Chapter 8: Lady

In the water pavilion, the boys who had finished their papers stared fixedly at the white wall ahead, behind which lay a room filled with bookshelves.

In the center of the room stood a black wooden desk, where Mr. Shen and Manager Wu stood, heads bowed as they flipped through the students' answer sheets.

After a long while, the two exchanged a glance and both shook their heads with sighs.

"Most couldn't even recall one-tenth. The better ones managed maybe two or three-tenths."

Manager Wu chuckled bitterly.

Mr. Shen sifted through the pile of papers, pulling out four answer sheets.

"These few who remembered something got about four-tenths—decent prospects."

Manager Wu picked up the sheets, glanced at them, nodded, then sighed: "You're right, Master. These are the three child scholars' papers, and the fourth belongs to someone who's studied for six or seven years."

"It's normal," Mr. Shen said without surprise. "Apart from true geniuses, the more you study, the better you get at studying. Just spending years in elementary school teaches you at least a little how to memorize."

"As for geniuses born with innate knowledge—how often do you actually run into one?"

As he spoke, he idly riffled through the pile of papers.

After a while, he pinched one sheet between his fingers and furrowed his brow slightly.

"Huh? Is there a hidden gem here?" Manager Wu, curious at his expression, leaned in to look—and immediately recognized the paper.

"This isn't… isn't Zheng Fa's, is it?"

Manager Wu's impression of Zheng Fa was unforgettable.

He'd even specifically examined Zheng Fa's answer sheet—and after reading it, his only thought was: What the hell?

Not a single character was correct.

Recalling how confidently he'd claimed Zheng Fa had some substance inside him, even Manager Wu, who'd seen plenty, felt a twinge of embarrassment.

Mr. Shen ignored him, silently studying the paper for a long while before suddenly looking up and bowing to him: "Brother Wu, I've finally seen the depth of your insight!"

"..." Manager Wu looked again at Zheng Fa's paper, left and right, finding it painful to stare at. He scowled: "Mr. Shen, I know you're testing these servants and think it's overkill—you're annoyed. But mocking me like this? That's not fair. We're both just carrying out orders."

Seeing his misunderstanding, Mr. Shen waved his hand, his expression earnest: "I truly admire your eye!"

Manager Wu didn't believe a word—he thought scholars had a gift for subtle mockery, delivering insults with perfect seriousness. Who could endure that?

"Fine! I admit it—I misjudged him! I shouldn't have thought well of that Zheng kid. My eyes are blind today, alright?"

"Brother Wu, you don't understand—Zheng Fa's answer sheet has extraordinary qualities!"

"What extraordinary qualities? It looks like he wrote a lot, but not a single character is right..."

Looking at Zheng Fa's utterly disastrous paper, Manager Wu was certain Mr. Shen was calling him blind.

"He got half a character right!" Mr. Shen clapped his hands in admiration.

"... Huh?"

Mr. Shen placed Zheng Fa's paper aside and pulled out the original text of the *Classic of Purity and Tranquility*, comparing them side by side.

"Did you notice?"

"Notice what?"

"Zheng Fa's version of the *Classic of Purity and Tranquility* looks, at first glance, like not a single character is correct—but look closely!" Mr. Shen pointed at Zheng Fa's paper and the original, comparing character by character.

"... He really got half a character right?"

After staring for a long time, Manager Wu finally saw it.

Zheng Fa's answer sheet was peculiar—almost every character, he'd written only part of correctly.

Without close inspection, it was nearly impossible to tell what he'd intended to write.

"What do you see?" Mr. Shen's voice held a hint of excitement.

"I see... a desperate, struggling illiterate?"

"... That proves this child truly has talent!" Mr. Shen pointed at Zheng Fa's paper. "Though every character is wrong, when compared to the original, he got nearly nine-tenths of it right."

"Photographic memory?" Manager Wu began to grasp Mr. Shen's meaning.

"Yes. An illiterate, in such a short time, memorizing these characters—only photographic memory explains it."

"So you weren't mocking me after all..."

"Of course not! Photographic memory is unusual, but I've heard of such people before. Yet something else strikes me as even more remarkable about this boy."

"What?" Manager Wu's interest stirred.

"Look—he writes each character as if missing strokes, but think again: there's a pattern to his writing. I even feel—each character has his own form, and yet, each preserves the essential core of the original character."

Manager Wu found this hard to believe.

To invent his own script?

That wasn't genius—that was a monster.

"Could it be he simply didn't memorize the correct forms?"

"..." Internally, Mr. Shen admitted Manager Wu's theory made more sense—his own idea sounded absurd.

He shook his head: "Regardless, if we judge by talent, Zheng Fa is the best among them."

Manager Wu grinned: "I told you—my eyes don't lie! This kid's a talent!"

"But from this paper, it's clear his family is poor—he's never been to school, and he's older now. His talent may not mature quickly. Lady might not take him," Mr. Shen said with regret.

At that moment, Manager Wu placed Zheng Fa's answer sheet among the other four selected papers and held them in his hand.

"You don't understand our Lady," he said, smiling as he walked out. "To Lady..."

"Family background," he pointed through the wall at the boys still waiting eagerly: "Whether poor or rich, they're all servants' children."

"Knowledge," he gestured to himself, then to Mr. Shen: "isn't much better—useful, keep them; useless, replace them."

"I bet the one chosen will be this Zheng kid. Our Lady values talent."

Holding the papers, he walked deep into the mansion, past the lotus pond, through the rear garden.

Until he reached a two-story pavilion.

Upstairs, the sound of strings and pipes echoed in waves.

He ascended the agarwood stairs to the second floor, where layers of curtains hung; through veil after veil of gauze, a graceful, slender figure could be seen reclining on a wide, low couch.

The woman propped her head with one hand, listening to three young maidens playing in the corner, while lazily toying with a golden hairpin in her other hand.

Steward Wu dared not raise his eyes, nor did he make a sound.

He simply stood silently before the curtains.

After a long while, the song ended.

The woman raised her hand and gently tapped a jade ring hanging from the curtain with the tip of the golden hairpin.

Clang~

The clear, resonant sound pierced through the layers of curtains.

Steward Wu knew he could now speak.

"Lady, today we selected book attendants for the Young Master Seventh; there are a few answer sheets worth viewing, which this humble servant has brought."

Clang~

A young maiden walked out slowly, took the answer sheets from Steward Wu's hands, then turned and returned to the couch.

She handed the several answer sheets to the person on the couch.