Chapter 46: The Imperial Examination
I heard this Tanhua is even more handsome!…

The capital was still gripped by the lingering chill of early spring, yet the Forbidden City was already enveloped in an atmosphere of solemnity and tension.

Just after the hour of Yin, when the sky had yet to brighten, over three hundred newly selected Tribute Scholars had gathered outside the Chang’an Left Gate, awaiting the most pivotal moment of their lives.

Jiang Qingshi stood among the crowd. Compared to the lavishly dressed sons of the capital, his simple blue robe seemed somewhat plain. Yet at this moment, standing at the feet of the Son of Heaven, he felt no chill at all. Gazing at the towering palace walls, he recalled his years of arduous study and the step-by-step ascent that had finally brought him to the foot of the imperial city.

Several fellow candidates nearby whispered among themselves, their tones a mix of excitement and apprehension.

“I’ve heard His Majesty places great emphasis on practical governance. I wonder what policy questions will be set…”

“I hope I have some understanding of the topics and won’t be left grasping for words…”

At the beginning of the hour of Chen, the palace gates slowly opened. Officials from the Ministry of Rites, holding name registers, called out the names and guided the Tribute Scholars into the palace. Jiang Qingshi straightened his attire and followed the crowd across the Golden Water Bridge, passing through the Meridian Gate. Suddenly, the view opened up before him—beneath the Dan Chi of the Hall of Celestial Worship, hundreds of examination desks were neatly arranged. On each desk lay a writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, along with a vase of budding red peonies.

The Tribute Scholars were divided on either side of the Dan Chi according to their rankings in the Metropolitan Examination. Jiang Qingshi, who had placed ninth, stood in the front row. He lifted his gaze slightly and saw the double-eaved hip-and-gable roof of the Hall of Celestial Worship shimmering with golden light in the morning sun. The majestic Chiwen ornaments and glazed tiles gleamed brilliantly. This was the land he had striven with every fiber of his being to reach, and now he had finally stepped into the hall of his dreams.

“His Majesty arrives!”

An official from the Court of State Ceremonial announced in a loud voice as Emperor Jingrui arrived in his imperial carriage. All officials and Tribute Scholars knelt in unison, proclaiming, “Long live the Emperor!” As Jiang Qingshi bowed deeply, he caught a glimpse of the emperor’s lean face and piercing eyes. Though only in his early thirties, the emperor already bore the marks of years of diligent governance.

After the ceremony concluded, Chen Yan, the Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet, respectfully placed the examination questions on the yellow table in the center of the hall. Following a series of solemn rituals, the question papers were finally distributed to each candidate. Jiang Qingshi knelt to receive his paper, returned to his desk, and unrolled it to read carefully:

“We, the Emperor, hold that since ancient times, rulers governing the world have always regarded land systems as the foundation and the people’s livelihood as paramount. Yet since the Three Dynasties, the well-field system has been abolished. The rich now own vast, interconnected fields, while the poor lack even a place to stand. The land restrictions of the Han, the equal-field system of the Tang, and the square-field system of the Song—all sought to curb land annexation and relieve the people’s hardships. Yet these laws were never long-lasting, and their effects, though initially apparent, eventually faded. Today, in the capital region, powerful landowners grow increasingly dominant; in the southeastern corners, displaced people multiply. You scholars, well-versed in ancient and modern learning and familiar with contemporary affairs, are to elaborate in detail on methods to regulate land ownership, equalize fields, stabilize the people, and strengthen the foundation. We shall personally review your responses.”

Jiang Qingshi’s heart stirred.

Born into a farming family, he had understood the evils of land annexation since childhood. In Linzhou alone, seventy percent of the fertile land was owned by just three families. Independent farmers went bankrupt one after another, becoming either tenants or drifting into towns and cities. The situation in other parts of Great Liang was likely not much different.

Jiang Qingshi’s maternal grandfather had originally been a Scholar and owned forty acres of land. Later, pressured by powerful local magnates, he was forced to sell the family estate. From then on, the family fell into decline, and his grandfather, consumed by shame and resentment, passed away in depression. It was for this reason that Jiang Qingshi’s mother had married into the Jiang Family as a second wife—a fresh flower stuck in a pile of cow dung, wasting her prime years in the Jiang Family until she ultimately lost her life.

He closed his eyes in contemplation for a moment, mentally reviewing the historical land system reforms one by one. Then he ground ink, moistened his brush, and respectfully began writing on the examination paper: “Your subject responds: The foundation of benevolent governance lies most importantly in nourishing the people; the essence of nourishing the people begins with regulating property…”

Starting from the ideal well-field system, he discussed the merits and flaws of the equal-field system from previous dynasties: “…The equal-field system was not without merit, yet population increases while land does not, times change while laws remain static, ultimately making it unsustainable. This aligns with Changsun Wei’s principle from the former Qi dynasty: ‘Laws prolonged breed abuses; abuses require reform.'”

