The Overachieving Little Husband of the Top Scholar’s Household - Chapter 123: The Champion of the Palace Examination
Chapter 123: The Champion of the Palace Examination
When Emperor Yuanhua’s voice fell, no one in the grand hall dared to speak at once.
The Second Prince, Jia Hongyi, was the first to open his mouth. “The palace examination tests matters of national policy. In my view, young scholars are still lacking in experience. The zhuangyuan¹ should be a tribute scholar with deep experience, maturity, and steadiness.”
In this year’s metropolitan and palace examinations, there was no candidate in his faction capable of contending for the zhuangyuan title. However, he knew the Crown Prince and the Prince of Jin were crossing swords, and the candidates they supported were both young talents. Jia Hongyi was only too happy to put a stone in their path.
The Prince of Jin, Jia Honghan, curled his lips in what seemed a casual jest. “The zhuangyuan will naturally be chosen by Father. However, as for the tanhualang², I have my eye on someone. With Huiyuan Du’s looks and bearing, that tanhualang title is his by right.”
When both men finished speaking, Emperor Yuanhua did not offer any opinion. “Crown Prince, what say you?”
Jia Hongyuan seemed to come back to himself and smiled lightly. “This son was just thinking how, if I were one of the tribute scholars outside, I might answer the question Father set. I was momentarily distracted. Not only the zhuangyuan — every one of the three hundred outside the hall is a pillar of the Great Yu. I’d like to read all of their essays in detail.”
Emperor Yuanhua grunted acknowledgment and spoke no further.
A shadow flickered in the eyes of Jia Hongyi and Jia Honghan.
The brief exchange inside the Hall of Reverent Offering³ did not cross the threshold. Outside, most of the three hundred tribute scholars had already begun writing drafts after some thought.
The palace examination lasted an entire day and ended at sunset. One had to compose a rich and polished piece of two to three thousand characters, with time left over for revision and fair copying. None could afford delay.
Du Yunse finished grinding ink, spread a long sheet of draft paper on the desk, and set his brush to the far right-hand side.
“I, your subject, believe—
“The great path to governing the realm and aiding the people lies in the principle of balance, in fostering the spirit of adaptability between extremes. Only thus can all laws be made complete. In the previous dynasty, the chaos of unchecked maritime trade was followed by a closed-seas policy. The accumulated ills were not remedied, and instead new disasters arose.”
Du Yunse wrote the opening paragraph, encompassing the whole argument, in one breath, then paused slightly.
The essay Emperor Yuanhua set for this year’s palace examination was: On the Advantages and Disadvantages of the Previous Dynasty’s Unrestricted Maritime Trade and Subsequent Prohibition.
It was, as all well-informed people had expected, related to seaports and foreign trade.
When answering in the palace examination, one had to gauge the Emperor’s thoughts. Since Yuanhua intended to open a new seaport, it was certainly impossible to say that banning foreign trade was beneficial.
Yet one could not simply praise unrestricted trade without moderation. The fact that the Emperor set this question showed that he still had doubts — unrestrained maritime trade was not without faults, otherwise the previous dynasty would not have swung from wide opening to total prohibition.
The key to the question lay in identifying the specific failings of the open-trade policy in the previous dynasty, analyzing their root causes, and proposing detailed and practical solutions.
Sea trade must be opened, but one must not repeat the mistakes of the past — hence, the Emperor’s true attitude was to solicit his ministers’ ideas.
Du Yunse’s guiding principle was the Doctrine of the Mean⁴.
*“The sage said: Centrality is the great foundation of the realm; harmony is the universal path. When centrality and harmony are perfected, Heaven and Earth are in their proper places, and all things flourish.”*⁵
Quoting the words of the sages lent weight to his own argument: centrality and harmony were the great way of the world. Only by keeping to the mean and avoiding extremes could all things in the world grow and thrive.
Sea trade was not inherently wrong. Why had the previous dynasty suffered so from it? Because they took extremes.
At first, they only thought to open without restraint, trading goods for various rare treasures, gaining the praise of foreign kingdoms, yet never setting necessary limits. When the accumulated ills became unmanageable, they lurched to the other extreme and entirely forbade trade — which not only failed to solve the original problems, but created new ones.
