Chapter 370: At Worst, Start Over from the Beginning

Ban Biao raged in helpless fury, shut himself in his study, and wrote furiously, trying to force out a masterpiece — while Cheng Gong, too, met a turning point in his fate.

On the twelfth day of the third month, after bathing and changing clothes, they set out from the Imperial Academy at first light; the King of Wei had specially dispatched over three hundred carriages and horses to greet them.

Officials organized the crowd to board the carriages in order.

"Those on the third-rank list, board a single-horse cart."

"Those on the second-rank list, board a two-horse light carriage."

"Those on the first-rank list, board a relay carriage."

"The top three, board a relay express carriage!"

Cheng Gong boarded a "relay carriage" — a comfortable enclosed carriage; the driver even turned his head curiously to glance at him.

Once the several hundred horse-drawn carriages began to move, this talkative driver struck up a conversation with him.

"This superior official..."

"My name is Cheng Gong, I am no superior official — just call me Shaozi." Even after placing so high, Cheng Gong still spoke like a human being.

The driver laughed. "Once you enter the palace as a Palace Gentleman, you'll be a superior official indeed."

"Then call me 'sir' instead." Cheng Gong liked that form of address. "Do you fellows come from the palace?"

The driver said to Cheng Gong, "We are charioteers from the Office of the Grand Coachman. Today, to welcome you all into the palace, we've mobilized over three hundred conveyances and more than a thousand horses. The enclosed carriage you ride in, sir, is called a relay carriage — in the post-station hierarchy, it ranks third, drawn by four horses of the lower grade. On ordinary days, only officials of six-hundred-bushel rank are entitled to ride in one."

"And those three relay express carriages running up ahead, with four horses of the middle grade — normally only officials of two-thousand-bushel rank may ride in those."

It was plain to see that the King of Wei treated them with considerable courtesy — though Palace Gentlemen sent out to provincial posts were essentially four-hundred or six-hundred-bushel officials, so they did indeed merit it.

The route to Chang'an was the same one Cheng Gong had taken when he led his disciples sightseeing through the city, but his state of mind was utterly different. All along the way, people from the wards and hamlets watched and pointed from the roadside. After they entered the Fubing Gate, even more onlookers lined both sides of Hengmen Avenue — the common folk of Chang'an simply loved a spectacle.

In front of the procession rode the tithing cavalry and halberd-bearing guards dispatched by the Commandant of the Capital, Di Biao, with full retinue and regalia. The carriages were deliberately driven very slowly, letting the commoners cast envious glances their way.

When a general returned in triumph, there would be a grand prisoner-presentation ceremony to flaunt martial prowess. And this first civil-service examination likewise gave the civil clerks ample glory — though this channel of advancement would see its threshold rise year by year, and the competition would grow ever fiercer.

When they reached the Azure Dragon Gate at the eastern entrance of Weiyang Palace, before which Cheng Gong had once made distant obeisance, this time the great gate did not shut tight against them but stood wide open. The three-hundred-odd carriages entered in sequence, passing through the long, narrow gate tunnel — the heart of the new regime lay just ahead.

The awe of entering the palace for the first time needs no elaboration. The carriages halted upon reaching the Golden Horse Gate; although the rear palace had been moved to Jianzhang Palace to the west, any further inward lay the central hub of the court, the Six Great Halls — everyone had to proceed on foot.

Guided by protocol officials and the Gentlemen's Office, the three-hundred-odd men, all dressed in black robes and wearing uniform black cloth caps, entered accordingly. Along both sides of the imperial way stood Tiger Guard soldiers on sentry duty, commanded by the Weiyang Guard Commandant Zheng Tong. Watching the scene from atop the Golden Horse Gate, he gave a cold snort when a guard beside him remarked enviously that scholars had it pretty good too.

