Chapter Eighty-Four: This Person Has Already Gone Mad

Snow in the southern lands presents a unique scene. Though the imperial academy is nestled on Mount Huanghua and a blanket of snow has fallen, the mountain’s yellow and green hues still shine through. Some of the more fragile trees and grasses, now pressed down by the winter snow, will emerge even more vigorous and upright come spring’s warmth and blossom.

That night, the cold was bone-chilling. In a side room to the east of the Ancestral Masters’ Hall, a handful of candle stubs glowed like arms outstretched, illuminating the hall in brilliant light.

Within, more than twenty academy students were diligently studying the classics. This gathering of scholars was at Zhang Yue’s suggestion. The academy generally encouraged each student to study privately in their quarters, but Zhang Yue always felt that solitary study wasn’t ideal. He preferred to bring his book and lamp to this side room to read.

Guo Lin, noticing this habit, joined Zhang Yue, and over time more students began to imitate them. Gradually, a circle of like-minded scholars formed around Zhang Yue, all gathering in the same room to study by night. The group grew, and now numbered over twenty. Witnesses dubbed this assembly “Yue’s Retreat.”

After entering the academy, Zhang Yue had taken several informal tests. At first, he hadn’t exerted himself fully, instead focusing on the unfamiliar Rites Classic and the Three Commentaries on the Spring and Autumn Annals. Now, after more than half a year, he had memorized and internalized all the explanatory notes of these four texts. For anyone else, to master the Rites—the longest of the Nine Classics—and the Three Commentaries within half a year would have been jaw-dropping.

At the sound of the night drum, everyone dispersed from the side room to return to their quarters for sleep. Zhang Yue and Guo Lin left with their books, catching sight of the snowy night and the departing students, their ears filled with the rhythmic beating of the drum.

“Another night well spent. The public exam is near! Senior brother, are you confident?”

After more than half a year’s study, Guo Lin had grown noticeably steadier. “We do our best and leave the rest to fate. For this exam: to pass in one classic, you must answer at least nine questions correctly; for two classics, eight; three, seven; five, six. How many will you attempt, junior brother?”

Zhang Yue asked, “Is it true that this public exam’s results will be reported to the National Academy?”

“That’s right. Previously, outstanding students from the academy could be recommended by the provincial school to take the oral exam at the Nanjing National Academy. The most erudite could even be directly recommended to the Kaifeng National Academy.”

Zhang Yue inquired, “Senior brother, what qualifies as true erudition?”

“There are no strict criteria. Traditionally, the head of the provincial school decides, and the recommendation goes to the prefect, who then submits it to the National Academy. Each province sends at most one, and Nanjing only accepts two.”

Zhang Yue recalled the Three-Tier System from Wang Anshi’s reforms. Wang had divided the Imperial Academy into outer, inner, and upper tiers, with quotas for each. Students advanced through exams from one tier to the next, and those in the upper tier could become officials.

Even after Sima Guang’s rise, the system was not abolished, and under Cai Jing’s chancellorship, it expanded to all provincial and county schools, known as the National Three-Tier System. Cai Jing also introduced the system to local schools, allowing outstanding students from county and provincial institutions to move into the Imperial Academy’s outer tier.

When Wang Anshi first established the system, he claimed it revived the ancient “local recommendation” method of selecting officials. But regardless of reform, one condition remained unchanged: sons of officials below the eighth rank could enter the Imperial Academy without examination, while sons of commoners had to pass exams.

So, what were the benefits of entering the National Academy? Students could take the academy’s internal exams directly, which, in the Song Dynasty, provided a significant advantage.

Kaifeng’s Ministry of Rites admitted about 150 scholars each year, while the National Academy contributed seventy to eighty, with similar proportions for other exams.

Before his journey through time, Zhang Yue often remembered the unfairness of China’s college entrance exam system, especially regional quotas. In the Song Dynasty, nearly two-thirds of the successful candidates were either from Kaifeng or the Imperial Academy.

To put it bluntly, what you strive for your whole life, others are simply born into.

Why such inequity? It stemmed from the Song’s long-standing policy of “strengthening the center and weakening the periphery,” a lesson learned from the chaos of the An Shi Rebellion and the warlordism at the end of the Tang. From the founding emperor onward, it was state doctrine. The emphasis on civil over military affairs was but one facet.

Zhang Yue understood now why the leading families of Zhang and Wu in Pucheng had not remained in their ancestral home but had registered in the capital or even Kaifeng. With his status as a member of the Zhang clan, if he had relied on family connections, even distant relatives would have shielded him from hardship. The descendants of Zhang Dexiang, Wu Yu, Wu Chong, and Wang Anshi mostly stayed in Kaifeng, registering locally to ease their way in the exams.

The benefit was obvious: local elites flocked to the capital to pursue the exams, making it easier for the court to govern the provinces. Compared to the harsh relocations of Qin Shi Huang and Han Wudi, this was a much gentler, more transparent strategy.

From Fan Zhongyan’s reforms establishing provincial schools to Wang Anshi’s Three-Tier System and Cai Jing’s expansion, all carried the imprint of centralization.

Of course, this centralization was a real obstacle for Zhang Yue. Of the 150 provincial exam slots, a poor student like him first had to win the single spot per hundred in the local exams, while officials’ children could compete for one of fifteen per hundred. They then all vied for the provincial slots.

Children of officials could enter the National Academy directly; Zhang Yue needed an exceptional recommendation from his school. Even so, the risk of failure was low, since the academy mainly sought to exclude the unqualified relations of local officials.

Once admitted, there were eighty special places for academy students in each exam cycle. This made a recommendation well worth striving for.

But why would the province recommend you? This was the flaw in the Three-Tier System—when results were similar, the authorities would consider a student’s character, which was arbitrary and subjective.

In the end, whether you succeeded depended on the whims of those in power.

Zhang Yue said to Guo Lin, “I’m a favored student of Master Boyi, and Scholar Hu holds me in high regard.”

Guo Lin replied, “Scholar Hu and Master Boyi are respected in the county, but recommendations to the National Academy are made at the provincial level—their influence might fall short.”

Zhang Yue admitted the point, but he kept other thoughts to himself. His family’s restaurant was thriving, and he had helped the dormitory head compile study guides, earning both profit and favor.

In Song society, money could be converted into influence.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“If I want to be certain of success, I must surpass everyone, leave no room for doubt!”

Guo Lin asked, “So what’s your plan?”

Zhang Yue replied, “Didn’t you say that for one classic you need nine correct answers, two classics eight, three classics seven, five classics six. If I attempt all nine, what’s the passing mark?”

“Usually, five correct answers.”

“And what if I answer them all correctly?”

“All of them?” Guo Lin was stunned. “Even in the provincial exam, passing in six is enough. Besides, the written interpretation required here is just as rigorous as the provincial exam, with strict standards for every word and phrase.”

“And for the public and provincial exams, each classic has ten major questions. I’ve never heard of anyone answering all ten perfectly.”

He continued his reasoning.

Zhang Yue smiled and asked, “What about you? How many will you attempt?”

“Five classics only. Attempting nine is too exhausting, especially with the Analects and Filial Piety Classic, which are no less demanding than any of the others. With those two, it’s really seven, and your nine classics are actually eleven. I doubt anyone else in the academy would attempt what you’re about to do.”

Zhang Yue smiled at Guo Lin’s words. “If I don’t, how will I prove myself?”

With only a handful of slots for Kaifeng and Nanjing National Academies among all of Jianzhou, even being the top student in the county was no guarantee. To win, he had to win decisively, leaving no room for doubt. That’s why he signed up for all nine classics—to silence any dissent.

They say fate is thirty percent, effort seventy; Zhang Yue aimed to push that seventy to a perfect hundred.

Of course, attempting all nine classics was tough for Zhang Yue, but the public exam was no cakewalk for the other students, either. It required at least one major classic—meaning the Rites or the Zuo Commentary. For two, it had to be one major and one mid-level classic, such as the Book of Songs, Zhou Rites, or Ceremonial Rites. If someone wished to show off, they could attempt both major classics.

For three, it had to be one major, one mid, and one minor classic, the latter being the Book of Changes, Book of Documents, Gongyang, or Guliang Commentaries. Again, students could challenge themselves with two major and one minor, or a mix of two mid-level and one major.

For five, two majors were required, the rest could be chosen freely.

Despite the different combinations, the minimum requirements were similar across the board, but the difficulty at the top end was vastly different.

The provincial exam for all nine classics required writing 120 model essays and answering sixty interpretation questions, all on a single exam paper. The county public exam, however, was spread across eleven separate sessions.

The Analects and Filial Piety Classic were both mandatory, the other nine each had their own session. You took as many exams as you signed up for.

Zhang Yue, therefore, would take all eleven sessions!

On the day of registration, he alone among his peers signed up for all nine classics.

The entire academy thought he had gone mad.