Du Yunse’s brush moved without pause, drafting several pages — first analyzing the concrete problems in the former dynasty’s open-trade policies, then explaining what new problems would follow from a total prohibition.
These were points he had mulled over in recent days. He even worked in, in veiled and pruned form, some of what Huanian had once said, thus broadening the scope of his answer.
Every portion was supported by classical citations, and the prose was elegant and refined; even without reading for content, it was a fine piece of writing.
When his full analysis was done, Du Yunse exhaled slowly. The pool of ink in the inkstone had nearly run dry. He put down the brush and ground a fresh supply.
Picking it up again, he began the section outlining specific strategies — the very heart of the paper.
Of course, the essay had to flow as one whole; without thorough analysis beforehand, strategies would be superficial and impracticable.
“The profit of sea trade lies in its fundamentals; the dangers of sea trade lie in its lack of restraints… This subject has six measures to achieve the former and avoid the latter.”
Du Yunse began to write and explain his six policies.
First, to set definite regulations for tribute and imperial gifts. Foreign states should not be able to present a bit of fragrant wood or a few spices, offer some beauties or strongmen, bribe officials of the Court of State Ceremonial to speak well of them, and thereby have the court waive taxes and let them carry home vast stores of silver, gold, and jewels.
Second, to establish firm trade restrictions: items such as tea, iron, and salt were not to be sold beyond set amounts, no matter the price or the pearls offered in exchange.
Third, such large-scale trade regulation and special taxation, if left jointly to the Court of Ceremonies and the Ministry of Revenue, would inevitably lead to buck-passing, uneven division of work, and disharmony. Better to set up a separate yamen⁶, perhaps even a unified administrative district for it.
…
As he worked, Du Yunse translated his thoughts into the language fit for a palace examination paper to be read by the Son of Heaven.
By long association and deepening exchanges with Huanian, his habits of thought and phrasing at the subconscious level had been subtly influenced. Many terms that had once seemed strange now did not.
But that lack of strangeness existed only between the two of them; nothing overt could appear in a paper to be presented to the Emperor.
The early spring sunlight was mild, driving away the lingering chill.
As the sun slanted west, Du Yunse finished his draft. On his right, Xie Tanguang was also completing his.
Hearing the rustle of the other’s papers, Du Yunse paid no mind, instead rereading his own draft, polishing wording, adding a few parallel sentences and similes, making the essay more integrated and rhythmically sound.
At three-quarters through the Shen hour (about 4:45 p.m.), satisfied that nothing more could be added or removed, he began the fair copy.
The “臣” (your subject) was written in small characters; “陛下” (Your Majesty) and “君王” (The Sovereign) were large and flush to the margin; the standard neat, small characters of the Hanlin Academy style flowed smoothly across the fine white tribute paper, as calm and steady as their writer.
During the exam, Emperor Yuanhua took a meal, then descended among the three hundred outside the hall.
Many froze their pens at the sight of his bright yellow hem, afraid of shaking and ruining their work.
The Emperor shook his head inwardly and passed through, pausing longest at the desks of the top scorers in the metropolitan exam, Du Yunse and Xie Tanguang.
Both lived up to their reputations, unaffected by his presence.
By three-quarters of the You hour (about 5:45 p.m.), the sun was low, the light turning golden-red — it was almost sunset, and time to end the examination.
All three hundred finished on time; the quality of their answers would be revealed at the “proclamation ceremony” two days hence.
Marking for the palace examination was swift. By dusk, the papers were collected, and that same evening, several grand secretaries and Hanlin proofreaders hand-picked by the Emperor entered the palace to read through the night.
Each reviewed all three hundred papers; any considered good were marked with a circle.
By the next evening, their work had to be done. The ten most-circled papers were handed to the Emperor, who personally chose the three of the first class (yi jia) and the top of the second class. The rest were divided between the second and third classes.
By the following morning, all rankings were fixed, the name slips removed, and the Golden List was posted. The new graduates’ greatest ceremony — the proclamation — then began.
In the glow of sunset, Du Yunse followed the whipcrack’s signal to lay down his brush. The three hundred first bowed as one to send the Emperor on his way, then quietly awaited the Ministry officials to collect the anonymized papers.
By the time all formalities were done and the candidates were permitted to leave, many could hardly stand; their stomachs burned, and it took will to preserve dignity within the imperial precincts.