"A bunch of bookworms, that's all — do they deserve such ceremony? Wait until I can campaign again; you'll all follow me to cut off the heads of the Han emperors and bring them back as tribute. The whole city will cheer, we'll be enfeoffed as marquises and granted lands, and feast and drink in the Front Hall — a hundred times better than their carriage parade through the streets."

Without military merit or the cession of territory, no one could be enfeoffed as a marquis — not even the Chancellor. This was something Diwu Lun insisted upon. Several of the founding stalwarts among the Nine Ministers were still mere earls; this was an honor reserved exclusively for military men.

It was just a pity that Zheng Tong had been wounded at the Battle of Yao Pass, and with old injuries flaring up, he needed a year or so to recover. Guarding the King of Wei's gate still beat idling at home. "What's more, we can read now too — that makes us accomplished in both letters and arms. Aren't we better than these rotten pedants?"

As the central garrison force, the King of Wei was very lenient with his loyal guards. The soldiers rotated on duty, and on their days off they had to attend the "night school" that Attendant Gentleman of the Masters of Writing Zhu Di had opened by royal command — specifically to provide literacy training for rough, unlettered men. At minimum, they had to be able to write reports and understand military regulations.

Occasionally, when the King of Wei had leisure, he would even personally teach them a lesson or two, lest he grow distant from his trusted old troops.

Aside from the military men who looked down on the newly arrived Palace Gentlemen and Attendants, the palace's holdover officials from the former dynasty also watched these competitors with unfriendly eyes, deciding that once the newcomers truly entered officialdom, they would give this bunch a good dressing-down, make them roll around in the mud a few times, and learn their proper place.

But Cheng Gong completely ignored these malicious gazes, absorbed only in studying the towering palace buildings, pacing out with his steps the ancient, mottled stone bricks beneath his feet — bricks that had weathered three dynasties.

The civil-service examination was still a notch below a military commander's triumphant return and enfeoffment; they could not use the Front Hall, reserved for grand state ceremonies, and were received only in the Proclamation Chamber, employing the protocol of the "informal court in the royal repose chamber."

But the newly promoted scholars, ignorant of palace operations, knew only that they had reached the pinnacle of life. After entering the hall and taking their seats, they were personally received by the King of Wei.

The day before, Wang Long had said that the King of Wei had personally selected all three hundred sixty essays. Unlike the Filial and Incorrupt nomination system, there was no intermediary or sponsor between them and the King of Wei.

"The King of Wei is your patron, and you are the King of Wei's disciples!"

Many accepted this formulation, their gratitude toward the King of Wei overflowing in their words and expressions. How a recommended scholar should be loyal to his patron was common knowledge everyone understood. They must be utterly devoted, and at the same time cautious and diligent, treading as if on thin ice, never daring to betray the King of Wei's intent in selecting worthy talent.

Du Du, Fu Long, and the other top three stood furthest forward, while Cheng Gong, Di San Kui, and the rest of the top ten stood in the second row.

As the bells tolled, the King of Wei strode into the hall. The assembly prostrated themselves, and when Cheng Gong raised his head, he could see the King of Wei's figure just ten paces away — in black court robes, majestic and imposing. He swept his gaze over the crowd and declared with satisfaction:

"Half the literary talent under Heaven is gathered in this hall!"

In the State of Wei's first civil-service examination, over two thousand had sat for it and just over three hundred were selected — the ratio was not too low. But more than two thousand had failed. Watching the successful ones ride in royal carriages and flaunt their names, they felt envy, but also sank into deep dejection.

If only they had solved that one question, if only they had practiced their prose more on ordinary days, if only...

Though Diwu Lun had sent men to proclaim an edict, saying that all who had persisted to the end of the exam could take their tally and be given priority placement as clerks and assistant scribes in the military camps for training — most scoffed at this. They were not yet so destitute that they had to find a job.

When they heard that there would be another examination in two years, many scholars rallied their spirits once more.

"Last time we were simply unfamiliar with the examination format — at worst, we'll just take it again."

