Chapter Thirty-Two: The Top Student

As the hour of Shen approached, Zhang Yue, dressed in new clothes and socks, made his way toward the Hall of Daylight Splendor, filled with anticipation, excitement, and a hint of apprehension.

Upon arrival, Zhang Yue did not enter immediately. The rules at Nanfeng Academy were thus: lessons by the professor began at Chen hour and continued until noon. After midday, when the bell from the neighboring Nanfeng Temple rang, the students dispersed for lunch. Following their meal, adhering to the scholarly belief that long study harmed one’s vitality, the students would engage in games of pitch-pot or archery, seldom returning to the hall for further study. Professors too would retire to their quarters for a midday nap—an indulgence befitting the aged, though it was spoken of as a habit for young scholars.

Only after the hour of Shen would the professor return to the Hall of Daylight Splendor, to answer questions and resolve doubts for the students. Many aspiring scholars would journey across mountains to seek his counsel. Zhang Yue, too, was there as a visitor, not an official pupil.

He waited quietly by the hall, watching as groups of academy students arrived in twos and threes, passing before him. At that moment, Zhang Heng appeared with several fellow students and a scholar in white, laughing and conversing as they walked. Zhang Heng and the scholar in white walked side by side, the others trailing behind like attendants. Seeing this, Zhang Yue stepped aside.

Initially, Zhang Heng did not notice him, but as they drew near, he caught sight of Zhang Yue, paused thoughtfully, and said nothing. After the group had passed, Zhang Heng stopped, turned, and addressed him: “Why wait outside? Come in.”

He had unexpectedly invited Zhang Yue inside. Zhang Yue was unsure what to make of this.

Zhang Heng added, “We have a distinguished guest today; see that you do not act improperly.”

Zhang Yue replied with dignity, “I understand. I would not presume to trouble the prefect with reminders.”

With a snort, Zhang Heng turned and left.

After waiting a while longer, Zhang Yue approached the steps, removed his shoes, and placed them at the farthest end of the neatly arranged footwear—mostly wooden clogs—lining the entry. The sight reminded him of the disordered pile of shoes outside the computer lab in his student days.

“Truly the sons of gentry,” Zhang Yue could not help but think.

He stepped over the threshold and entered, taking his place at the back of the hall. At the front stood the professor, Zhang Heng, and the scholar in white.

Zhang Heng addressed the professor, “Sir, this is the top scorer of the current examination!”

The scholar in white bowed deeply. “I am Lin Xi of Fuqing, a humble student, paying respects to Master Boyi.”

The professor smiled and gestured modestly, “I dare not accept such an honor from the laureate.”

Lin Xi replied, “I have long admired your great reputation, Master Boyi. Thanks to Ziping’s introduction, I have come today to seek your instruction.”

At this, the disciples erupted into murmurs.

Zhang Yue overheard two students whispering:

“So, he’s the top scholar of this year’s exam.”

“I wonder whose literary talent is greater, his or Ziping’s?”

“Ziping was third in the qualifying exam yet topped the canal exam. Outsiders say the canal test is less prestigious than the prefectural exam, which is why the latter’s first place is considered the true laureate. But in my view, the canal exam is actually more difficult; Ziping is surely not inferior to this Lin Xi.”

“I also find his bearing lacking compared to Ziping.”

“How so?”

“Did you see the way the laureate strode in, so full of himself? Ziping, by contrast, is always composed and modest.”

“Indeed, when Ziping topped the canal exam, he never boasted of it. We only learned of it from Brother Jianfu.”

“In terms of breadth of learning, none surpasses Ziping.”

During the Song dynasty, there were qualifying exams at the prefectural and military district level, which most referred to as “the qualifying exam.” In places like Fujian and Zhejiang, these exams were highly competitive, selecting only a handful from thousands of impoverished students. The canal exam, in which Zhang Heng participated, was meant for the sons of official families.

During the reign of Emperor Renzong, the canal exam admitted three out of ten candidates. The civil service exams, proclaimed as ‘talent above all,’ were designed to break the monopoly of the gentry over officialdom and restore the power of appointments to the central government. Yet in reality, the Tang dynasty’s exams still favored the aristocracy, who remained unruly.

Thus, the Song dynasty intentionally sought talent from common families. True fairness was only achieved in the Ministry and Palace exams; local qualifying exams remained beyond reform. The canal exam was set up to group the sons of the elite, preventing them from securing positions through bribery and connections, thereby safeguarding opportunities for the poor.

This imbalance, however, displeased both officials and nobility. After much lobbying by court ministers like Song Qi, the canal exam’s acceptance rate was finally reduced to fifteen per hundred.

