Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Imperial Examinations Approach, Strange Turbulence

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For Princess Taiping, it was only natural that subordinates who made mistakes should be punished. Normally, Princess Taiping never interfered with whatever misdeeds Huifan committed, as long as there was no concrete evidence to hold against him. Since he had now been caught red-handed, his punishment was due to his own incompetence; he had no one to blame but himself.

Princess Taiping wielded unrivaled power at court. She had always been the one to use others—who dared so brazenly to use her? To be manipulated, especially by someone who used her to teach her own people a lesson, was far from pleasant.

She was determined to find out who had the audacity to challenge her authority.

But the information Li Chiying provided was hardly that—she was only a twelve-year-old girl, and the adults she saw were no more than average in stature, albeit attractive. But even setting aside questions of taste, the population of Chang’an had surpassed a million years ago; with so many people, how could anyone keep track of all the striking faces?

To uncover the mysterious figure who had manipulated her, Princess Taiping even sought out the Taoist priest Shi Chongxuan from her faction, instructing him to start the investigation with Ye Fashan and Sun Pu. Shi Chongxuan, like Ye Fashan, was one of the leading figures in Daoism, with equal status. However, while Ye Fashan kept to himself and maintained neutrality despite his involvement in official circles, Shi Chongxuan was a shrewd political opportunist, making him a perfect match for Princess Taiping.

Yet it wasn’t just Shi Chongxuan searching for Pei Min; Huifan was looking for him as well.

Princess Taiping’s word was law—she had promised Li Chiying and would never go back on it. Huifan had endured fifty strokes, been forced to soak in icy water for an hour in the dead of winter, and was demoted from a third-rank official to fourth, his ducal title reduced to that of marquis—a significant loss. Huifan dared not vent his anger on Li Chiying, so he directed it all toward Pei Min, the one who had ruined his plans and landed him in this predicament.

Thus, both the Daoist and Buddhist factions launched investigations into Pei Min.

Pei Min had long anticipated such a development. From the outset, he had never revealed his true name, and afterward, he devoted himself to his studies, never leaving the house. No matter how far Princess Taiping’s influence reached, she could not find a single trace of him.

In the side courtyard of the He Residence—

Pei Min stood on one leg, left hand rising from below, right hand sweeping down from above to meet at the small of his back, his entire body tense as if a crane standing alone.

“Brother Pei, what is this you’re doing?” Zhang Xu, holding a cup of warm wine, lounged comfortably on the veranda, savoring the moment.

Pei Min maintained the pose for about twenty seconds, exhaled, feeling warmth suffuse his body, and replied, “This is a method of cultivating health. Would you like to try, my elder brother? It’s a practice handed down by the immortal Sun Simiao, said to promote beauty and longevity, invigorate the meridians and the blood. One round, and all the winter chill is gone.”

In recent days, Pei Min had benefited greatly from the guidance of He Zhizhang and Zhang Xu at the He Residence; his literary and calligraphic skills had improved by leaps and bounds, and their bond had grown close enough for him to address them as elder brothers.

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Pei Min had originally intended this health regimen for his mother, not for himself. He had never planned to practice it. But a few days prior, as snow and rain fell on Chang’an, the world turning bitterly cold, Pei Min remained indoors reading, only to find a deep chill creeping through him, leaving him most uncomfortable. At such times, he would usually practice swordplay in the courtyard to warm himself, but with the snow falling and the cramped room too small for such activity, he instead fetched the health guide Sun Pu had given him and began to imitate the poses illustrated within.

From his very first attempt, Pei Min sensed a surge of warmth throughout his body, the chill completely banished. Each pose brought an intense heat to certain areas, a blend of comfort and even aching soreness.

In his later life at university, Pei Min had frequented the gym in pursuit of romance, so he knew a bit about fitness; such sensations were a clear sign that those muscles were being exercised and broken down.

After one session, he found himself sweating profusely despite the winter chill, feeling wonderful. The next day, however, he was so sore he could hardly get out of bed.

A few days of continued practice convinced Pei Min of the method’s efficacy. His sleep improved dramatically, his spirits soared, his mind was clear, and he no longer felt the winter’s lethargy. He set himself a small goal: to practice a round every morning after rising, dispelling the winter gloom and preparing himself for the day’s reading.

Zhang Xu, intrigued by the mention of Sun Simiao’s legacy, decided to give it a try.

To demonstrate clearly, Pei Min performed the moves slowly and deliberately.

Zhang Xu followed along, lifting his leg. If Pei Min resembled a graceful crane, Zhang Xu looked more like a yellow dog relieving itself, his body swaying precariously, on the verge of toppling over.

He hadn’t even managed to bring both hands behind his back before he lost balance and set his raised foot down.

Several attempts left him sweating, not one pose performed correctly.

“To drive out the cold and get the blood flowing, all you really need is a drink!” Zhang Xu returned to his seat on the veranda, resuming his wine.

Pei Min only smiled and continued his own practice, undisturbed.

The days passed quietly.

Pei Min’s life was simple but never dull. Each day he read and practiced swordsmanship, and in the evenings, he enjoyed wine and discussions of the classics and history with He Zhizhang and Zhang Xu.

Winter faded, and spring arrived.

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The day of the Spring Examination drew ever closer.

As the imperial exams approached, every inn in Chang’an was crowded with scholars from every region. The gates of aristocratic mansions teemed with candidates bearing poems and letters of introduction, making last-ditch efforts to win favor.

The custom of presenting poems and letters was widespread—of some two hundred candidates, almost all engaged in it save for Pei Min. In the past, he might have joined them, but now he understood that for this round of exams, such methods would be futile; he would be better off consolidating his own knowledge.

As Pei Min anticipated, just days before the examination, the retired emperor Li Dan took charge of state affairs.

Li Longji submitted a memorial listing the flaws in the examination system through the ages, arguing that the only way to select true talent for the nation was to introduce the anonymous examination system. He advocated for the implementation of sealed-name papers.

Princess Taiping’s faction was caught off guard by this development, unprepared for the change. Moreover, Li Longji’s proposal addressed the core problems of the examination system and required little in the way of resources to enact, yet promised to transform the custom. Such a measure was hard to refute.

Li Dan gave his full approval, agreeing to the sealed-name system. This formally opened the door for impartial examinations in the Tang dynasty. From this point on, impartiality became the guiding principle for the imperial examinations, setting them on the right track—a milestone that history would only reach in the Song dynasty.

This was something Pei Min had not expected.

But beyond the change to the examination system, another piece of news sent true shockwaves through the court. The retired emperor Li Dan proposed that Li Longji tour the frontier regions.

An emperor who had failed to gain real power in the palace was now to be dispatched from the capital to travel the borderlands.

Court and public alike speculated about Li Dan’s true intentions. Was he genuinely sending Li Longji to tour the borders and project imperial authority, or was he removing the emperor from the capital as a prelude to deposing him and installing another, thus minimizing upheaval?

The air was thick with intrigue.