Chapter 6: A Grand Welcome Gift

When Lu Beigu stepped out wearing dry clothes, students preparing for the Cold Food Festival holiday were leaving the county school in small groups.

Some were cheerful, some dejected, some feigning calmness, and many more regarded Lu Beigu with complex glances.

Against the flow of the crowd, Lu Beigu did not move forward but stepped aside to let them pass, standing quietly beneath the corridor.

“Congratulations, Brother Lu! Your policy essay received a Class A-Middle!”

“Truly, a master hides his light!”

The speakers were the two scholars who had helped him earlier; their faces bore traces of awkwardness and awe.

“Brother Lu, Brother Zhang.”

Lu Beigu bowed deeply: “Thank you both for coming to my aid!”

“It is the duty of scholars to help one another,” said the scholar named Lu Guangyu. “But Brother Lu, you concealed yourself well—we all misjudged you.”

Lu Beigu offered no further explanation.

On one hand, the original host had indeed been mediocre in talent; as a modern top-tier humanities scholar, he could not be compared to that man.

On the other hand, if his classmates believed he had been hiding his abilities, that suited him perfectly.

At that moment, a minor clerk from the school approached.

“The Prefect has ordered me to take you to him.”

Lu Beigu understood at once—it was exactly as he had expected. The examination hall was crowded and full of tongues; some things could not be spoken of openly.

His essay, “On Defending Against Xia,” was, in the context of contemporary Song, no less than a strategic analysis far ahead of its time—enough to draw the attention of this County Magistrate, who had once served on the northwestern frontier.

After briefly bidding farewell to the two, Lu Beigu passed through the winding corridors of the school and was led to a quiet side room, where the clerk closed the door behind him.

The room was small but elegantly arranged; on a low table by the window stood a tea set.

Li Pan sat cross-legged on a mat, holding a copy of Lu Beigu’s policy essay.

In Song society, as the urban class rose, chairs became widely popular, leading to the disappearance of the kneeling-sitting tradition—even among scholar-officials, few chose the “Wei-Jin elegance” of kneeling; most now sat comfortably cross-legged.

“Your Excellency.”

“Sit,” Li Pan said without looking up.

Lu Beigu bowed respectfully, then sat cross-legged. He noticed Li Pan had changed out of his official robes into a dark indigo civilian garment, making him look more like a weathered farmer.

“Your policy essay,” Li Pan finally set down the paper and fixed Lu Beigu with a sharp gaze, “was not written by an ordinary man.”

The air in the room seemed to freeze for an instant.

“I merely enjoy reading military texts in my spare time and happened upon some insights,” Lu Beigu replied calmly.

His implication was clear: he had half-guessed the topic and been fortunate; this also explained why his previous policy essays had performed poorly.

Of course, whether this excuse held water was not truly important.

Li Pan nodded, offering no judgment on the explanation.

For Li Pan, whether Lu Beigu had previously concealed his talent or was now deliberately catering to his tastes made no difference.

What mattered was whether Lu Beigu could elaborate on the unspoken implications of this “On Defending Against Xia” essay—and if those implications were practically actionable, it would aid Li Pan’s own career.

For Li Pan knew well: in Sichuan today, a powerful figure took great interest in such matters.

Slowly, he lifted the teapot and poured boiling water into a teacup, repeatedly whisking the tea, then stirred it casually with a bamboo whisk—his technique was crude.

When he finished, he handed Lu Beigu a sheet of paper lying on the low table.

“When one encounters a piece that resonates, one and another are naturally in tune. This is my gift to you as a token of our meeting.”

Lu Beigu took it, glanced once—and froze in place.

Lu Beigu had anticipated the Prefect might commend him for the essay.

He never imagined the paper was a household registration transfer certificate!

To someone unfamiliar with the system, it might seem merely a matter of changing one’s registered residence—what difference could there be between a town and a county?

But the reality was far deeper: in the Song, household registration was tightly bound to the imperial examination system and tied to a matter of vital importance to candidates:

The “quota for recommendation” required to advance from the prefectural exam to the Ministry of Rites’ provincial examination!

This was an extraordinarily precious gift!

It was the greatest favor Li Pan could offer within his authority, clearly demonstrating his high regard for Lu Beigu.

For Lu Beigu, though his knowledge and talent would allow him to thrive even without the examination path, a stable channel for social advancement was still a blessing—he had no reason to make things harder for himself.

So Lu Beigu rose and bowed.

“Your Excellency’s kindness overwhelms me—I am deeply grateful!”

Seeing that Lu Beigu understood the weight of the paper, Li Pan nodded.

He sipped his tea, his rough fingers tracing the rim of the cup.

“The county examination draws near. Besides policy essays, you must also devote effort to poetry, composition, and classical texts—do you understand?”

“I understand.”

Lu Beigu gave a solemn reply, though internally he calculated: the original host’s deficiencies were severe—his composition and classical text scores were abysmal, and his poetry barely passed.

To close these gaps in a short time was nearly impossible for an ordinary person.

Fortunately, he was not ordinary.

After addressing matters concerning Lu Beigu’s future, Li Pan fell silent for a moment, then asked:

“You have never been to the northwest. How did you know of the conflict between the Hengshan chieftains and the Lord of Xia? And how did you conceive of using the ‘Five Allurements’ strategy to divide them?”

Lu Beigu’s heart tightened. This question was dangerous—he could not say he had read it in a historical thesis.

But no matter how he answered, he would not be suspected as a Xia spy.

The geographical distance alone made it absurd: no radio existed then; the Xia would have to be mad to cross the Guanzhong and Hanzhong regions to recruit a county school student in southern Sichuan as an agent.

Not only did Sichuan hold no valuable intelligence the Xia needed, but even if it did, could a mere county student access it? And even if he could, did he understand what it meant to be separated by thousands of li, most of them mountainous paths?

By the time the intelligence reached them, the dish would be cold.

“I once met a merchant from the northwest who described frontier conditions to me.”

Li Pan stared at Lu Beigu for a long time, then smiled: “Do you know why I was transferred from Qin Fenglu to this post?”

Lu Beigu shook his head.

“Because I submitted memorials with views that align with yours. Today, seeing your essay, I feel as if I’ve met a kindred spirit.”

Lu Beigu suddenly understood—no wonder Li Pan had taken such interest in his essay.

“Your ‘Establishing Foundations on the Frontier’ strategy—reducing the garrison troops in fortresses while increasing local archers, then consolidating elite forces into mobile cavalry—indeed avoids increasing fiscal burdens. But your text hints at more. I wish to hear your true thoughts.”

Lu Beigu’s heart leapt.

Emperor Taizu of Song, Zhao Kuangyin, seized power through the Chenqiao Mutiny by exploiting a child emperor and widow, and deeply feared the Tang-Five Dynasties’ ethos that “the throne belongs to the one with the strongest army.” Thus he established Song’s distorted military system.

This issue was of the highest sensitivity.

——————

① Following the Tang system, candidates for the imperial examination took the prefectural exam, but not all who passed could proceed to the capital; quotas for advancement (“jie’e”) were allocated based on each prefecture’s population and other factors.

② After the Qingli Peace Accord, Xia renounced its imperial title but retained its state name; Song granted its ruler the title “Lord of Xia,” bestowed a gilded silver seal two inches and one fen square inscribed “Seal of the Lord of Xia,” permitted him to appoint his own officials, and formally recognized him as a vassal who acknowledged Song’s calendar.

(End of Chapter)