Chapter 55: The Intensely Competitive Prefectural School

Then the old man brought two more plates of tea snacks: one of sesame-coated bean cakes, the other of plum preserves cut into plum-blossom shapes.

“Try these—the bean cakes pair best with tea, the plum preserves with perilla drink.”

After serving them, the old man didn’t worry they’d skip out on payment; he simply said, “If you want more, just call out. Pay when you’re done and leaving.”

Then the old man leaned against the wall and dozed off in his chair.

Their tea was still too hot to drink, but Ji Yun eagerly lifted the cool earthen bowl; condensation beaded on its walls, dampening his fingers, and as he sipped, his bangs nearly brushed into the perilla drink.

“Delicious!”

The boy licked plum juice from his lips, eyes gleaming, and reached for a bean cake.

His fingertips just touched it when he suddenly remembered something and pulled back, pulling a plain silk handkerchief from his sleeve to lay beneath it before picking up a piece and offering it to Lu Beigu: “Here, try this.”

Quite polite and hygienic.

Then Ji Yun grabbed another bean cake, bit off half, and sesame seeds scattered into the cracks of the elmwood table.

Lu Beigu watched the two across from him sitting idle, neither eating nor drinking, and felt no discomfort; instead, he leisurely sipped his tea and ate a bean cake, finding the combination truly pleasant.

“By the way, has the prefectural school already dismissed for the holiday?” he asked Ji Yun.

“Of course,” Ji Yun mumbled. “Well, not entirely—only the lower and middle wards are off; the upper ward still has lessons if they’re preparing for the prefectural exam.”

“Lower ward? Middle ward? Upper ward?”

County schools didn’t divide classes—over two hundred students studied together. Lu Beigu didn’t know whether prefectural schools did.

And these terms felt familiar—was this the “Three-Ward System” from the Xining Reforms?

But then Lu Beigu thought again—it didn’t fit. Wang Anshi’s system was in the Imperial Academy, called “Outer Ward, Inner Ward, Upper Ward!”

“Lu Brother may not know,” Han Ziyu spoke up. “The Luzhou Prefectural School has hundreds of students, divided into wards.”

Indeed, the prefectural school had classes.

Though the names differed, the principle was much like the “Three-Ward System”—an early prototype of it.

Or put another way, Wang Anshi couldn’t have invented such a system from nothing; all institutions evolve from prior forms.

In fact, many prefectural schools in Sichuan, and across the Song realm, were forced to divide classes to balance limited imperial examination slots against a large, uneven pool of prefectural students.

Assign the best teachers to teach the best students.

The goal wasn’t merely passing the prefectural exam—the number of candidates granted provincial quotas was fixed; which students got them didn’t matter to the school itself.

The real goal was to ensure those granted quotas passed the Ministry of Rites’ provincial examination.

Why?

—Because the more candidates from this prefecture passed the Ministry’s exam, the better the prefectural school’s—and the prefect’s—official evaluation.

This directly affected officials’ promotions, so sparing no effort to select the best among students was only natural.

Lu Beigu then asked Ji Yun: “Are you in the lower or middle ward?”

“I’m definitely in the lower ward!”

Ji Yun pointed at himself: “How old am I?”

Lu Beigu couldn’t help smiling—Ji Yun did look young, but in another two years he’d likely shoot up in height and lose that childish face.

“Han Brother is far more accomplished—he’s currently in the middle ward.”

Ji Yun pointed at Han Ziyu as he said this, and Han Sanniang, hearing this, seemed quite pleased.

“What about Zhou Mingyuan?” Lu Beigu asked.

Han Ziyu smiled: “He’s in the upper ward—but whether he stays there next time is uncertain.”

“What do you mean?”

Lu Beigu was curious—he’d only heard about class divisions, but now there were demotions too?

Ji Yun interjected: “You have to take exams. The prefectural school posts a grand ranking—all students take the same test, same grading standards. The top third enter the upper ward, the middle third the middle ward, the bottom third the lower ward. Otherwise, how do you think the three wards came about?”

Lu Beigu now understood—it was like dividing into regular, advanced, and experimental classes by rank.

New students surely started in the lower ward; after all, plenty stayed in prefectural school for decades without passing the imperial exam—no talent, just endure.

Conversely, if you improved rapidly and shone brightly despite limited resources, you’d be promoted to deeper study and targeted training.

Thus, the prefectural school’s system was far more intense than the county school’s—emphasizing survival of the fittest.

“So Zhou Mingyuan is at the bottom of the upper ward?”

“Exactly,” Ji Yun sneered. “Three years ago he passed the provincial exam by sheer luck—he doesn’t have the ability.”

Lu Beigu asked a question he cared about: “I’ve heard people in Gulin say Zhou Brother couldn’t go to the capital for the Ministry’s exam because of his native place.”

“You believe that?”

Ji Yun rolled his eyes. “Provincial quotas can’t be perfectly fair, but they’re not as unfair as you think—overall, rankings still come from top to bottom. If seven passed and the court granted five quotas, the bottom two get cut; if three passed and two quotas were given, one gets cut. Native place matters, sure, but even by pure ranking, Zhou Mingyuan wouldn’t have made it—he’s just flattering himself.”

Lu Beigu nodded and said no more.

Ji Yun clearly disliked Zhou Mingyuan, but Zhou had helped him, so Lu Beigu wouldn’t gossip behind his back—he’d asked what he needed to know.

“Of course, quotas are ultimately decided by people.”

Ji Yun thought a moment and admitted: “The Prefect, Assistant Prefect, and Judge all have authority. The prefectural exam happens every three years; this list affects not just the candidates’ futures but also their own. If a prefecture produces a top-ranked candidate, their evaluation improves directly. So generally, they pick the best of the best—but if everyone’s roughly equal, who gets the quota depends on who they favor, not just rank. That’s just how it is.”

“I understand.”

Listening to their conversation, Han Ziyu now asked:

“Is the Hejiang County School about to hold its county exam? Do you have confidence Lu Young Master will enter the prefectural school?”

“I have confidence,” Lu Beigu replied seriously. “With a little over a month until the county exam, if I solidify my poetry and prose and study the essay formats diligently, I should pass.”

Ji Yun nodded: “Naturally. When you pass the county exam, we’ll be classmates.”

In his view, with Lu Beigu’s talent, he’d surely enter the prefectural school—he couldn’t remain in county school forever.

“But Lu Brother, prepare yourself—passing the county exam means nothing; prefectural school isn’t like county school at all!”

(End of chapter)