northernbook Chapter 503 Under Review
Chapter 503 Under Review
As soon as the words were spoken, the students, following the officials' directions, walked in an orderly fashion towards their respective examination areas. Their figures moved in the morning light, like converging streams, eventually flowing into Xianyang City.
Inside the examination hall, a student from the State of Qi carefully spread out his examination paper, picked up his pen, but hesitated to put it down. He looked at the Qin flag fluttering outside the window, then at the topic "On the Great Unification" on the examination paper, took a deep breath, and finally wrote the first word on the paper.
Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating his pen and countless other figures hunched over their desks, writing furiously. In this quiet yet hopeful atmosphere, the grand imperial examination, which would captivate the entire nation, slowly began.
Time flew by, and the seven-day imperial examination finally came to an end. As the last gong sounded, the students in the examination area seemed to have all their strength drained away in an instant. Some collapsed to the ground, staring blankly at the sky; some helped each other to their feet, their steps unsteady as if they were walking on cotton; and others eagerly pulled out their dry rations from their book chests, wolfing them down, tears mixed with crumbs of food streaming down their faces.
Officials pushed wooden carts back and forth to collect the exam papers. The carts were stacked neatly and covered with red silk, as if they were not just pieces of paper filled with writing, but rather the weighty weight of the nation and its people.
Kui Zhuang stood at the entrance of Biyong, watching the students disperse one after another. The white hair at his temples was particularly conspicuous in the setting sun. He had hardly slept for the past seven days, and the dark circles under his eyes were darker than ink. However, when he heard footsteps behind him, he straightened his back.
"Left Prime Minister." Lü Zhi held the list of candidates from the last cartload of exam papers in her hands, her fingertips stiff from holding a pen for days. "Nine thousand seven hundred and twenty-six people, nine thousand six hundred and ninety-eight actually attended. Eight people were absent due to illness, and no one was expelled for cheating."
Kui Zhuang took the list, his rough fingertips tracing the densely packed names, and suddenly smiled: "Good, good." He turned to look outside the examination hall, where many students were gathered, waiting for news. Some were discussing the exam questions loudly, some were checking their answers with each other, and some were bowing to the setting sun, as if reporting their safety to their families far away.
In a tavern in the West Market, the young man from Yan was sharing a table with some newly acquainted friends. Before him sat a bowl of coarse barley wine, which he drank with more gusto than fine nectar: "I wrote, 'A trade market should be established in the northern border, exchanging Qin silk for fine horses from the Hu.' Do you think it's feasible?"
Zhao Guozi, standing next to him, patted him on the shoulder: "You write better than me! My hands were shaking so badly on the last day that I probably couldn't even recognize the characters." The Chu student in the corner suddenly laughed: "Who cares about passing or failing? Being able to write for seven days in Xianyang City is something we can brag about to our neighbors for the rest of our lives."
These words drew laughter from everyone present. The initial awkwardness had faded, replaced by a familiar camaraderie born from having gone through the same ordeal together. A passing tavern owner overheard this and, smiling, added a dish of pickled vegetables: "Gentlemen, you're all doing a great job! Lord Li, who passed the exam last year, is now the magistrate of our county, and he's done a fantastic job repairing the irrigation canals!"
Deep within the examination hall, the scribes had begun their new round of work. They were gathered in a stuffy room, each with two sets of documents in front of them: one the original examination paper of the candidate, and the other a blank paper to be copied. The head scribe, holding a ruler, sternly instructed, "Not a single word can be wrong! Even if the stroke of the pen is off by half a hair, you have to copy it all over again!"
The scribes held their breath, their pens gliding across the paper with a soft rustling sound, transforming the characters, each carrying a local accent, into neat Qin-style clerical script, as if they wanted to use their brush and ink to first unite the hearts of all the students in the world.
Lü Zhi walked past the window of the copying room, heard the sound of writing inside, and silently walked away. There were still many things waiting for her to do. Looking up at the sunset on the horizon, the outline of Xianyang City gradually softened in the twilight. The sounds of people, cars, and vendors on the street mingled together, as if trying to make up for the silence of the past seven days.
Empress Lü, however, was filled with mixed emotions. This seven-day imperial examination was not the end, but the beginning of countless stories. Those scholars who left the examination hall, whether they became officials or returned to their hometowns, ultimately carried the winds of Xianyang and the ink of Qin back to their respective lands. And on the territory of Qin, countless new seeds were waiting for their moment to sprout.
