8

Chapter 8: Essentials of the Imperial Examination

Throughout the vast North China Plain, Bianliang City had suffered relatively light damage. Under the governance of Magistrate Cheng Zhiyuan, the city had remained peaceful, and the Huang Chao rebel army had largely ignored it, focusing their assaults on the historic cities of Luoyang and Chang’an. Even after capturing Bianliang, they failed to station significant troops there, allowing Cheng Zhiyuan to reclaim the city with ease. This was the reason Duan Mingyu was still able to make a decent living through business.

However, if war were to break out in earnest, whether Duan Mingyu could even survive was a grave question, let alone amass great wealth.

Seeking a powerful patron? Yang Zhaoniang had inadvertently reminded her that the emperor’s name was the greatest banner to rally under. Yet, the emperor was still on his way back to Chang’an, and it was uncertain when he would take notice of this forgotten top scholar.

Duan Mingyu sighed deeply. Meanwhile, Xu Zuoye rubbed his hands together lightly and said with a sly smile, “Hey hey, Sister Zhaoniang, you seem to know a lot about the imperial exams?”

“That sick grin of yours shows you haven’t got a clever idea in your head,” she retorted proudly. “I’ve known about the exams since I was three years old.”

Xu Zuoye wiped the sweat from his brow. Did this girl bear a grudge against him? He hadn’t done anything to offend her, yet she mocked him at every turn. “Damn it, if Duan Mingyu can become the top scholar, why can’t I? Forget it, I won’t stoop to argue with this little pest.” Comforting his bruised ego, he stepped forward with a grin. “So, how do these exams work? Are they difficult?”

“Cough cough, you want to try too?” Duan Mingyu nearly choked. For a roughneck like him, the imperial exams seemed far less feasible than a sow climbing a tree.

Yang Yanguang and Duan Mingyu exchanged suspicious glances. “This guy’s clueless!”

Yang Zhaoniang muttered a curse under her breath but then explained slowly, “The imperial exams are divided into four stages: the county exam, the provincial exam, the metropolitan exam, and the palace exam. For details, you should ask the top scholar standing right beside you.”

Duan Mingyu smiled at Xu Zuoye. “Old Xu, you’ve finally asked the right person. That’s how we all went through it. First is the county exam, overseen by the education officials or local authorities. It’s divided into three levels: county, prefecture, and academy exams. Passing all three lets you study at county, state, and prefecture schools respectively. Completing all three means you’ve finished the county exam stage, and the top scorer is called the ‘Anshou’.”

Xu Zuoye clicked his tongue. “Damn, that’s complicated. Good thing I didn’t bother with this damn imperial exam!”

Duan Mingyu huffed. She’d barely gotten started before he interrupted. “I’m not done yet! Why the interruption?”

Xu Zuoye’s face flushed as if he’d drunk eighteen years’ worth of strong wine.

Seeing him embarrassed, Duan Mingyu felt a surge of satisfaction. “After the county exam comes the provincial exam, held every three years in the provincial capitals during autumn, so it’s called the ‘Autumn Exam.’ The chief examiner is appointed by the emperor. Results are published in three lists: the main list, the secondary list, and the supplementary list. Only those on the main list pass and become ‘Juren’—those who have the preliminary qualifications for officialdom. The top scorer among the Juren is called ‘Jieyuan.’ Next comes the metropolitan exam, held every three years in the capital during spring, hence ‘Spring Exam.’ Only the top three hundred candidates pass, known as ‘Gongshi,’ and the highest scorer is called ‘Huiyuan.’ Finally, there’s the palace exam, the highest level. The emperor personally questions the Gongshi in the Golden Hall to determine final rankings. The top three are awarded first, second, and third place titles: ‘Zhuangyuan,’ also called ‘Dingyuan,’ ‘Bangyan,’ and ‘Tanhua,’ respectively. All those passing the palace exam are ‘Jinshi.’ Passing the county, metropolitan, and palace exams is known as the ‘San Yuan Jidi’—the triple honor.”

Hearing all this complicated detail, Xu Zuoye’s head throbbed and his scalp tingled. He’d thought about having Duan Mingyu write a few fancy essays for him to copy—or rather, borrow—plus a few dozen or hundred ancient poems to ensure fame was unavoidable. Yet, at Duan Mingyu’s explanation, his pale face turned ashen, stretched longer than a horse’s.

Noticing Xu Zuoye’s gloomy expression, Duan Mingyu teased him by patting his shoulder. “Old Xu, what do you think of the imperial exams? Confident enough to try your hand and become a top scholar for fun? We could bask in the glory of the top scholar then!”

“Are you mocking me? This old man would be exhausted just from ten years of study and selection rounds, let alone passing,” Xu Zuoye replied honestly, shooting Duan Mingyu a look that said, “You’re impossible.”

Duan Mingyu despised him silently. “If you’ve got the guts, then try it yourself! You don’t even know how to hold a brush. Do you think becoming a Zhuangyuan is like picking cabbages? Only three hundred scholars nationwide get to see the Golden Hall. I’m the only top scholar here. Ten years of hard study led me here. This is far tougher than the future imperial college exams. It’s all just hype—the emperor’s pure marketing.”

“Not to deceive you, Brother Duan,” Yang Yanguang said knowingly, “though the imperial exams offer a platform for poor scholars, those from humble origins who become officials remain few to none. The court culture is such that to rise, one still needs...,” he gestured meaningfully skyward, implying, “connections at the top.”

Yang Yanguang did not mislead Duan Mingyu. The Tang dynasty’s imperial exams were precisely like this. For a lone figure like Duan Mingyu to become a top scholar was indeed an exceptional rarity.

Duan Mingyu deflated like a burst balloon. “So there’s no hope for officialdom after all!”

If not an official, how could one preserve oneself amid the turmoil of late Tang? This was a question worth deep reflection.

Take the present, for example. Duan Mingyu’s business was constantly under threat. Bianliang City even had protection rackets thriving—Tang dynasty’s underground gangs were shockingly bold! This left Duan Mingyu utterly speechless. The leader of the extortionists bore a laughably childish name—Zhang Baobao, whom Duan Mingyu mockingly dubbed “Baby Zhang.”

Though his name was cute, Zhang Baobao was anything but; his protection fees were exorbitant, almost half a merchant’s profit. It was unbearable, utterly unbearable!

Duan Mingyu wasn’t worried about the fees themselves. Whenever Zhang Baobao came around to collect, Duan Mingyu and Xu Zuoye always fled.

What worried Duan Mingyu was the possibility of being caught. As the saying goes, walking alone at night invites ghosts; one day he might be seized, and the consequences...

A chill ran down her spine. Baby Zhang was fiercely angry, and the aftermath would be severe. To escape this trouble, mere avoidance wouldn’t do; she had to tackle the root — either kill him or seduce him.

The latter was only an option with the opposite sex, so... Duan Mingyu had already slain Zhang Baobao countless times in her mind.