Chapter 41: The Provincial Exam Is In Progress

“Renjie, younger brother.”

“Brother Chen.”

In the Water Margin world, in a roadside inn in Jinan, the provincial capital of Shandong,

Zhang Jie was greeting a middle-aged man dressed as a scholar.

“Master, I’ve prepared everything you needed.”

Pan Jinlian hurried over to Zhang Jie’s side and said.

“Mm.” Zhang Jie nodded.

“Haha, Madam Pan, no need to rush,

today is only registration day; the provincial exam officially begins tomorrow.”

Seeing Pan Jinlian panting and flustered, the middle-aged scholar Chen Xiucai smiled and reminded her.

“I knew the exam procedure already, and I told Pan Jinlian not to be so anxious,

but she kept worrying and rechecking the exam supplies over and over.

Still, Brother Chen’s reminder came from good intentions, and Zhang Jie appreciated it.

After all, no one is obligated to help another; Chen Xiucai didn’t have to say anything,

but since he did, Zhang Jie owed him this favor.

After all, no one is obligated to help another; it was Chen the Scholar’s right not to speak up.

Pan Jinlian’s voice was sultry, her gaze toward Zhang Jie clinging like silk.

She was so excited because “my wife” was how a man introduced his wife to others.

Zhang Jie’s words had just formally established her status!

Her greatest hope before had merely been to become a concubine.

After all, her origins were far too humble—she had been a servant sold into servitude.

Looking at Pan Jinlian, her eyes brimming with affection, Zhang Jie felt utterly at peace.

He held no deep sense of social hierarchy, and Pan Jinlian had stayed by his side through his weakest years.

Now that he was about to rise, he would not abandon her.

As for her lowly birth?

Zhang Jie simply said: money can’t buy this kind of happiness.

“Still, after the provincial exam ends, will I unlock some new knowledge?”

Zhang Jie thought, his heart stirring with anticipation.

Male-female affection was one of humanity’s greatest desires—he was no exception.

And in these days of growing physical strength, had he not held back repeatedly,

Pan Jinlian would have been utterly outmatched long ago.

“Hmm, should I send Yitian to Mount Emei?”

Zhang Jie pondered this matter tied to his future happiness.

If Pan Jinlian could learn a martial art like the Emei Nine Yang Art,

perhaps she wouldn’t keep losing so badly, right?

“Brother Zhang, what are you saying?

If not for your kindness in taking me in, I might still be without a place to stay!”

Chen Xiucai bowed gratefully to Zhang Jie. He had been delayed on the road for several days,

and by the time he reached Jinan, every inn and guesthouse was full.

He searched desperately but found nowhere to lodge.

Zhang Jie helped him up, glancing at his blue robe—though free of patches,

it had faded to gray from repeated washing—and understood at once.

Chen Xiucai failed to find lodging partly because he arrived late,

but mostly because he had no money.

Just as hotels and guesthouses skyrocketed in price during civil service exams in the 21st century,

Jinan’s inns had gone mad with price hikes during this period.

Even modest inns charged silver taels per night.

Remember, in the Da Song dynasty, an ordinary farming household spent only a few dozen taels a year.

Like Zhang Jie’s teacher Li Xiucheng, a scholar who ran a private school in his hometown of Yuncheng County,

Chen Xiucai had little savings—barely enough to cover travel expenses for the exam,

let alone food, drink, or lodging at these exorbitant inns.

Had Zhang Jie not taken pity on Chen Xiucai’s kind face and offered help,

Chen Xiucai would have been forced to sleep in a temple outside the city.

“Sigh! I wonder if I’ll pass this exam?”

Looking at Zhang Jie’s youthful, even somewhat naive face, Chen Xiucai sighed inwardly.

Compared to Zhang Jie, who was taking the provincial exam for the first time,

he was a seasoned veteran who had failed many times.

He passed the scholar exam at twenty-five; this was his seventh attempt at the provincial exam.

From youth to middle age, from black hair to white, he still hadn’t achieved his wish.

“Master, the carriage is ready.”

Soon after, Wu Song arrived to report that the transport had been prepared.

“Good.”

Zhang Jie immediately set out for the examination grounds with Pan Jinlian and the others.

Of course, he also brought along the penniless Chen Xiucai.

Zhang Jie immediately led Pan Jinlian and the others toward the provincial examination grounds.

“I wonder how hard the exam questions will be this time?”

“I hope they don’t test the Mencius—I haven’t memorized it fully yet.”

“Confucius, protect me—let me pass this time!”

“Lord of Literature, bless me!”