Du Yunse chewed a few more sorghum candies. Beside him, Xie Tanguang noticed, glanced at him, and received an unruffled return gaze.
His eyes dropped briefly to Du Yunse’s special waist-pouch, then he shook his head without a word.
In silence, the three hundred retraced their path, from the Right Side Gate of Wu Gate, along the central way past Duan Gate and Chengtian Gate’s side gates, until they emerged onto Chang’an Street outside.
Chang’an Street once ran the width of the capital, but the designers of the imperial city had built two great wall gates in front of Chengtian Gate, cutting it into East and West Chang’an Streets.
Stepping out the East Chang’an Gate, Du Yunse finally left the severe confines of the imperial city and heard again the bustle of the city.
No one dared crowd the edge of the imperial city, so Bai Quan had waited by the gate. Seeing Du Yunse emerge, he hurried to fetch the carriage, and took him and Wang Yinzhi home.
Huanian, restless all day, had been pacing by the residence gate an hour early.
When the carriage arrived, he rushed up, took Du Yunse’s hand, and drew him inside.
“Come, come — to celebrate finishing the last of the imperial exams, I’ve had the kitchen prepare a feast. Forget everything else — eat your fill, then sleep soundly.”
Indeed — from the county, prefectural, and qualifying exams, to the provincial, metropolitan, and palace exams — the full six-tier path of the imperial system, he had now completed them all.
Holding Huanian’s warm hand, Du Yunse felt, as if splashed by a bucket of pure spring water, the fog of the palace exam lift, and returned again to the mortal world he loved.
That night, they sipped a little wine together, then, after washing, he fell fast asleep with his beloved in his arms.
He slept deeply. Huanian wriggled up a little, drew Du Yunse’s head into his embrace, pressed his face to the crown, and, like a fox guarding its den, rubbed happily before dozing off again.
At dawn, his inner clock woke Du Yunse on time.
Surprised by their sleeping posture, he was about to rise when Huanian’s arm tugged at his neck.
“No getting up early. Sleep in with me,” Huanian muttered.
Chuckling, Du Yunse could only keep still, holding him around the waist, listening to his heartbeat so close, and share a rare morning doze.
With a day between the palace exam and the proclamation, many wondered how the huiyuan had fared, but Du Yunse stayed in, receiving no callers.
The days were unseasonably fine; in the inner courtyard, magnolia trees bloomed purple and white in great beauty.
On a whim, Huanian decided to have magnolia blossoms fried. Forbidding the servants’ help, he directed Du Yunse to pick them.
Standing on a little stool, Du Yunse plucked blossoms while Huanian lounged in a chair under the eaves, rocking and giving spurious instructions.
In no time, they had a basket of palm-sized blooms.
In the kitchen, Huanian mixed flour with sugar and egg into a batter, dipped in the petals, fried them for a few seconds, and, before their fragrance could fade, took them out — the fresh scent of magnolia blending with a thin, crisp crust for a strange and delightful taste.
As flowers could not fill the belly, after feeding themselves a dozen pieces, they tidied up and made a proper meal.
Back in the main room of the inner court, they finally spoke of the palace examination topic.
The Emperor’s choice to ask about maritime policy showed he was no advocate of closing the realm — which made Huanian sincerely relieved.
Du Yunse’s analysis had been thorough, his strategies well-fitted to the state’s conditions; even on the shoulders of modern knowledge, Huanian could think of nothing better.
“My palace exam paper has a share of Hua’s work in it,” Du Yunse said.
Huanian shook his head with a smile. “What I said was from your hearing; the ability to analyze root causes, fit it to reality, and weave it into the answer — that’s yours. Besides, between us, there’s no dividing ‘yours’ and ‘mine’.”
“When will the Haijin Town port open?” Huanian asked.
“If His Majesty adopts my strategy, it should take another year or two to prepare,” Du Yunse replied.
Huanian nodded. It was good for such a major policy to be thoroughly prepared; he could use the time to lay groundwork and try to catch the first wave of profits.
“I’d thought to keep part of that sixty-mu⁷ farm far from the city for crops and part for factory workshops. Now I think perhaps the whole should be for workshops.”
“Hua Ge’er can arrange it as he wishes,” Du Yunse said easily.
