Chapter 672: Spring Examinations

In the eighth year of Qianyou, there were three things that drew the most attention in the Eastern Capital that spring. The first was the citywide celebration of the Lantern Festival, whose fireworks display that night was still fondly discussed by the gentry and commoners of the Eastern Capital; the second was the great Huainan-East–Eastern Capital corruption case, a major affair that shook both court and country, with talk buzzing everywhere from the halls of power to the streets.

The third was the upcoming year's imperial examination. After several years of institutional building, the Great Han's system of selecting officials through the tribute examinations had returned to proper order, from the prefectural and circuit examinations in the localities to the ministry-level selection in the Eastern Capital, all had become systematized.

In this matter, civil officials both inside and outside the court devoted great effort to construction, with little delay or procrastination. After all, military officers had been rampant for many years, and promoting the examinations, education, and culture was an effective means of restraining the military class, at least at court.

The Great Han's examination schedule was not fixed; it was always determined by circumstances. When the Huainan campaign returned in the fifth year of Qianyou, a special examination was immediately held. In the sixth year of Qianyou, an autumn examination was held concurrently; it was suspended in the seventh year; and now in the spring of the eighth year, a regular examination was opened again.

Liu Chengyou's thinking was simple: to reserve talent for the court. The court's strategic direction next was to pacify the various southern states and unify the realm. When that time came, even if some officials from those states were retained, the talent gap would predictably widen—especially for governance talent—and cultivating talent required time.

Hence, the frequency of the Great Han's talent selection was so high. Of course, there were gains and losses, because the harvesting was too aggressive; in truth, in recent years, the quality of those selected had been declining. Compared to the first few years after the founding, the gap was even more obvious—in the early years, there were Wang Pu and Wang Qiwu, and later Wang Zhu and Li Fang, all of whom were now senior officials of the state.

Nevertheless, even so, the intensity of talent selection was not relaxed. In these early years of the Han, anyone with even a single skill could be cultivated and employed; there was no room for pickiness. And for those whose abilities and aptitudes were not outstanding, only in this special period of the founding, when the realm was not yet settled, would they have such an opportunity.

In a time of peace and prosperity, without extraordinary ability, outstanding talent, or deep connections, getting ahead would be immensely difficult. Of course, in recent years, most of those selected by the state were cultivated as middle- and lower-level officials, staff and subordinate clerks; their starting points would not be high—at least much lower than those of the early years. From Liu Chengyou's perspective, his expectations for them were not high either.

However, nothing was absolute; in every examination session, there might be overlooked gems, but those would need to fight their way up through the treacherous seas of officialdom. Raise a thousand gu worms, and some gu kings and gu generals would inevitably emerge...

This year's examination was scheduled for the thirteenth through fifteenth of the third month, three consecutive days—the first regular examination since the founding, the first spring examination. Several subjects that Liu Chengyou considered useful had been restored or added (of course, the focus was always on the Presented Scholar and Legal Classics examinations). In the past, special examinations had always been held in autumn.

From the first month onward, scholars had been streaming into the capital from all over the realm to prepare for the examination. By the deadline, a full 3,427 scholars had registered with the Ministry of Rites bearing their letters of release—the largest scale of any examination session to date.

As for the reason, it was simple: the court had opened several more subjects, and had announced early that the quota for this session was far larger than in previous years—several times over—which stirred the ambitions of many scholars. On top of that, there were also scholars from Huainan and Qinfeng.

Especially for regions like Qinfeng and Hanzhong that had only recently been taken and were not yet fully stabilized—whether for the sake of treating everyone equally or winning hearts and minds—Liu Chengyou directly issued an edict that for scholars registered in those areas, the local authorities along the way were to provide post-station lodging conveniences. And this was a policy that won great popular support; at least for the literati, it showed them tremendous respect, a sign of a dynasty on the rise.

And as scholars from all directions entered the Eastern Capital, the city of Kaifeng gained more literary refinement and more bustle. Although the newly expanded city of Kaifeng still had distinctions of inner and outer, noble and base, rich and poor, ever since the boundaries between wards and markets had been broken down, the entire city had grown increasingly prosperous. Though the administrative costs for the authorities had soared, the vitality of the whole city had clearly improved.

And the most direct benefit was the growth of commercial tax revenue—something visible and tangible.

The old markets were still preserved and had been expanded; when the city walls were rebuilt, transportation had been deliberately improved, and to this day they remained the choice for commercial trade and travel, especially for large-scale transactions.

Likewise, on the basis of the original markets and guilds, some new marketplaces had developed, the most famous of which was the Xiangguo Temple. The Buddhist sanctuary had long been tainted by the smoke and bustle of common life, connected to the mortal world, with no purity left to speak of. Though the court suppressed Buddhism, it ultimately could not control people's hearts; many commoners loved to gather at Xiangguo Temple, and even when doing business, they could be a little closer to "the bliss of my Buddha."

In view of the special circumstances at Xiangguo Temple, the Kaifeng administration had specially dispatched a team of market officials and market constables to maintain order and manage tax collection. The original hundred-plus monk cells had also been developed into lodgings and inns, and there was always some traveler spending the night.

