Xiao Jingduo’s name was called soon after. He stepped forward in response. After the Ministry of Rites officials confirmed his identity and name tag, they directed him to the side for a body search. Other officials carefully searched Xiao Jingduo’s clothing and sleeves. Only after confirming there were no notes, knives, or other prohibited items did they nod and allow him to enter.
The examination hall was extremely spacious, with long corridors on both the east and west sides. The examinees sat under these corridors to answer their papers. The examination lasted two days, with two subjects tested each day. Candidates were only allowed to leave in the evening after finishing the day’s exams. They were not permitted to exit at noon. Interestingly, the Ministry of Rites did not provide meals, meaning the candidates had to prepare their own dry rations. If they wished, they could even bring cooking utensils, candles, and other items for food preparation, which the Ministry did not interfere with.
Since the imperial examination system had only been implemented for a few years, the exam subjects and procedures were not fixed annually. Last year, the court had debated for nearly half a month before finally deciding on this year’s examination format. In addition to poetry composition, classics interpretation, and policy essays from previous years, they added miscellaneous writing this year.
This was the first time miscellaneous writing appeared in the exam. No one knew exactly how it would be tested, only that they had to write a miscellaneous essay, with fluent writing and superior form and meaning being favored. The court’s last-minute change caused great distress among Xiao Jingduo’s cohort of examinees. Suddenly adding a new subject left no time for preparation, and worst of all, there were no examples from previous years to reference. How were they supposed to approach this?
But regardless of how much the students complained privately, the imperial examination of the ninth year of Qiyuan arrived as scheduled. The Deputy Minister of Rites who presided over the examination gave the usual words of encouragement before instructing the ministry officials to distribute the test papers to the candidates.
The imperial examination lasted two days. On the first day, candidates were tested on poetry composition and classics interpretation. The second day covered miscellaneous writing and policy essays. After completing the first subject each day, there was a break for the candidates to rest, eat, or cook. They could leave after finishing the second subject. Once dismissed, students were free to rest as they pleased; the Ministry of Rites did not interfere with their whereabouts, as long as they arrived on time the next day and passed the identity verification and body search.
The first set of test papers had been distributed to the students. Xiao Jingduo, upon receiving his, first skimmed through it from beginning to end. The paper required composing two poems and one rhapsody, with conventional themes focusing on scenery description and expressing personal ambitions.
This wasn’t difficult. At that time, poetry writing was extremely popular; even young children on the street could recite famous poems. While Xiao Jingduo wouldn’t claim to compose verses spontaneously, writing a few metrically correct poems and rhapsodies was well within his capabilities.
Xiao Jingduo drafted his answers quickly, transferring them to the test paper with minimal revisions. As a result, he finished writing remarkably fast, causing those around him to look shocked when he put down his brush.
“So quickly?”
Xiao Jingduo paid no attention to the pressure he was creating for those around him. Since many hadn’t finished, he couldn’t leave yet. He could only sit up straight and silently contemplate tomorrow’s miscellaneous writing in his mind.
Poetry and rhapsody composition was one of the screening criteria for the imperial examination. Those with poor writing skills would be eliminated at this stage. If one’s poetry and rhapsody didn’t meet the standards, the subsequent test papers wouldn’t even be reviewed by the examiners. This first hurdle demanded extremely high literary talent. However, for students like Xiao Jingduo who aspired to become officials, poetry and rhapsody were just the basics. Classics interpretation was hardly worth mentioning. The real test of one’s abilities lay in the policy essays and the unpredictable miscellaneous writing.
There were five policy questions, placed in the last section, serving as the final and most crucial screening for official selection. The “ce” (policy) questions required candidates to answer specific issues by citing classics or considering current affairs. The “lun” (discussion) questions involved evaluating historical events or figures. The five policy questions covered various aspects including military and political affairs, military strategy, agriculture, medicine, water conservancy, and more. Until the last moment, it was impossible to guess what the court would examine. Therefore, answering policy questions relied on one’s accumulated knowledge. This section also best demonstrated one’s writing prowess and political acumen, which were key factors for becoming an official.
As Xiao Jingduo pondered, more and more examinees gradually put down their brushes. When the incense at the front desk burned out, the Deputy Minister of Rites announced the end of writing. Officials then moved from the front, collecting answer sheets in order.
With the first session complete, candidates could finally breathe a sigh of relief and take out their dry rations for a break. It was then that Xiao Jingduo noticed some examinees had actually set up pots to cook rice with oil.
He shook his head in amusement but paid no further attention.
The afternoon session tested classics interpretation. This involved presenting half of a sentence from the major classics for students to complete from memory, or giving a full passage for candidates to explain its meaning. This wasn’t particularly challenging. Xiao Jingduo had grown up memorizing medical texts and later spent day and night with Buddhist scriptures at Qingyuan Temple. If he could recite such abstruse and profound works as medical texts and Buddhist scriptures in full, the major classics were no challenge at all. Xiao Jingduo wrote at a steady pace and soon put down his brush again.
Since today’s exams were over, Xiao Jingduo could leave early this time. After personally witnessing the examiner collect his papers, he left with ease and composure.
The examinee sitting next to Xiao Jingduo felt very conflicted. Was this young man for real? He looked quite young; could he be putting on an act, deliberately trying to show off?
Xiao Lin, waiting outside the examination hall, was also startled when he saw Xiao Jingduo: “Young master, what’s this…?”
“I finished writing, so I came out early.”
Xiao Lin finally breathed a sigh of relief: “That’s good, I thought…”
Xiao Lin swallowed the words he hadn’t yet spoken. He had initially thought Xiao Jingduo had encountered some problem and had to leave early. Although Xiao Jingduo’s words dispelled this worrying guess, Xiao Lin’s heart didn’t feel much lighter.