As soon as they arrived outside the examination compound, a cacophony of voices flooded Zhang Jie’s ears.

The square outside the compound was packed with scholars come to take the exam.

Some were wealthy young masters in silk robes, attended by servants carrying exam baskets;

others were poor scholars, alone and dressed in tattered clothes.

Some were elderly men with white beards, past fifty; others were child prodigies still youthful in face.

Outside the compound, the whole scene was a swirling tapestry of human life.

“The chief examiner arrives!”

As the official crier shouted, the chief examiner of this provincial exam arrived.

The noisy atmosphere instantly cleared; scholars lowered their voices, even when speaking.

The chief examiner was the official responsible for administering the exam, setting questions, grading papers, and selecting candidates.

In other words, the fate of every scholar present—

at least for this provincial exam—rested in the hands of this chief examiner.

Scholars dared not speak loudly, fearing they’d leave a bad impression.

Zhang Jie didn’t care much, but he welcomed the quiet.

“Gentlemen, follow me to pay respects to Confucius.”

The chief examiner strode to the stone statue of Confucius in the center of the compound square.

Attendants, already prepared, swiftly brought forward ritual vessels—deng, xing, fu, gui—laden with offerings: white cakes,

black cakes, dates, chestnuts, water caltrops, and lotus seeds.

“Pay respects to Confucius!”

The chief examiner lit the jiangzhen incense himself and bowed deeply before the statue.

“Pay respects to Confucius!”

The assistant examiners behind him bowed in unison.

“Pay respects to Confucius!”

The scholars dared not delay—they bowed reverently one after another.

Zhang Jie bowed too, following the crowd.

As he bowed, he marveled at Confucius’s terrifying status in ancient dynasties.

Through generations of emperors and scholars, Confucius had transformed from a thinker of the Spring and Autumn period

into a sage: “Had Heaven not sent Zhongni, ten thousand ages would have been as endless night.”

He held neither worship nor hatred toward Confucius.

The thinkers of the Spring and Autumn period became sages, hailed as "Had Heaven not given birth to Zhongni, ten thousand ages would be as endless night."

He neither reverently worshipped Confucius nor harbored intense hatred toward him.

In fact, Zhang Jie believed Confucius and later Confucianism should be viewed separately.

Later Confucianism, after being “reformed” by figures like Dong Zhongshu, incorporated feudal ideas such as the “Three Bonds and Five Constants.”

It had become a tool of class domination in feudal society, though whether it was useful or not was another matter.

Confucius’s advocacy in the Spring and Autumn period of “restoring the Zhou rites” was not an attempt to turn back time.

Rather, he saw the collapse of order, constant warfare among states, rulers all seeking hegemony, and the people suffering unbearable hardship.

He personally favored the restoration and longing for order.

Zhang Jie thought the later saying “topple the Confucian shop, rescue Confucius” was very correct.

Confucius was simply a thinker, an educator; we must not overinflate him.

After all, he was not a true immortal or sage who knew five thousand years before and five thousand years after.

Nor must we undervalue him, for he had been dead for thousands of years,

and his ideas were still progressive in the Spring and Autumn era.

As for Confucius’s greatest stain—the line of hereditary Duke Yansheng who preached loyalty with iron bones yet spent generations submitting surrender documents?

One can only say no one can guarantee all their descendants are good.

Even a great man may have an unvirtuous wife and an unfilial son.

Moreover, it was not necessarily Confucius’s descendants who submitted surrender documents—it was those who submitted surrender documents who became known as Confucius’s descendants.

…

The ceremony honoring Confucius proceeded in orderly fashion.

“Bow again!”

“Bow a third time!”

“Ceremony complete!”

“May the Sage Confucius protect me! May the Sage Confucius protect me!”

Even after the ceremony ended, some scholars still muttered prayers before Confucius’s statue.

Zhang Jie was no longer surprised by this.

In Jinan, the Confucius Temple was always packed with incense before every provincial examination.

Candidates would come with their brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone to have them “blessed.”

Some even felt that blessing the writing tools was not enough,

so they would roll themselves on the temple steps,

determined to soak every inch of their bodies in the Sage’s scholarly aura.

Besides worshipping the “exam deity,” eating auspicious foods for good fortune was also essential.

In Shandong, many foods carried auspicious meanings,

such as the famous specialty “Zhuangyuan Cake,” named for its shape resembling the hat worn by newly crowned top scholars.

“Candidates, enter!”

After honoring Confucius, the provincial examination officially began—the candidates now entered.

The scholars present spontaneously lined up along the entrance passage.

Soon, several long lines formed, composed entirely of scholars.