Shifting his focus, he directly addressed the current dynasty’s situation: “Observing the realm today, in Jiangnan, one in ten owns land while nine in ten work as tenants. Powerful families maintain numerous servants and possess estates spanning counties… Yet the impoverished masses have no land to cultivate, wander homeless, lack adequate clothing and food, and during famine years, many resort to selling their children. Official registries remain chaotic, with rampant fraud through concealed ownership, scattered holdings, and false registrations. Land taxes decrease daily while the people’s burdens grow heavier…”

Writing this, Jiang Qingshi recalled his maternal grandfather’s helpless expression when forced to sell his farmland. Though he hadn’t witnessed it personally, that moment marked the beginning of his mother’s hardships. He proposed three countermeasures: first, comprehensive land surveys to expose hidden lands of powerful landlords, “re-measuring all farmland to eliminate fraud through concealed and scattered holdings”; second, land ownership limits, “following the Yan system by restricting land ownership for officials, with excess confiscated by the state”; third, land reclamation and population resettlement, “recruiting displaced people to cultivate northwestern and southwestern borderlands, with officials providing oxen and seeds for permanent ownership.”

Jiang Qingshi knew empty rhetoric was common. Though Emperor Jingrui had recently ascended the throne, he appeared ambitious for substantial achievements. Writing swiftly, Jiang Qingshi detailed implementation steps: “Land surveys should begin near the capital, supervised by honest and capable officials, first creating fish-scale registers to clarify boundaries and tax bases…” He also anticipated potential resistance: “Powerful families will inevitably obstruct in various ways, thus requiring imperial determination supplemented by strict laws…”

As the sun rose higher, eunuchs served each Tribute Scholar palace pastries and clear water. Jiang Qingshi hastily partook and continued writing fervently. The examination desks were low, requiring kneeling outdoors to answer. Though his legs grew sore and numb, he disregarded the fatigue, his brush flowing like endless streams.

At crucial points, he cited classics while maintaining practicality: “Dong Zhongshu stated: ‘The rich own vast fields while the poor lack space to stand… people become distressed and hopeless, fleeing to mountains and forests, turning into bandits.’ These words remain particularly relevant today. Yet curbing land annexation requires more than restoring ancient systems; we must adapt to current circumstances and proceed gradually…”

As sunset approached, Jiang Qingshi finally completed his final stroke: “…Your humble subject believes land system reform cannot be achieved overnight, yet if not begun today, accumulated flaws will deepen, potentially leading to another Wu Sheng Rebellion. May Your Majesty wisely decide.” He signed: “Your subject Jiang Qingshi respectfully responds.”

After submitting his paper, he followed the crowd out the palace gates. Glancing back at the Forbidden City in twilight, his heart remained tranquil. He had poured all his years of learning and contemplation, along with the hopes of countless impoverished farmers, into that policy response.

Three days later, the palace examination results ceremony commenced.

Before the Hall of Celestial Worship, hundreds of officials gathered.

Jiang Qingshi stood before the hall with Zhuo Zhiming, both wearing official robes and holding their breath silently.

As Court of State Ceremonial officials announced “proclamation of results” and music began, Jiang Qingshi clenched his slightly sweating palms, uncertain of his final ranking.

The Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet, Chen Yan, personally announced the rankings.

“First Rank, First Place: Xie Qinghe!”

It was indeed Xie Qinghe, who had already achieved the top scorer title in the Metropolitan Examination. Jiang Qingshi didn’t know why, but ever since learning Xie Qinghe’s name, he had paid special attention to his appearance. Xie Qinghe possessed refined features, with an air of innate nobility between his brows.

It was said he was the only son of Marquis Xie, a founding hero of the Liang Dynasty and a renowned military commander who only had this one son after turning forty. Everyone assumed Xie Qinghe would follow his father’s path, but due to his frail health since childhood, he couldn’t practice martial arts and thus pursued the literary path instead.

Jiang Qingshi used to have limited perspective, always thinking families like Zhuo Zhiming’s scholarly household were extremely fortunate. Only when he saw Xie Qinghe did he understand what true generational nobility and smooth-sailing fortune meant.

“First Rank, Second Place: Chen Qi!”

Jiang Qingshi had also heard of Chen Qi—he was the nephew of Grand Secretary Chen, having benefited from profound family learning since childhood. His achieving the Bangyan position came as no surprise, and Grand Secretary Chen’s expression showed immense delight.

“First Rank, Third Place: Jiang Qingshi!”

Like thunder crashing beside his ears, Jiang Qingshi felt he was dreaming when he heard his own name.

