Chapter Two: He Xuzhi's Astonishment

As the appointed hour drew near, the chief examiner of Youzhou, his face aglow with satisfaction, appeared atop the platform to explain the rules of the examination in detail.

Since this was a regional qualifying exam, the supervision was not overly strict—he especially emphasized certain regulations and points of caution. When his speech concluded, the auspicious time for entering the hall had arrived.

Pei Min carefully arranged his pens, ink, water, and his own set of eating utensils and food box. Seeing everything in order, he joined Yan Gaoqing and Yuan Luqian, following the stream of candidates. After a thorough body search, they entered the examination hall built specifically for the qualifying exam, handed over their identification letters and documents to the officials for verification, and received their examination tokens.

The tokens were distributed randomly so that acquaintances would not be seated together, thus preventing collusion.

Pei Min's token placed him in the third row, fifth seat of the Bing section. Yan Gaoqing and Yuan Luqian were in different sections. With a subtle exchange of glances, they offered mutual encouragement.

Pei Min found his seat, surrounded by strangers. A few lucky ones had familiar faces nearby, but even then, they dared only exchange glances, not words. Once inside the hall, whether or not the questions had been distributed, the exam was considered to have begun. Any action that displeased the proctors could result in immediate expulsion—one could only try again the following year.

Pei Min set out his writing tools and poured himself a cup of water, sipping leisurely. The qualifying exam consisted of three sessions, one each day. During the exam, the hall provided food but not utensils; officials would not serve tea or water, so candidates brought their own drinking water.

In his previous life, Pei Min had the habit of drinking tea—whether thirsty or idle, he always had a cup at hand. In this world, tea was not available, so he switched to drinking water, taking a few sips whenever he pleased. For this exam, he brought little else, but his supply of water was ample, more than sufficient for the day's needs.

Soon, the official overseeing their section entered with the examination questions. Before distributing them, another official verified tokens and documents to ensure everything was correct. Only then were the questions ready to be handed out.

Pei Min observed the orderly process and silently admired it. Though the imperial examination had been established for just over a century, each step was carefully designed—not perfect, but without obvious flaws.

Before the questions were distributed, the proctor coughed and announced, "Today's examination lasts one full day, ending before sunset. If time is insufficient, you may continue for the duration of three candles; when the candles burn out, pens must stop. I hope you all strive diligently to serve the nation." After this customary exhortation, the questions were posted high for all to see.

Pei Min glanced at the questions—they were indeed verbatim recitations of the classics and histories. His mind was clear: the qualifying exam was the first stage, unrelated to essays or poetry. It tested foundational skills—rote memorization and mastery of scholarly texts.

The method of examination was rigid, but it had its rationale.

According to Pei Min's understanding, such a rigid method could reveal both intellect and character.

Though it seemed mere memorization, if one's mind lacked acuity or intelligence, no amount of diligence could commit the Five Classics, Three Classics, Two Classics, the exhaustive learning of a single classic, the Three Rites, and the Three Commentaries—the vast and daunting corpus of Confucian texts—to memory. Even a genius, without painstaking effort, could not recite the classics fluently.

To pass, wisdom and patience were both indispensable.

The first step of the imperial examination should test these two abilities; neat writing and elegant calligraphy were merely supplementary.

The questions required the candidates to transcribe sections from the "Book of Documents," specifically the "Shang Shu," the "Rites of the Zhou," and the "Funeral Rites for Scholars."

Pei Min did not rush to write. Instead, he organized the material in his mind. The "Book of Documents" was the first ancient anthology and earliest historical record of China, focused on recorded speech. From Yao and Shun through Xia, Shang, and Zhou, spanning over two millennia, the "Shang Shu" chronicled the history of the Shang dynasty—from Tang's defeat of Xia Jie to the fall of the Shang, ending with King Wu's enfeoffment of Weizi at Song. Though not lengthy, its content was profound; to transcribe it entirely was no simple feat. It was not required to be perfect word-for-word—accuracy, fluency, and conveying the intended meaning were essential.

Pei Min mentally recited the passage from memory. Where his recollection faltered, he relied on context and his understanding of ancient meanings, supplementing as needed—a word more or less mattered little, so long as the meaning was correct and the flow smooth.

He spent nearly half an hour in silent review, not touching pen or ink, only reciting and pondering in his mind.

The proctor for the Bing section was He Xuzhi from Yongxing in Yuezhou. In his youth, he and his cousin both succeeded in the imperial exams, but after offending Princess Taiping, he was sent to Youzhou as a minor official, whiling away his days.

From the moment the exam began, He Xuzhi kept his eyes on Pei Min, paying him special attention.

From slaying the prince of the Xi tribe to capturing the traitor Li Wuyi, Pei Min was well-known in Ji City. Especially after Xue Na personally recommended him for the qualifying exam, he became a sensation in Youzhou.

Xue Na was famously upright, intolerant of corruption. When the infamous official Lai Junchen wielded power, Xue Na showed no deference. Now he had made an exception for a young man—this sparked widespread curiosity. Who was this youth?

Upon investigation, Pei Min proved to be a scion of the Pei clan of Hedong, who had forsaken the opportunity to study at the Jishan academy out of filial piety, severing ties with his family to sit for the imperial exam.

Devoted to filial duty, courageous and strategic—a remarkable youth who naturally attracted attention.

Yet half the exam session had passed, and Pei Min had not written a single word, causing concern for him.

He Xuzhi recalled his own experience as a candidate—his pen flowed as if guided by the gods. Even if these questions were difficult, he would never have left the page blank.

"Could the rumors be false? Is Pei Min merely strong, lacking any scholarly talent?" He Xuzhi wondered, his expression odd.

As he drifted into speculation, Pei Min finally moved.

He took out an ink pellet, dissolved it in water, and stirred it to a smooth consistency. Then, with brush in hand and sleeve drawn up, he bowed his head and began to write—his speed was astonishing.

He Xuzhi, full of curiosity, strode casually to Pei Min's desk. One glance, and he could not help but silently praise: "Beautiful!"

Instantly, he understood Pei Min's method. The greatest pitfall in writing was disjointedness—when the text lacked continuity and the brushwork was fragmented. Pei Min had first studied the material thoroughly in his mind, then wrote it out in one continuous flow. This approach ensured the work was as elegant and neat as possible.

He studied the small script carefully, and his expression grew more impressed. He was not an expert in calligraphy himself, but his cousin He Zhizhang was renowned for it, a fellow top scholar in the imperial exams, whose writing he had seen often. He could recognize excellence.

Pei Min's script possessed the aura of a master.