Three days before the results were announced, Xianyang was shrouded in an invisible mist, and even the usually bustling Zhuque Street slowed down. The morning dew lingered on the bluestone slabs for an unusually long time. The vendors selling flatbreads no longer called out their wares, but simply polished their griddles until they shone. When they saw students in blue robes passing by, they would add extra pickled vegetables to their flatbreads and simply say "Take care" as they handed them over.
As Lü Zhi walked towards the examination hall in the morning light, she passed by the South City Inn and caught a glimpse of an old book drying on the windowsill. The pages were curled from being turned so many times, suggesting it had been handled repeatedly the previous night. The door creaked open, and a boy from Qi emerged carrying books, his eyes dark and swollen. Upon seeing her, he hurriedly lowered his head and turned to walk towards the Wei River—where many scholars had gathered for days, some sitting, some standing, all gazing intently at the river. No one spoke; only the rustling of the wind through the reeds seemed to be weaving their unspoken hopes into the water.
The atmosphere inside the examination hall was different from that outside the city, quieter and more solemn. Upon entering, one could hear the rustling sound coming from the copying room. Pushing open the door, a strong scent of ink mixed with candle wax wafted out. Twenty-odd scribes sat hunched over their desks, each with two bamboo slips before them: one the original examination paper of the candidate, and the other a copy. Their fingers were wrapped in strips of cloth, likely from days of holding the brush until the skin was raw. Thick layers of candle wax accumulated on the candlesticks, some solidified into small mountains, others dripping down the rim and forming small, ink-colored puddles on the floor.
"Master Lü." The head clerk looked up, his eyes bloodshot but still sharp as an eagle's. He held up a scroll of copied bamboo slips, his voice hoarse, "Look at this, Zhao Guozi's 'Strategy for River Management.' The original handwriting was messy, but the method is practical—it says to plant elm trees along the Zhang River to reinforce the dikes, which is more detailed than what our waterworks officials have thought of."
Lü Zhi took it and examined it. She saw that the Qin Dynasty official script was neat and meticulously copied, with even a single ink blot used for correction in the original scroll clearly marked. A young scribe next to her was copying the original scroll, his pen hovering in mid-air for a long time. Suddenly, he sighed and put down his pen: "The handwriting of these Chu scholars is too strange, like drawing talismans. I only dared to confirm that it was the four characters 'Xingxiu Shuili' after copying it three times."
The old clerk immediately picked up a ruler and tapped it on his desk: "The Qin law says 'A mistake in copying is a crime!' Do you think this is child's play? Last year, a clerk copied the wrong candidate's place of origin and was directly exiled to Longxi, have you forgotten?" The young clerk hurriedly lowered his head, dipped his brush in ink again, his fingertips trembling, but he dared not slack off in the slightest.
Lü Zhi walked to the innermost examination office, where Wei Zhuang was staring intently at the mountain of examination papers. Seeing her enter, he pointed to one of the papers and smiled, "Look at this one. A scholar from Wei has annotated the Book of Lord Shang more thoroughly than the Imperial Academy, saying, 'Only by emphasizing agriculture and not suppressing commerce can the country become rich and powerful.' That's quite a new idea."
She picked up the scroll and saw a small abacus drawn at the end, which suggested the person was well-versed in mathematics. Suddenly, she remembered that at the supply depot the other day, a scholar from Wei had argued with someone over borrowing counting rods, saying he wanted to calculate the "price difference between grain in Guanzhong and Daliang." At the time, she thought he was just being bookish, but now she realized that he had put his mind to practical matters.
As dusk fell, the lights in the examination hall lit up one by one, like stars fallen to earth. After inspecting the last copying room, Lü Zhi saw the old scribe marking the end of each copied scroll with a vermilion brush. The red seal was so heavy it almost pierced the bamboo. "Thirty years," the old scribe suddenly spoke, "I've been working in the Ministry of Rites since the time of Duke Xiao of Qin, and I've never seen so many scholars from other places." He gazed out the window, "The other day I heard two scholars from Chu say they wanted to bring the weaving techniques of Xianyang back to their hometown so that their mothers and wives could weave cloth as fine as Qin brocade."
Lü Zhi didn't reply, but just looked out the window, where a few torches had been lit, like a string of flowing stars.