Chapter 90 The Precious Status of an Ying Dynasty Official

Chapter 90: The Coveted Title of an Ying Dynasty Official

This clear-headedness wasn't just about ability; it was about adaptability and pragmatism.

When Zhi Miaoyin departed Jiankang, she granted her officials the autonomy to make decisions when necessary. She held all officials to this same high standard.

She mused that even she herself was still learning how to be a good emperor. So how could her officials be mere paper frogs?

"What's a paper frog?" Chu Lingyuan blurted out, unable to contain her curiosity.

Wang Shenai paused, realizing she had accidentally voiced her private thought.

She casually picked up a piece of paper nearby, grateful that papermaking had advanced significantly from the Eastern Han to the late Jin Dynasty. Demonstrating a simple paper-folding trick was no problem at all.

"Like this—"

Wang Shenai pressed down on the "paper frog's" tail, and when she released it, the frog hopped forward.

"Pfft..." Chu Lingyuan's expression shifted before she burst into laughter.

Liu Muzhi massaged his temples, wondering if he should point out that the serious discussion about selecting talent had once again been sidetracked.

Were these two even thirty years old combined?

Oh, it seemed they weren't.

"Your Majesty!"

"But don’t you think this is a perfect analogy? Now, all these frogs are trying to leap into this pond because of the heavenly signs. But what I need are the ones that can catch pests, not paper frogs that know so much about the future yet still need me to make them move!"

She snatched up the paper frog and tossed it onto a nearby candle flame, watching it quickly burn to ash.

From Liu Muzhi’s perspective, the childlike innocence that had once flickered on the emperor’s face was now entirely replaced by absolute coldness.

This was Great Ying’s first true imperial examination for selecting officials—there was no room for error.

This special examination, much like the previous assessment of officials, tested the candidates' resolve. If they lacked the courage to persevere through storms, they might as well give up now!

"Besides, doesn’t this method make grading much easier?"

The more answers a candidate provided in a certain category, the more likely they were to be assigned to that department for evaluation. Simple as that.

"But what if there really is a genius who answers all the questions?" Chu Lingyuan asked, her eyes brimming with curiosity.

Wang Shenai replied solemnly, "If such an all-around expert exists—someone who can answer any question instantly—then I should personally receive them, roll out the red carpet, and treat them as a national treasure."

But under normal circumstances, such a problem shouldn’t arise.

...

"Wait, I’m not done yet!"

When the bell signaling the end of the exam rang, one candidate, sweating profusely, desperately tried to hold onto his paper, only for it to be yanked away without mercy.

Seeing the large blank spaces still left on his sheet, he instinctively reached out to grab it.

But instead of retrieving it, he only succeeded in ripping the paper right in two.

His mind went blank. "No—"

He hadn’t meant to do this!

The examiner’s icy voice came from above him: "Torn papers cannot be processed for grading. This exam is invalid. Escort him out."

The moment the words fell, two guards entered, seized the candidate, and dragged him away.

The guards seemed to have been warned this might happen in advance—one of them even expertly covered the candidate’s mouth to prevent any outcry.

"...!"

The candidate sitting behind him flinched, too stunned to even worry about his own unfinished exam.

After packing up his brushes and ink, he slunk out, ears perked to catch any useful bits of talk, until he finally reunited with his companion outside the examination hall.

"Why did you take so long to come out?" his companion asked.

"I..." He grimaced, glancing back at the strange testing situation before muttering, "Why else? Because I didn’t finish. I listened to others along the way—so many said the same! Does Her Majesty even want to select new officials, or is this whole ‘recruiting talents from across the land’ just for show?"

His companion laughed. "Why try to finish everything? We’re here to become officials, not chancellors! Just answering the parts you’re best at is enough. Who expects anyone to know it all?"

"Exactly!" another scholar jumped in excitedly. "If Her Majesty had tested us on commentaries on classics or ancient texts, I’d say she’d only be selecting literate people, not necessarily capable ones. But look at the questions she actually asked!"

"Figuring out how many workers are needed to transport military rations for an expedition, analyzing the relationship between seed-soaking methods, selecting the best ears of grain, and crop improvement, discussing how to reconstruct Ying’s ritual system—those with ideas had plenty to write about."

"Precisely," his companion agreed with a nod. "Not only was there room to answer, but after finishing what you’re good at, you could even try some questions out of interest. Who knows? A seemingly absurd idea might just be exactly right and score bonus points."

Based on his own assessment, he estimated that no other examinee could have answered significantly more questions than he did. That judgment couldn’t be wrong.

Since this was an examination—one under so many watchful eyes—it couldn’t demand that everyone be know-it-alls. Nor would leaving some blank necessarily mean failure.

With that in mind, he felt much more at ease while answering.

Finally noticing something, he turned to his companion, who had come out after him. "You look a bit pale?"

"Haha," the other man gave a weak laugh. "Let’s just say I couldn’t pin down my strengths."

Originally, he had thought that with his literacy and classical education, he could easily secure a position in the bureaucracy, given how many vacancies there were. Who knew the exam would be like this?

"So what did you end up writing?" the earlier interjector asked curiously.

"I answered all the easy questions. Maybe that counts as... playing it safe?"

"..."

That might not be called "down-to-earth." More like—

...

"Another one who tried to game the system." Xie Daoyun, as the Zhongshu Ling, was responsible for reviewing the unclear categories of the exams—those where candidates had answered a little of everything.

Since these papers didn’t fit neatly into any single department’s grading criteria, they were sent to her first.

These exams were compiled separately, their edges resealed to hide names and origins, leaving only the written responses visible.

Yet Xie Daoyun had no trouble making her judgment based on the content.

A young female attendant nearby asked curiously, "Couldn’t it just be that they only knew the easy answers and had no choice but to do what they could?"

Is this really possible?

These individuals failed to grasp the Emperor's intent and simply wrote down everything they could, hoping to score higher.

Xie Daoyun shook her head. "If that were truly the case, he shouldn’t have been so deliberately vague in some questions. Take this one, for instance—worth five marks. He vaguely stated that due to limited time, he could only briefly address the topic, leaving the rest unfinished. But look at what he wrote—"

"The question asked: If abnormal weather causes frequent temperature fluctuations in a region, what official directives should a local official issue regarding agricultural affairs? And what did he answer? He said the water was too cold and suggested directing farmers to align the inlet and outlet of paddy fields in a straight line to prevent water flow from carrying away too much heat, and vice versa, to stagger their positions. And so on, emphasizing meticulous attention to detail with clear regulations."

Xie Daoyun almost laughed in frustration!

"Is he a farmer or an official? Writing down basic knowledge that’s existed for ages—what’s the point?"

She casually pulled a book from the nearby shelf and handed it to the attendant. "Turn to page sixty-seven."

The attendant flipped through the pages and exclaimed in surprise, "The agricultural manual says exactly the same thing as his answer!"

"Now you understand?"

The attendant's eyes widened in understanding. "He crammed from some books, hoping to guess the questions. Seeing that Emperor Yong'an had just announced the Land Tax Reform, he skimmed through farming texts first. Without considering whether such details should be an official’s primary concern, he applied what he thought was a clever approach! No wonder you called him presumptuous."

An official’s duty is regulation, not fixating on water inlet and outlet placement as if they held the key to saving the world.

Xie Daoyun picked up her brush and marked "Rejected" on the exam paper.

Noticing the lingering confusion on her student’s face, her tone was stern but patient. "You’re wondering—even if his answers missed the mark, he still knows more about the classics than the average person, with such a sharp memory. Perhaps he could be useful elsewhere?"

The attendant nodded.

Xie Daoyun explained, "That’s where you’re wrong. In previous official examinations, only those with improper attitudes were dismissed, while the rest were at least given minor positions. Back then the Emperor's main concern was to keep the court functioning through its initial phase. But now, it’s different."

She said gravely, "Now, being an official of the Ying Dynasty is a coveted position."

Northerners, influenced by the celestial signs, already seek to flee south to the Ying Dynasty—not to mention those already living in the seven southern provinces.

Before reclaiming the north, the Emperor must also rebuild the bureaucratic order and establish a fundamental system for selecting officials.