Isn’t the young master leaving too early? All the other candidates are still inside…
But Xiao Lin was of a taciturn nature. In the end, he decided to trust their young master and didn’t voice these concerns.
Here’s the translation of the passage:
When Xiao Jingduo returned, his fellow examinee Dong Peng and Wu Tai from the same lodging naturally hadn’t come back yet. He greeted the landlord with a smile before retreating to his room to review.
With the classics and poetry composition exams finished, there was no need to revisit these subjects for now. However, tomorrow’s miscellaneous writing and policy essays couldn’t be taken lightly. Thanks to his connections with the Marquis Dingyong’s household, Xiao Jingduo had some understanding of recent court dynamics. He took out the official gazettes he had specifically compiled and began leafing through them one by one.
While the content of the miscellaneous writing was unclear, the policy essays would certainly draw from current affairs. Although he didn’t expect to guess the exact exam questions, reviewing once more couldn’t hurt.
Before long, darkness fell, and Xiao Jingduo had to light a candle to read by lamplight. After an indeterminate amount of time, he faintly heard commotion outside. Xiao Jingduo knew this meant Dong Peng and the others had returned. The Ministry of Rites’ regulations for the examination were quite lenient, not pressuring candidates on time. Examinees could continue writing even after sunset, but they had to submit their papers after two wooden candles had burned out. Judging by Dong Peng and his companions’ arrival, they had likely stayed until the very end.
The noise from Dong Peng and Wu Tai barely registered in Xiao Jingduo’s mind before fading away. He didn’t pay much attention to these two.
However, while he didn’t mind others, others took notice of him. After a bout of clattering sounds from the side rooms, there was a knock on Xiao Jingduo’s door.
“Brother Xiao, are you in there?”
Xiao Jingduo had to put down his book and respond, “I’m here.”
Dong Peng pushed open the door to find a spacious and tidy room with simple furnishings. By the window was a low desk piled with writing brushes, ink, and books. An inkstone sat in the right corner of the dark wooden desk, while several neatly stacked scrolls occupied the left side. The scroll rollers were smooth and polished, emitting a soft brown glow. In the center of the desk lay an open book. Its cover was a long strip of reddish-brown stiff silk, extremely long and attached to two sandalwood rollers on either end. White paper was pasted onto this silk backing, allowing the reader to adjust their progress by turning the wooden rollers on each side. Dong Peng glanced at the left roller of the scroll, which had a thick layer wound around it, while the right roller remained thin, clearly indicating that Xiao Jingduo was nearly finished with this book.
Dong Peng felt conflicted and couldn’t help but exclaim, “Brother Xiao, how long have you been back?”
“I didn’t really pay attention, perhaps about two hours.”
“Are you so confident about today’s exam that you dared to leave so early?”
“I wouldn’t dare say that. I’m just somewhat proficient in classics interpretation.”
Dong Peng smiled strangely, “Brother Xiao seems so calm and collected. I wonder what your plans are for tomorrow?”
Xiao Jingduo found this question odd, “Tomorrow I’ll simply take the exam according to the rules. Why do you ask, Brother Dong?”
“It’s nothing.” Dong Peng shook his head, giving Xiao Jingduo an ambiguous look. “Since Brother Xiao wants to review the miscellaneous writing and policy essays, I won’t disturb you further. I’ll take my leave. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
These words sounded inexplicably strange. Xiao Jingduo silently watched Dong Peng leave. Once alone in the room, he frowned in puzzlement.
He felt that Dong Peng was hinting at something. What did he really mean?
The second day of the imperial examination proceeded as usual.
After the customary body search, the candidates were allowed to enter the examination hall. Xiao Jingduo sat at his designated seat and received the much-speculated miscellaneous writing test paper.
At first glance, Xiao Jingduo was momentarily stunned.
He wasn’t alone; other examinees under the east and west corridors erupted in a chorus of complaints: “What is this? How can they test us on this?”
The examinees’ strong reaction was understandable. While the topic on the test paper wasn’t obscure – in fact, it was quite famous – it seemed deliberately challenging.
Because the topic turned out to be “Tian Wen” (Heavenly Questions).
“Tian Wen” was an ancient and extraordinary piece of literature. Since its creation a thousand years ago, no one had been able to fully interpret it. Now, this enigmatic text appeared on their exam papers.
“Where do the sun and moon belong? Where are the stars arranged? They rise from the Valley of Heat and set in the Vale of Darkness. From brightness to obscurity, how many li do they travel? What virtue does the night light possess? Why does it die and then live again? What is missing and what is preserved? And why is there a hare in its belly?”
How was he supposed to know where the sun and moon rise, where the stars fall? From the Valley of Heat to the Vale of Darkness, from light to dark, how many li does it travel? What virtues does the moon possess? Waxing and waning, dying and being reborn in an endless cycle, how can it achieve immortality? What are the dark spots on the moon, and is there really a rabbit hiding in its belly?
Xiao Jingduo felt utterly helpless. How was he supposed to know all this?
Traditionally, imperial examination content was drawn from the Five Classics. From the Imperial Academy to private schools, all education was centered around these examination materials. Everything learned and practiced was designed for the imperial exams. But “Tian Wen,” recorded in the “Chu Ci” (Songs of Chu), was completely outside the scope of the examination syllabus!
Immediately, some students protested: “Examiner, this topic is not within the examination syllabus. I demand a change of topic!”
Voices of agreement quickly rose in the examination hall: “That’s right! How can they test us on material outside the Five Classics? Isn’t this deliberately making things difficult for us?”
“Indeed, what’s going on here?”
If you enjoy my translations, feel free to consider supporting me on ko-fi! Thank you!
Updates on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays
