Chapter 341: Drawing Lots by Night: The Return of Yang

Shh-shh-shh…

Inside the main hall of the Examination Compound, the clear, crisp clatter of bamboo slips knocking together as the slip-cylinder was shaken rang out unceasingly.

After two centuries of the civil examinations, the Great Ming's rules and measures to prevent fraud had long since reached their zenith, pushed nearly to the absolute limit of what this age allowed.

The county and prefectural school exams may have gradually decayed, with many government students hiring substitutes or commissioning proxy test-takers.

But by the time one reached the provincial examination level, a very high degree of fairness could still be guaranteed.

Objectively speaking, those government students who cheated at the lower levels did not have all that great an impact on the overall fairness of the examination system.

When they spent silver to cheat, it was either to secure an official-status identity or to obtain some privilege of exemption from corvée and grain levies; they basically had no intention of advancing further — after all, for someone utterly devoid of learning to cheat his way all the way to juren, the difficulty was simply far too high.

Everyone moved in the same circles and had to take part in poetry and prose occasions day in and day out, exchanging pointers on examination essays.

If a piece of trash wormed his way in, it was simply a bald man wearing an official's cap — sooner or later, he'd be exposed.

This was not even entirely born of considerations of justice or morality, but rather that the juren stratum, by its very nature, safeguarded the perpetuation of its own privileges. And the metropolitan examination, as the second-to-last barrier in the Great Ming civil examinations, was strict to a hair-raising degree.

In the center of the great hall, Chief Examiner Li Banghua held up the slip-cylinder and displayed it to all the assembled examiners.

"One, two, three… twenty-four examination slips in total. You have all witnessed this together — is it clear and beyond doubt?"

The other examiners in the hall wore solemn expressions and responded in unison: "Witnessed by all together, clear and beyond doubt."

Li Banghua nodded, stepped forward, and handed the slip-cylinder to Bi Ziyan.

"Then let House Leader Bi draw the lots personally."

The so-called House Leader was the most senior among the associate examiners of the various houses.

And Bi Ziyan, Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, was a jinshi of the twentieth year of Wanli — he naturally took the role without demur.

He took the slip-cylinder, shook it several times, and let four examination slips fall onto the desk in succession.

"'The Well: The town may be changed, but the well cannot be changed. There is no loss and no gain. Men come and go and draw from the well — Water over Wind, Jing (䷯).'"

"'Inner Truth: Pigs and fishes. Good fortune. It furthers one to cross the great water. Perseverance furthers — Wind over Lake, Zhongfu (䷼).'"

"'Great Taming: Perseverance furthers. One does not eat at home. Good fortune. It furthers one to cross the great water — Mountain over Heaven, Dachu (䷙).'"

"'Revolution: To set out brings misfortune. Perseverance brings danger. When the talk of revolution has gone thrice round, one may commit himself, and men will believe him — Lake over Fire, Ge (䷰).'"

What the assembled men were now carrying out was the process of drawing lots for the examination questions on the Book of Changes.

The examiners first had to divide the Book of Changes into multiple sections and conduct a first round of drawing lots to decide from which four sections the exam questions would be set. The ones finally drawn were the Jing hexagram, the Zhongfu hexagram, the Dachu hexagram, and the Ge hexagram.

Then the six associate examiners assigned to the Changes house would each draft one question based on these four sections and submit it.

In the end, a total of twenty-four examination slips were assembled, and only then did it fall to the House Leader Examiner to decide the final questions.

Round after round of sealed question-setting, random drawing, and cross-confirmation made large-scale cheating in the metropolitan examination virtually impossible.

Even if cheating did occur, it would amount to some examiner telling a candidate in advance about his own question-setting inclinations.

But whether that examiner's questions could pass through layer after layer of filtering and become the final questions — the probability was truly not great.

And even if the cheating succeeded, it would still be reported.

The countless scholars who failed the exam would not let any suspicious point slip by.

Even if your examination essay this time differed in style from your previous writing, you would still be reported!

Who knew whether you had hired a famous master to draft it in advance, memorized the examination essay, and then just happened to hit the question spot-on?

These four questions were all unremarkable and violated no taboos.

The examiners pondered briefly, ultimately confirmed that there were no doubts, and nodded their approval one after another.

Next, the men followed the same procedure, selecting questions from the Odes, the Documents, the Spring and Autumn Annals, the Book of Rites, and so on one by one, until finally it was the turn of the most important of all: the Four Books.

In the first session of the metropolitan examination, there were three questions from the Four Books and four from the Five Classics.

For the Five Classics, each candidate only had to answer the four questions from the classic he specialized in — somewhat akin to the subject divisions of physics, chemistry, history, geography, and biology. But the Four Books were something every candidate had to answer — akin to language and English.

Therefore, the precautions in drafting the Four Books questions were even more stringent: everyone had to assemble in one hall, set the questions on the spot, draw lots on the spot, and confirm on the spot. As before, the first step was to divide the texts into sections.

The Analects was divided into ten lots, the Great Learning into two lots, and the Mencius into three lots, with the question-setting range drawn from each.

As for the Doctrine of the Mean, because its principles were abstruse and it pertained mostly to individual philosophical reflection, bearing little connection to the governance of the state,

after the Wanli reign, the examination halls gradually ceased setting questions from this text.

After the ranges were drawn, the twenty associate examiners took up their brushes on the spot and each set one question for the Analects, the Great Learning, and the Mencius — a full sixty questions gathered together, from which the Chief Examiner conducted a new round of drawing lots, sifting out nine questions.

Only at this step were they once again handed to Bi Ziyan, who drew lots to determine the final three major questions.

The complicated operation at last came to an end.

Bi Ziyan looked at the slip in his hand and slowly read out the results:

"Analects: 'In the time of Tang and Yu, how abundant was talent.'"

"Great Learning: 'The Canon of the Emperor says: He was able to make illustrious his lofty virtue.'"

"Mencius: 'When those on the left and right all say a man is worthy, do not yet believe it; when all the great officers say he is worthy, do not yet believe it; when the people of the state all say he is worthy, then investigate him; if you see that he is worthy, then employ him.'"

Chief Examiner Li Banghua, having heard this, nodded slightly and was about to speak to confirm it. But from among the crowd, Jiang Dejing suddenly raised his hand.

"Gentlemen, the Great Learning question seems to have an impropriety."

His brow tightly furrowed, he spoke:

"His Majesty has newly ascended the throne, and the Great Ming is encountering a transformation unseen in a thousand years, with new policies surging vigorously into motion."

"For the Great Learning question to use the characters 'ke ming' seems…!"

The moment these words were spoken, the atmosphere in the hall abruptly froze.

The men savored the implication for a moment and instantly broke out in cold sweat, nodding in agreement one after another.

The characters "ke ming" — in ordinary times as an exam topic they would have been unremarkable, but at this critical juncture, if someone with ulterior motives engaged in far-fetched interpretations, it would truly violate a taboo. Especially since in this examination session, all the examiners were men of the new policies; if any storm of controversy were stirred up, it would indeed be an ugly sight.

For this reason, all the more, they had to be doubly cautious.

Bi Ziyan wasted no words; he directly voided that examination slip and said, "Then I shall draw another from the remaining two."

With that, he shook the slip-cylinder again and tipped out a bamboo slip.

"The self cultivated, thereafter the family regulated; the family regulated, thereafter the state well-governed; the state well-governed, thereafter all under Heaven at peace."

Yet no sooner had this topic been revealed than several examiners in the hall reacted even faster than before, directly shaking their heads in vigorous disapproval.

It was Lu Xiangsheng who took the initiative to explain the reason:

"This line is the very crux of the New Policies. On the surface, it does seem fitting."

"But the trouble is precisely that it is too fitting. Among the candidates now in the capital, I fear every last one of them has already secretly tried writing an essay on this topic." Qi Xinxiao also shook his head and likewise gave a negative opinion:

"Exactly so. Those powerful and influential families, having hired composition tutors for the examination essay, would certainly have obtained this topic long ago, had ghostwriters draft pieces, and practiced copying them day and night. Therefore, if this topic were chosen, there would inevitably be criticism within scholarly circles!"

Bi Ziyan turned his head toward the two chief examiners.

Earlier, when it was a choice between two, he could still draw lots, but now that only one remained, drawing lots was no longer suitable.

Li Banghua and Zheng Sanjun conferred briefly and decided to run through the entire procedure once more for the Great Learning.

After another round of complex, multi-stage lot-drawing, Bi Ziyan read aloud the topic for this time:

"A state does not take profit as profit, but takes righteousness as profit."

The assembled examiners fell into deep thought one after another, carefully savoring the words.

This topic not only avoided all taboos, but could even be called exceedingly ingenious.

Each examiner, having once been a "genius" himself, needed only a single glance at the topic for all manner of approaches to breaking it open to surge forth in his mind.

Extending outward from the topic: if one wrote only of righteousness, that would solidly mark one as a man of the old administration, a stale and pedantic sort incapable of perceiving the New Policies' principle of "guiding according to circumstances." Yet if one wrote only of profit, that likewise would not do, for that would mean one had failed to grasp the "great righteousness under Heaven" that the New Policies had always emphasized.

Thus, in this topic, how to reconcile righteousness and profit was precisely what would test the candidates most.

If one even expanded this topic slightly, and could elaborate by linking it to the present-day Great Ming's series of "dilemmas between righteousness and profit" — such as taxation and the people's hardship — it would be all the more brilliantly superb.

The assembled men raised no further objections and nodded their approval one after another.

"Good. Since none of you have any further issues, then it is settled." Li Banghua brought the discussion to a decisive close. "Secretary Ni, your calligraphy is the finest among those present. You shall transcribe a copy of the topic on the spot, append an account of the procedure just now, immediately seal it in the confidential case, and deliver it to the outer-court Censor for presentation before His Majesty."

"The rest of you, summon the block-carvers and printers in here and get to work carving the blocks and printing without delay!"

The carving of the blocks for the metropolitan examination papers had always been done only on the day before the examination began.

This in itself was a procedure to guard against the leaking of the topics.

Several dozen block-carvers and printers were led into the main hall, and under heavy guard, they set to work on the spot.

On one side they carved the blocks, on the other they set the type and printed, without a moment's pause.

By dusk, after a simple meal, candles were simply lit inside the hall, and the craftsmen labored through the night until dawn.

And the twenty-two examiners, including the two chief examiners, could not leave the premises at this time; even trips to the latrine required someone to keep watch.

They had to supervise the craftsmen throughout the entire process, and supervise themselves as well, keeping vigil together through this long, endless night.

Not until the fourth watch (1–3 a. m.), as the scent of ink mingled with wood shavings pervaded the hall, had the craftsmen printed only three thousand sheets — still half short of the full quantity required.

Yet it was at this very deep hour of the night that the candidates waiting outside the examination compound had already begun to queue for entry.

Outside the main gate of the examination compound, a vast sea of people had now gathered, the glow of lanterns reddening the surrounding night sky.

The gate guards, straining their voices hoarse, called out the names one by one.

Carrying their examination baskets, the candidates loosened their lapels and stood in long lines to undergo the search and inspection; only after their identities were verified could they step through the Dragon Gate.

Amid the jostling crowd, Song Yingxing and his elder brother Song Yingsheng were squeezed beside a stone lion at the gate; though it was winter, they were drenched in sweat from the heat. "Elder Brother, remember, you must remember!"

Song Yingxing gripped Song Yingsheng's hand tightly and, lowering his voice, exhorted him:

"When you set brush to paper this time, you must do everything you can to align with the 'New Policies'!"

"Write of reform, write of practical governance, write of how agriculture, sericulture, and the hundred crafts can enrich the state and strengthen its armies. But whatever you do, do not write any of that sour, pedantic moralizing about righteousness and profit!" He rambled on and on, repeating over and over the things he had already said before:

"We studied the list of examiners for this session together — His Majesty's intent could not be clearer! You must not let your mind go muddled in the examination hall! All those old examination essays from before — you must cast them completely out of your mind and use them no more as reference!"

Song Yingsheng nodded his head in a haphazard way, but his gaze was fixed and vacant; he was not taking his younger brother's words to heart at all.

He was staring intently at a crumpled sheet of paper clutched in his hand, his lips moving, reciting from memory with desperate effort. On it were the topics they had staked their predictions on, the fruit of their combined efforts as brothers, along with the key points for breaking open each topic that they had compiled around them.

Bringing it into the examination hall was of course impossible; the search procedure was extremely strict, one might even say somewhat humiliating.

But in these last moments before entry, every extra word he could cram into his head was one more sliver of hope for passing with high honors.

One brother muttered on and on, the other also muttered on and on; they recited for a long while, each talking to himself.

No one knew how long they waited.

At last, a long, drawn-out, piercing call of a name cut through the boiling din of voices and drifted from afar along the examination compound's corridor.

"Fengxin County, Jiangxi — Song Yingsheng!"

"Here! I am here! This student is here!"

Song Yingsheng started as if waking from a dream and hurriedly stuffed the slip of paper clenched in his palm into Song Yingxing's hand.

With no time to spare for even half a sentence more, he lifted his examination basket, twisted sideways, and fought his way through the dense layers of scholars, answering in a loud voice as he surged forward. Song Yingxing's hand hung frozen in midair; before he could force out the last half of his exhortation, he saw only his elder brother's back bobbing with the flow of the crowd, and in the blink of an eye, he had stepped through that deep, dark vermilion gate of the examination compound and vanished into the shadows at the far end of the corridor.

He stood rooted to the spot, gazing at that slowly closing gate, his heart for a moment overwhelmed by a surge of mingled emotions.

Anxiety, hope, agitation... countless feelings tangled into a knot, pressing down on him until he could scarcely breathe.

A moment later, Song Yingxing withdrew to the foot of a wall, pressed his palms together, bowed his head, and closed his eyes.

"Great Emperor of the Eastern Peak, Emperor of the Purple Tenuity, Lords of the Stars of Literature, the Three Pure Daoist Patriarchs, the Tathagata Buddha of the Western Paradise, the Great Bodhisattva Guanyin of the Southern Sea, the Two Bodhisattvas Samantabhadra and Manjusri, all the gods and sages of the Three Realms, passing spirits, and blessed deities of the Earth Court on high..."

"This humble one, Song Yingxing, kowtows and prays here. I only beseech the azure heavens to shelter and the gods and buddhas to show compassion, to protect my elder brother in this examination session, that his literary thoughts may flow like a spring, that his brush may establish arguments proper in form, fitting the rules of the examination essay, and striking to the crux of the New Policies."

"I beseech all the gods of heaven to bless my elder brother with success in the spring examinations, that his ten years of bitter study by the cold window may not be in vain, and that the hopes of our entire family, old and young, may not be disappointed."

"If the gods should grant this, and a path forward opens for him, then on a chosen day I shall purify myself through fasting and bathing, go in person to the temples to burn incense and make offerings, regild your statues, and fulfill my vow with sincere heart — I shall never betray this pledge!"

His body leaning slightly forward, he stood amid the crowd, eyes closed and hands hanging down, utterly indifferent to the jostling of others.

He merely recited this prayer, worldly to the extreme, over and over in his heart.

No one knew how much time passed. Only when the crowd entering the compound had gradually thinned and the area outside the examination compound had returned to desolation did Song Yingxing at last come back to himself with a start. He opened his eyes, let out a long sigh, and then suddenly felt a jolt of alarm in his heart.

— Damn! I'm going to be late for roll call today!

Song Yingxing lifted his foot to break into a sprint, but then abruptly remembered that the chief of the Academy of Sciences, Xiong Mingyu, was at this very moment inside these high walls and deep courtyards behind him, serving as an associate examiner.

With the boss away, there was no rush to get to work anyway.

Song Yingxing let out a long breath and wiped the cold sweat of fright from his forehead. Only then did he slow his pace and follow the street north toward the Academy of Sciences. In the crisp morning breeze, the sky was still not fully light, yet a lively bustle had already begun to stir.

Along the long street, shops were taking down their bamboo blinds and removing their door panels one after another, setting out their goods but never daring to cross the designated boundary lines.

Breakfast stalls lit their cooking fires, white steam curling upward. The fragrance of noodles and frying oil, mingled with the smoky smell of firewood, drifted faintly through the streets and lanes.

Travelers, porters, and common townsfolk gradually grew more numerous. The cries of hawkers, the murmur of greetings, and the creak and rumble of cartwheels wove together in a scattered yet perfectly harmonious rhythm.

The tea house at the mouth of the lane was already packed with early customers. Long-gowned scholars sat with hands tucked in their sleeves, discoursing idly; traveling merchants lowered their brows, calculating their accounts; a storyteller raised his voice in performance; street peddlers with bamboo baskets slung over their arms hawked their wares along the road — fresh fruit, breakfast foods, needles and thread, an unbroken stream of odds and ends.

Three or five small children made a plaything of a water pump, heaving the handle up and down with all their might. Clear water gurgled out and pooled across the ground, leaving the place a mess, and they were sharply scolded by an adult — but only ran off giggling in a puff of smoke.

Carts and horses kept to the left and moved slowly; pedestrians strolled beside the trees. Everything was in good order, orderly within the seeming chaos.

And so, amid this familiar clamor, Song Yingxing's state of mind gradually settled back to calm.

When it came to "science," he was, of course, fond of it from the bottom of his heart.

In these months at the Academy of Sciences, exposed to those penetrating insights into mathematics, the investigation of things, and agriculture and sericulture, he felt he had at last found the "place where his Dao lay" in this life.

To be the first man to ascend in a hot-air balloon and leave his name in the annals of history — that was an adventure beyond anything he had ever dreamed of.

Yet when it came to his personal prospects, the situation was not nearly so splendid.

Once you enter science, it is science for life.

This was the latest regulation the Academy of Sciences had laid down, several months after its founding.

Henceforth, personnel of the Academy of Sciences, regardless of their rank, would no longer be laterally transferred to the other Six Ministries or the various courts.

The Academy of Sciences had thus become a special institution, standing independent of the traditional Great Ming system.

All its bachelors, masters, and doctors had but a single ultimate purpose — to cultivate and select "grandmasters" in every field of endeavor, and thereby propel that mysterious thing the Emperor called "productivity."

Once this rule came out, naturally, some families were glad and some were sad.

For the medical men, they had all been physicians of the Imperial Academy of Medicine or civilian doctors to begin with, spending their whole lives healing the sick and saving lives. To have a proper government office pay their salaries and grant them official standing — they had no objection whatsoever.

Take Wang Xiangjin, for instance. Although he had come up through the examinations, he was far too old, and his desire for fame far outstripped his desire for official achievement.

Had it been otherwise, he would never have scrambled to board the hot-air balloon in the first place.

But for men like Mao Yuanyi and Geng Yinlou — men who had come up through the proper examination path, were in the prime of life, and had their hearts set on making their mark in officialdom — the Academy's rules became a shackle.

One after another, they submitted memorials seeking a way out, hoping to transfer back to the Ministry of War or to a local post.

The present Emperor proved quite accommodating and approved them all, only requiring that they must serve a full half-year at the Academy and produce results before they could leave, and explicitly stating that "this shall not be taken as a precedent."

Looking at the whole picture, his own present situation, Song Yingxing's, had practically been forcibly "boxed in."

Though even now he had no regrets, and even felt he had been boxed in willingly and gladly.

But not entering the civil examinations was, in the end, not the "proper path" in the eyes of the world. Setting aside service to the nation and official achievement, considering only the family legacy, his clan simply could not bear this sort of personal "willfulness" from him.

Song Yingxing's great-grandfather, Song Jing, had been a jinshi of the Hongzhi era.

In the Jiajing era, he had ultimately risen to the post of Left Chief Censor, and after his death was posthumously awarded the titles of Junior Guardian of the Heir Apparent and Minister of the Ministry of Personnel, with the posthumous name Zhuangjing.

One could say he had been just a single step short of the very highest pinnacle a civil official could reach.

Further down, Song Yingxing's granduncle, Song Heqing, had also been a jinshi of the Longqing era, his highest official post being Assistant Prefect of Liuzhou Prefecture.

Their fathers' generation, however, had all fared poorly in the examinations, their official degrees stopping at government student.

Song Yingxing's granduncle, witnessing the family's fortunes and examination success gradually declining, deeply felt that if the path of the examinations had no successor, this house of scholarship would inevitably wither day by day and its prestige falter. He therefore resolved to resign his post and return home, opening a school to educate the clan's sons, so as to continue the literary line and revive the family's renown.

And Song Yingxing and his elder brother Song Yingsheng were precisely the talents their granduncle had poured all his efforts into cultivating.

Upon their shoulders rested the last hopes of the Fengxin Song clan.

This was also why he and his brother Song Yingsheng, despite failing the examinations time and again, still had to batter themselves against the civil examinations like moths flying into a flame.

The Fengxin Song clan, by their generation, had already reached a perilous cliff's edge.

Climb one step higher, pass the jinshi examination, and they could renew the family's prestige and connections.

But if they stopped here, the accumulated reserves of several generations would be exhausted, and they might slowly, thoroughly fade into the common crowd, degenerating into mere rustic landed gentry. Officialdom was that realistic — if a family had no one in office, all its networks of relationships would gradually decay with time.

For example, among those who had passed the provincial examination in the same year as Song Yingxing was Jiang Yueguang.

Now Jiang Yueguang had entered the New Policies Secretariat and was rising rapidly, his prospects bright.

Because of the bond of being examination classmates of the same year, they could of course still maintain an excellent relationship.

But what of the next generation?

If the Song family produced no further jinshi on the examination path, these personal connections would, in the next generation, slowly break off.

When that time came, how could the two brothers, down beneath the Nine Springs, face the wholehearted cultivation their granduncle had bestowed on them?

Song Yingxing walked on, thinking as he went, his heart filled at once with a fervent passion for truth, with melancholy over his own prospects, and with worry for his elder brother's examination. Before long, he had reached the main gate of the Academy of Sciences.

He put away his thoughts and stepped across the threshold, just about to head for his own work station, when someone suddenly called out and stopped him.

"Scholar Song! Roll call was this morning — why are you late?!"

Startled, Song Yingxing halted his steps and turned to look.

The man who had stopped him was none other than Doctor Li Tianjing, who had just been transferred into the Academy the previous month and was now in charge of astronomy and calendrical science.

This Doctor Li was of proper examination background, having passed in the forty-first year of Wanli.

But unlike Mao Yuanyi and the others, he had no fixation on officialdom and was instead full of interest in astronomy.

He had come to the Academy of Sciences on his own initiative, and genuinely intended to stay here and immerse himself in research.

Precisely for this reason, as soon as Li Tianjing entered the Academy, he swiftly gained the reliance of the director, Xiong Mingyu.

Li Tianjing's face was stern, his brow furrowed.

"Director Xiong has taken up the post of associate examiner for the metropolitan examination. For these few days, all academy affairs have been temporarily entrusted to me, and roll call naturally falls under my management as well."

"You are ordinarily diligent in your work. Why is it that today at roll call, you were late by a full half-watch?"

Song Yingxing hurried forward and bowed with clasped hands in apology.

"Doctor Li, calm your anger. Today is precisely the day the metropolitan examination begins. My elder brother was sitting for the exam, and this humble official went to the examination hall to see him off. In my momentary concern, I unconsciously lost track of the hour — it was not intentional negligence of official duties."

At this explanation, Li Tianjing's expression finally eased.

"The civil examinations are the foremost affair of a man's life, and you two are bound by deep brotherly affection — such a reason is entirely pardonable."

Yet he sighed, and did not retract his words.

"But rules are rules. Tardiness is tardiness, in the end."

"Though today's case is pardonable, this official must still record the demerit according to regulation."

"However, if your monthly evaluation proves worthy, this official will personally plead your case before the Director and have this record expunged."

"Only you must take this as a warning. Do not let the Academy's discipline, so newly established, be tainted by the indolent habits of the old government offices."

Song Yingxing, hearing this, cupped his hands again with sincere respect:

"Your Honor's magnanimity and lofty discernment, your consideration for human feeling — this subordinate official engraves it upon his very heart."

"Today's tardiness was, in the first place, this subordinate's own dereliction. To record the demerit by regulation is only proper; this subordinate raises no objection whatsoever."

Li Tianjing nodded and turned toward the inner quarters. "Come. Just in time to attend the meeting with me, and then we shall review the first draft of the *Small Register of Physical Principles* once more — we must strive to deliver it for printing this month."

"Yes, sir!" Song Yingxing's spirits lifted, and he quickly fell into step.

The two men, one ahead and one behind, hurried along, crossing courtyards and passing through halls.

The several gallery buildings they passed along the way were clearly all hastily erected — the walls not yet trimmed neat, the corners still showing rough, raw edges.

In the courtyard, the bare earth had been given only a cursory narrow path of crushed stone; as they strode across it, clouds of dust at once swirled up.

Yet this shabby, makeshift establishment, caught in the morning light, seemed extraordinarily vibrant and full of life.

Truly it was:

The season when winter nears its end, and spring longs to arrive.