"Indeed. I've heard that in the time of Han Emperor Yuan, there was a man named Kuang Heng. His family was poor, and he took the examination at the Imperial Academy. Every time he sat for it, he failed to make the list — until the ninth attempt, when he finally passed the third-rank list and was appointed as a Literary Clerk in Taiyuan Commandery. Yet Kuang Heng later became Chancellor."

"Isn't it just two years? Two times nine is eighteen. We'll go back and emulate Su Qin — tie our hair to the beam and jab our thighs with an awl — study day and night, practice essays and policy arguments. I refuse to believe that in eighteen years we still can't pass the third rank!"

Those resolved to try a second time numbered over a thousand. Meanwhile, the Erudites of the Imperial Academy whispered among themselves. During the Han and Xin dynasties, the reason their schools of learning had thousands upon thousands of disciples was precisely because students like Kuang Heng kept enrolling under them — only that way could one obtain the qualification to sit the examination and become an official.

It was for this very reason that the founder of the Elder Xiahou school of the Documents dared to tell his disciples: "What a scholar fears most is failing to master the classics. Once the classics are thoroughly understood, seizing the blue and purple seal-ribbons of office is as easy as bending down to pluck a blade of grass."

But now Diwu Lun had abolished the Filial and Incorrupt nomination system, merged it with the examination, and stripped the Imperial Academy Erudites of their authority to set the exam questions — which was tantamount to strangling their foundation for extending and expanding their influence.

If one no longer needed to study the Five Classics, and merely knowing the Analects and the Classic of Filial Piety sufficed to sit the exam, then why spend years or even decades laboriously studying the Five Classics?

The sharper Erudites had already realized that this concerned the very survival of their schools. There was still time before the next exam — the top priority was to lobby the court with all their might, to persuade the King of Wei to include questions on the Five Classics, preferably questions from their own school!

And it was at this moment that a riddle which had long perplexed the examinees was finally unveiled.

"Gentlemen, the Office of the Minister of Ceremonies has announced: that classics question, 'Practice what you practice,' comes from the Model Sayings of Master Yang Ziyun, teacher of the King of Wei!"

This was confirmed, ironclad news. There were also many other rumors circulating in the lanes and wards.

"I heard that those who modeled their policy essays on Yang Xiong's 'Memorial Advising Against Campaigning Against the Xiongnu' all received high marks!"

"That makes sense — the King of Wei's knowledge of the dialects of the Nine Provinces was taught by Master Yang Ziyun."

Those slow on the uptake suddenly understood, and began asking one another:

"Where can one borrow the Model Sayings to copy?"

"Where can one study the learning of Master Yang?"

In late third month, the five men with the finest policy essays in the exam — Du Du, Fu Long, and the others — were required, on their very first day as Palace Gentlemen, to polish and refine the essays in which they had expounded that the Han house's allotted span of fortune was exhausted.

After all, they were dashed off for the exam — no comparison to pieces where every word was weighed and polished with care.

Once revised, Diwu Lun would have these essays, together with works by Wang Long and Feng Yan, distributed to every commandery — even sent into enemy territory.

The people's hearts long for Han? After the better part of a year of chaos under the various Han factions, the common folk have basically given up that illusion. It's the scholarly circles that are still muddled. On the battlefield of public opinion, Diwu Lun reckoned that any casual idea of his would be a dimensionality-reducing strike, a dragon swooping down on their faces — how could he possibly lose?

He could only hope that the hemp paper — which he had ordered the Privy Treasurer and the Commandant of Waters and Parks to supply manpower for, working extra shifts, and which was based on the former Han's Ba Bridge paper — along with the leapfrogging block-printing technique, could be finished on schedule.

At the same time, a "Yang Xiong craze" swept through the city of Chang'an.

Diwu Lun issued an edict: from the fourth month onward, the dozen or so elementary schools in the wards and hamlets of Chang'an were to resume classes and uniformly adopt Yang Xiong's *Exhortation to Learning* as their literacy primer. The government offices had already copied many copies and distributed them.

There had long been several such character-learning books. The more ancient one was the *Cangjie Primer*; in Shu, Sima Xiangru's *Fanjiang Primer* was the main text; and more recently, the *Libationer Primer* had been common.

But in terms of being the newest and most comprehensive, the palm had to go to the *Exhortation to Learning*, which Yang Xiong had compiled by imperial order during the reign of Emperor Ping of Han. It continued the *Cangjie* while removing its duplicate characters, comprising thirty-four chapters and two thousand and forty characters — essentially encompassing all Chinese characters at the time.

This task was assigned to Grand Preceptor Zhang Zhan, who oversaw culture and education, and to Wang Long, Superintendent of Ceremonial, to carry out. In Guanzhong, the book would begin to be promoted after the autumn harvest; the remaining commanderies were to implement it one after another from the following year onward.

Diwu Lun also took the copies of Yang Xiong's works stored in the Tianlu Pavilion — *Model Sayings*, *The Supreme Mystery*, and all of Yang Xiong's poems and rhapsodies — and "presented" them to the Imperial Academy.

It was a kind gesture from the King of Wei, so the old Erudites at the Imperial Academy could hardly refuse to accept them, and they were obliged to make them freely available for the Academy students to copy.

Seeing how things were shaping up, everyone concluded that in the next civil service examination, the King of Wei would surely stuff his teacher's learning into it again. So they all scrambled to get copies. For a time, bamboo slips in Chang'an grew expensive. And although the meaning of these texts was profoundly deep, obscure, and hard to understand, they still had to grit their teeth and chew through them.

As for the lanes and alleys, Yang Xiong's most celebrated poems and rhapsodies grew popular once more, becoming the elegant verses that scholars vied to recite during spring outings. Those visiting the Shanglin Park would declaim the "Changyang Palace Rhapsody."

Such was the scene that greeted Hou Ba, Yang Xiong's senior disciple and envoy from Shu, when he entered Chang'an.

Hou Ba had not traveled north together with Feng Yan. He had waited for the Shu army to capture Wudu. Once spring had warmed and the flowers bloomed, he headed north from Wudu, took the Sanguan Road to Chencang, and then slowly made his way east.

Upon entering Chang'an, hearing the intimately familiar verses and finding that everyone spoke of Master Yang, Hou Ba — who had kept vigil at Yang Xiong's grave for three years, his beard now grown long — could not hold back his tears, and they streamed down his face.

"It's only a pity that the Master cannot see this scene."

Though Yang Xiong liked to mock and belittle himself, in his heart he still wished for his learning to be widely disseminated. It was only a pity that his political career had gone poorly, his leg was broken, his reputation ruined, and his scholarship met with contempt. Apart from Huan Tan, hardly anyone could recognize its worth. And as for Huan Tan's prediction that Yang Xiong was more than just "the Confucius of the Western Regions," no one believed it either.

Follow the public account: Book Friends Base Camp — follow and receive cash and coins!

But his junior fellow disciple, Diwu Lun, not only remembered — he had put it into action with his own hands!

Touched as Hou Ba was, he did not know that behind this show of honoring their teacher's learning, Diwu Lun harbored a still deeper purpose. And so a faint worry stirred within him.

After Wang Long welcomed him into Weiyang Palace, the three fellow disciples, reunited for the first time in several years, shared wine and laughter. Then Hou Ba, his heart heavy with concern, rose from his seat and prostrated himself, saying to Diwu Lun:

"The Master, though he sought to make his writings renowned in later ages, wished it to happen naturally — to devote his mind inwardly, and not seek outwardly."

"Your Majesty now uses government decrees to forcibly promote them. Though it yields swift results, I fear it is not what the Master would have been glad to see."

…

(Alliance Leader bonus chapter 8/23)