Only when he stepped forward to kneel in gratitude for the imperial favor and heard the emperor’s encouraging words did he believe this wasn’t a dream.

What? He had actually been personally selected by His Majesty as the Tanhua?

All surrounding noises seemed to vanish at that moment. Gazing at the emperor’s solemn and majestic face, he suddenly realized he had become a member of the imperial court. Becoming the Tanhua meant direct entry into the Hanlin Academy—the dream destination for all scholars! Having started late without the family support other Confucian scholars enjoyed, he had only hoped to advance step by step, never imagining he could reach such heights.

He later learned that Emperor Jingrui particularly appreciated his policy responses, especially the concrete implementation proposals. The emperor had personally annotated in vermilion ink: “These strategies are practical, unlike empty talkers.”

At this moment, Jiang Qingshi felt floating on clouds, utterly overwhelmed by tremendous joy. Who said it was difficult for those of humble origins to achieve greatness? Now, he had finally become that accomplished son through his own efforts.

Standing on the Dan Chi, Jiang Qingshi’s gaze traversed the layered palace walls as if seeing the distant fields.

Guilan and Miao Ge’er still didn’t know this wonderful news. If Miao Ge’er learned of it, that cheeky little fellow would surely preen like a peacock showing off…

Thinking of his son’s antics, Jiang Qingshi smiled inwardly. He could no longer clearly hear what the Grand Secretary was saying afterward, his mind completely occupied with thoughts of his family, eagerly anticipating their early knowledge of this wonderful news.

Outside the Chang’an Left Gate, the golden rankings hung high.

“Xie Qinghe” appeared at the top, followed by “Chen Qi” and “Jiang Qingshi,” all gleaming under the spring sunlight. Commoners gathered to see who this year’s top three scholars were, while groups of children jumped and cheered beneath the announcement.

“The Zhuangyuan! The Zhuangyuan is Young Marquis Xie!”
“Young Marquis Xie is so handsome!”
“They say the Tanhua is even more handsome!”
“Have you heard Tanhua Jiang Qingshi’s story? The one framed by his own brother but proved his innocence! Now he’s risen from a village through his own efforts to become the Tanhua!”
“What a legendary life this man has led!”

“That’s right, even the teahouses in the capital have started telling stories about Jiang the Tanhua!”

“This Third Scholar is said to be exceptionally handsome, a rare beauty among men!”

“Linzhou, this previously unknown place, has gained immense prestige this year!”

“This Zhuo Zhiming who ranked eleventh in the second tier is also from Linzhou. Linzhou has truly made its mark this year!”

The triennial Metropolitan Examination finally concluded, and the newly appointed scholars Jiang Qingshi and Zhuo Zhiming were invited to attend the Qionglin Banquet.

Both had achieved success in the examinations, and even someone as typically composed as Zhuo Zhiming couldn’t hide the joy on his face.

Willow catkins drifted through the air as spring reached its peak. The Honor Banquet for the new scholars was being held at the Ministry of Rites.

Jiang Qingshi wore a dark blue silk robe tied with a plain silver belt at the waist, topped with a black gauze hat adorned with a striking emerald feather at the center front – a special honor bestowed by the court upon the top three scholars. As the Tanhua, his seat was arranged to the left below the imperial dais, sharing a table with the top scholar Xie Qinghe and the Bangyan Chen Qi.

Xie Qinghe appeared to be only seventeen or eighteen years old, his silver-white robe exuding an air of nobility. Though his expression carried an aloof detachment, when he saw Jiang Qingshi take his seat, Xie Qinghe actually gave a slight nod in Jiang Qingshi’s direction.

This took Jiang Qingshi completely by surprise. In the past few days whenever he had seen Xie Qinghe, the top scholar had carried himself like a proud white crane – he never expected this crane would deign to acknowledge him.

Jiang Qingshi nodded back somewhat dumbly. Chen Qi, who had been watching nearby, let out a sudden chuckle and initiated conversation with Jiang Qingshi.

“You must be Brother Jiang Qingshi, I presume?”

“Indeed, that would be me,” Jiang Qingshi quickly responded with a cupped-hand salute. “My courtesy name is Nian Chen. You may call me Nian Chen, Bangyan Chen.”

“Please don’t call me Bangyan,” Chen Qi waved his hand dismissively. “In that case, my courtesy name is Zhizhong. You can call me Zhizhong. I must admit some embarrassment – I’ve heard that Nian Chen is already married, yet you appear to be several years younger than me. So if I may presume, you can address me as your elder brother!”

“I’m twenty-three now,” Jiang Qingshi readily complied. “And how old are you, Brother Zhizhong?”

“I’m twenty-six already.”

Chen Qi laughed heartily. Though his features were ordinary, when he smiled his eyes filled with mirth, which considerably enhanced his appearance.

Author’s note: After bitterness comes sweetness