Stretching with a yawn, Huanian added, “After the proclamation, we should return to Xiangping Prefecture. Before we leave, let’s go to the farm to arrange things. We’ve been away too long — I miss Jiujiu, Chunsheng, Yuncheng, Yuanling, and Xinbai…”
…
On the 20th of the third month, in the 23rd year of Yuanhua, early spring, the flowers were in full bloom.
At first light, all civil and military officials, in court robes, formed ranks in front of the Hall of Reverent Offering to await the once-every-three-years proclamation ceremony.
The new graduates first went to the Imperial Academy (Guozijian) to receive their robes, then arrayed themselves facing north between the two lines of ministers in front of the hall.
All three hundred wore deep-blue robes with black-edged round collars, the white lapels of the inner garment showing at the neck, wide sleeves open, leather belts with blue sashes, black gauze caps with hanging ties, each holding a locust-wood tablet. They looked every inch young men of promise.
To stand here, in full dress, in the Forbidden City with their names to be proclaimed aloud, was the pinnacle of an ancient scholar’s dream.
At three-quarters past the Chen hour (about 7:45 a.m.), solemn music sounded. The Son of Heaven, in court dress with full guards of honor, ascended the dais, flanked by dukes, marquises, and princes.
Shortly, the official proclaiming the results began to read out the new graduates’ names. The top three — zhuangyuan, bangyan⁸, tanhualang — were each read three times, with grand music. The second and third class graduates’ names were read once each.
The top three, when named, stepped forward to kneel in thanks. The others knelt in place.
When all names were read, the throng bowed three times and knocked their heads thrice to send the Emperor back. Then Ministry officials led the top three through Wu Gate’s center gates, down the imperial way, to post the Yellow List at East Chang’an Gate.
Thereafter, the officials escorted the zhuangyuan home under a ceremonial parasol — the famed “parading of the champion.”
Standing at the head of the new graduates’ ranks, Du Yunse’s posture was upright, eyes lowered slightly, calm and unruffled.
His palace paper had been his utmost effort; since Xie Tanguang had the Prince of Jin’s backing, he would also have been well-prepared. Which man would be named zhuangyuan would depend on whose strategy the Emperor favored.
If he could not return with the champion’s escort, Hua would surely be disappointed…
Lost in this thought for a moment, he heard the music cease; the proclamation official, holding the Yellow List, stood before the hall.
The air seemed to congeal; the new graduates all held their breath.
Du Yunse heard the measured, resonant voice:
“In the twenty-third year of Yuanhua, the first place of the palace examination’s first class—
“From Liaozhou, Xiangping Prefecture: Du Yunse.
“Literary talent unsurpassed, appointed Champion, granted the degree of Presented Scholar.”⁹
Quietly, Du Yunse exhaled, stepped forward, and knelt.
He heard his name sung three times, each followed by music echoing through the imperial city.
The sound seemed to pierce time: he saw his father walking behind a cart, step by step sending him off to study far away; saw his mother at his father’s funeral, threatening her own life to compel him to continue his studies; saw himself at ten years old, traveling across rivers and mountains, growing year by year.
He saw joys and sorrows alike, and at last, at the journey’s end, saw his parents side by side, waving to him — and, turning, saw Huanian standing with smiling eyes, waiting there a long time.
“…
“Your subject Du Yunse thanks His Majesty for this grace.”
The cold stone before the Hall of Reverent Offering burned beneath his forehead as it touched the ground.
The proclamation’s sound rolled down the long street; the scholar’s decade in the cold window now without regret.
Second Volume – Three Consecutive Firsts (End)
Footnotes:
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- Zhuangyuan (狀元) – The title given to the scholar ranked first in the palace exam, pinnacle of academic honor.
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- Tanhualang (探花郎) – The third place in the palace exam.
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- Hall of Reverent Offering (奉天殿) – The main audience hall within the Forbidden City where major ceremonies took place.
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- Doctrine of the Mean (中庸) – A Confucian classic stressing moderation and harmony.
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- Quotation from Doctrine of the Mean, ch. 1.
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- Yamen – An administrative office or tribunal in imperial China.
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- Mu (畝) – A unit of land area, roughly 1/15 of a hectare.
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- Bangyan (榜眼) – The scholar who placed second in the palace exam.
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- Presented Scholar (進士及第) – The formal degree granted to successful palace exam candidates.
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