So which was harder—the canal exam or the prefectural exam? Scholars debated endlessly. Those who succeeded in the canal exam were indeed outstanding, performing as well as or even better than their prefectural counterparts in the Ministry exam. Yet the canal exam also admitted quite a few who clearly owed their success to connections. The presence of such “bad apples” further tarnished the canal exam’s reputation, leading its graduates to avoid discussing their achievement lest they be suspected of having cheated.

In the end, true talent was proven only in the Ministry exam.

Through this overheard conversation, Zhang Yue realized Zhang Heng was of the latter kind.

Listening to their banter, Zhang Yue formed an impression of Zhang Heng. In the inferior novels he’d read, authors would always introduce new places by having passersby explain the background; he never expected real life to imitate art—truly, life inspires fiction.

“Zhang Third,” someone called. Zhang Yue turned to see it was Scholar-Record Zhang Cai.

“Sit beside me,” Zhang Cai said with a smile, gesturing to the spot.

Delighted, Zhang Yue asked as he prepared to sit, “Should I kneel properly?”

“Indeed.”

Zhang Cai fetched a brocade mat, and Zhang Yue knelt beside him as instructed.

“I heard you had another run-in with the prefect yesterday?” Zhang Cai asked.

Glancing at Zhang Heng at the front, Zhang Yue nodded. “Yes.”

Zhang Cai smiled, “Don’t blame Ziping; he’s the one I admire most, and also the most diligent and hardworking.”

“He burns the lamp every night, reading until midnight, so much so that the top of his mosquito net is blackened with soot. Even after such late nights, he rises before dawn to study.”

“Whether poetry, the classics, or calligraphy, Ziping grasps everything with ease. An ordinary person would become complacent, but he never does, always striving daily.”

Zhang Yue thought this sounded much like what Guo Lin had said of himself.

Zhang Cai continued, “Our county’s tribute exams are renowned, and talented scholars abound, let alone in the whole region. Ziping’s first place in the canal exam is not just natural talent—it’s the fruit of years of unremitting effort.”

Zhang Yue recalled how Zhang Heng had never gotten over losing to his elder brother. “The prefect seems unwilling to accept defeat.”

Zhang Cai laughed, “On the surface, Ziping appears calm and detached, but inwardly he is fiercely competitive. In everything—not just his studies, but even pitch-pot and archery—he strives to excel. As prefect, he manages all the affairs of the hall. Before the canal exam, the professor even asked if he wished to step down and focus on his studies, but he refused. He managed his duties and still studied day and night, ultimately winning first in the canal and third in the qualifying exam. Only exceptional people achieve such feats; even in our clan, a talent like Ziping appears but once in fifty years. We all admire him; if you spend time with him, you’ll understand.”

“But over the years, only your elder brother has matched him. That said, your brother’s diligence is surely no less than Ziping’s, is it?”

Prompted, Zhang Yue searched his memory for stories of Zhang Xu. “I don’t think my brother is quite like the prefect.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not that I mean to boast about my family. Since I can remember, my brother has studied, but not with such intensity. Someone once asked him, and he replied, ‘I approach writing and study with effortless grace.’”

Zhang Cai was momentarily speechless, then said, “In that case, Ziping is perhaps not his equal.”

“Yet in this recent provincial exam, I noticed your brother’s name was missing from the list, which is puzzling.”

Zhang Yue thought to himself, the clerk Zhao is searching heaven and earth for my second brother—should he dare appear at the exam, he’d be caught at once. Then it occurred to him that perhaps his brother truly was a dragon among men, yet in all his previous life’s knowledge, no one in Song history bore his brother’s name. Perhaps, after running from marriage, he faded into obscurity. Or perhaps by now, Zhao the clerk had already disposed of him, but chose not to say so, using it instead as leverage against their family.

Zhang Yue dared not pursue the thought further.

After all, passing the imperial exam at least earned a line in history; without it, no matter one’s talent, one would be forgotten.

Zhang Cai shifted the subject. “The other day, when the administrator requested your family record from me, I realized he suspected your identity. But don’t worry—if the professor lets you audit, it means you’re accepted. Prejudice of birth has persisted for centuries; for them to allow you a place here is enough. A true man should wield his sword and strive for lasting achievement—what do temporary slights or honors matter? Since you are here, make peace with it.”

Zhang Yue replied, “I am truly grateful for your guidance, Scholar-Record.”

Zhang Cai gave a wry smile. “Perhaps it’s sympathy for a fellow sufferer. I too am a concubine’s son, though luckier than you. I lack scholarly brilliance, so I take on responsibilities to earn the clan’s approval.”

“For instance, Ziping would never befriend me; he associates only with men like Lin Xi. In the academy, most recognize my legitimate elder brother; any respect I receive is due to him.”

Their heart-to-heart quickly drew them closer. People like Zhang Heng and his own elder brother were rare; most, like himself and Zhang Cai, could only look up to them from afar.

At best, should they ever attain success, he could boast of once being their classmate.