Now in the third month, it was one of the busiest times of the year at Xiangguo Temple. Standing before the original mountain gate and looking out, one saw layer upon layer, row upon row of stalls, bustling crowds everywhere one looked, clamor filling one's ears—yet Liu Chengyou appeared quite enchanted.

At least the authorities had left the temple some dignity—they hadn't let people set up stalls inside the Buddha halls. To this day, within the precious monastery, monks still practiced Buddhism, visitors still came to admire, and believers still burned incense. The temple remained magnificent; it just lacked the ostentatious gaudiness that had once so displeased Liu Chengyou.

Speaking of it, nearly five years had passed since the large-scale campaign to suppress Buddhism. But one had to admit that the vitality of Buddhism was truly tenacious; under the new circumstances, the temples preserved in various regions still survived with difficulty, and had even adapted somewhat.

After all, though Liu Chengyou called it "suppressing Buddhism," what he suppressed was its influence, took was its property, and seized was its manpower—explaining it in terms of interests was thorough enough. To this day, a portion of what was obtained back then still remained in the emperor's private treasury. While reducing Buddhism's control over social resources, Liu Chengyou still tolerated its existence and development.

In recent years, the biggest move the authorities had made against Buddhism was, after the seizure of Huainan, when the two circuit's senior officials, upholding court policy, carried out renovation (plunder) of local temples—and the most thorough of them all was our Huainan-East Administration Commissioner Wang Pu.

At the time, he had clashed with Chen Sirang, the Chief Commander of Huainan-East, because Chen Sirang disapproved of Wang Pu's methods, as Chen Sirang was a devout Buddhist. It was something of a phenomenon: in this age, many military men who had spent their lives on horseback, killed like butchers, and never treated human life as anything important, devoutly believed in Buddhism—the more so as they aged. It was probably the lure of "lay down the butcher's knife and become a Buddha on the spot."

But how could Chen Sirang possibly contend with Wang Pu? In the end, feeling pressure from the Eastern Capital, he had to hold his nose and dispatch troops to cooperate with the Administration Commissioner's office. The rectification of Buddhist temples in the two Huai circuits added tens of thousands of people to the Great Han's population, and postwar recovery also benefited from temple property.

At the same time, because many military and political ministers like Chen Sirang harbored sympathy for Buddhism, "suppressing Buddhism" could only become a sustainable policy guideline.

"Young lord, this place is crowded with all sorts of people, a mix of fish and dragons—it's truly no place for you. You've seen what you came to see; it's best to return to the palace early!" Zhang Dejun attended closely at his side, a trace of anxiety on his handsome face as he urged Liu Chengyou.

He couldn't help but be nervous. Liu Chengyou had gone out incognito more than once before, but never had he ventured so deep into the streets and markets as today.

Hearing this, Liu Chengyou glanced around, then pointed at the guards around them—who were on such high alert that they had cleared a wide berth, staring at everyone with eyes that seemed to see every passerby as a criminal—and said, "If you all get any more tense, you'll really draw everyone's attention!"

Basically, every passerby cast curious looks at Liu Chengyou's party. It wasn't that they had never seen nobles strolling the markets, but almost never had they seen a group acting like this.

Of course, Liu Chengyou didn't blame the guards for spoiling his fun; it wasn't as if he had any ridiculous notions of going deep among the common folk and blending in with the people.

After a moment's thought, Liu Chengyou turned his head to look at Pure Consort Zhou following beside him, and asked gently, "Tired from all the walking?"

"The elder Lady Zhou" had been Liu Chengyou's acquisition for three years now. Though not yet twenty, under the emperor's cultivation she had grown ever more charming, like a flower bud blooming in spring—in countenance, temperament, and figure alike, she exuded an alluring charm.

However, among the consorts of the Han palace, the one Liu Chengyou neglected most was this elder Lady Zhou; Liu Chengyou visited Shuhua Hall very rarely. Though she could indulge in music and song, compose lyrics, and choreograph dances, these were but a passing diversion—the loneliness of the deep palace was always hard to resist.

Over time, she had transformed from a lively, lovesick young maiden into a melancholy young matron. On her beautiful face, an unshakeable sorrow and sadness lingered; when Liu Chengyou saw it, no matter how hard his heart, it would soften a few degrees.

This time, when he left the palace on a whim, perhaps out of pity, Liu Chengyou had specially summoned her to accompany him. Facing the emperor's sudden summons, the young lady was both flattered and surprised, and rarely showed her lovely countenance, strolling through the markets of the Eastern Capital together; the worry on her face had visibly diminished.

At this moment, leaning close to Liu Chengyou and hearing his question, her beautiful eyes looked with some reluctance at the splendid scene before Xiangguo Temple, clearly lingering with fondness, but soon a shadow of gloom surfaced. Meeting Liu Chengyou's inquiring gaze, the elder Lady Zhou let out a soft sigh, as if waking from a dream, and revealed a delicate, tender smile: "This concubine is tired from walking too—let us return to the palace!"