This way, southern scholars who missed this examination can still settle down temporarily, seeking their own paths rather than remaining clueless or complacent, assuming they’ll surely pass the next test.

Thus, no one should sneak through. Only genuine talents must be chosen, to show the world that Emperor Yong'an’s selection process has its own logic—and those selected will undoubtedly be the most suited to the nation’s needs.

"There are indeed a few who answered with simple, straightforward methods..."

"Then make note of them after grading and see if there are vacancies among local clerks."

They could handle clerical work.

As for those who think themselves clever—they likely wouldn’t be content with such positions. Best to let them reflect further.

...

Day had hardly broken when the sound of gongs and drums erupted outside the inn in Jiankang.

"What's all this noise so early?"

A scholar who had come to Jiankang for the exams rubbed his eyes as he stepped out.

Since finishing the test, he had been uneasy, fearing he’d gone about it wrong. Following ancestral bureaucratic doctrines, he had studied performance evaluations and grading systems extensively, focusing solely on such questions in his answers—a detour, as it turned out.

Others had said they completed their strong sections and filled in other questions where they could, hoping for extra points. But he had written at length on the Ministry of Personnel’s final question, only finishing the last character just before submitting his paper.

What if this sets me back? Who knows when the next exam will even be held?

The thought kept him tossing and turning, unable to sleep, and he only managed to fall asleep much later.

Though dawn hasn’t fully broken yet, it’s only because spring has just begun, and the sun rises late—in truth, the curfew hour has long passed.

Look, the other scholars lodging at this inn have already gone out in small groups, saying they want to scope out the examination hall to see if they might run into a talkative examiner.

Lost in thought, he was jolted back to reality by the clang of gongs and drums.

A procession of officials, decked in red flowers and banging gongs, marched down the distant street toward them, like a New Year’s celebration.

"What… what’s going on here?"

The scholars exchanged confused looks, none the wiser.

But as the lively procession drew nearer, the same wild guess struck them all at once.

"You don’t think—this could be for the top scorer, do you?"

"!!!!"

"That’s entirely possible!"

"Wait, where’s the guy who predicted the highest score?"

"You mean Zhu Ziran? Didn’t he go to the examination hall with a group?"

"Zongwen!" The one who asked, upon getting the answer, immediately rushed to the railing and called out to the scholar nearest the window, "Mind running to the exam hall to fetch them back?"

"Me?" Xu Xianzhi pointed at himself, his eyes still fixed on the approaching procession. Any trace of drowsiness was gone.

"Of course, you!" Someone clapped him on the back. "Hurry up, do us a solid and get them back."

The words were polite, but the tone was anything but.

Xu Xianzhi wasn’t stupid—he caught the condescension loud and clear.

His face hardened instantly. "You call yourself his friend, yet you won’t lift a finger out of loyalty, instead troubling a stranger for no reason. Is this how you’d behave in office—flouting decorum and bossing people around? If this were joyous news, fine, but if it were urgent official business, should I abandon my post just like that?"

The man faltered, even stepping back.

Suddenly, the colorful, celebratory procession came to a halt right below them.

With a sharp clapper sound, all noise momentarily ceased.

The scholar who had "asked" Xu Xianzhi to leave and fetch the others held his breath—but then, to his delight, he spotted familiar figures emerging from the crowd in the distance. They must have heard the commotion and returned early!

No need to send anyone after all.

He glared at Xu Xianzhi with contempt. "Never mind, they’re back."

Xu Xianzhi snorted. "Even better."

The scholars who had gone out now pushed through the onlookers and approached the officers, their eyes bright with anticipation. From the official ranks, a man stepped forward holding an unfurled scroll and called out loudly, "May I ask, who here is Xu Xianzhi Xu Zongwen of Donghai?"

Xu Xianzhi froze on the spot, until the scholars descending the stairs behind him nudged him forward one by one, pushing him toward the messenger.

At last, he managed to speak. "I… I am Xu Xianzhi."

"Congratulations!" The official's face beamed with approval, his words striking Xu Xianzhi like a thunderclap. "By imperial decree, Xu Zongwen of Donghai has been named the top examinee in the Civil Service selection. You are to accompany me to the imperial court for an audience with the emperor!"

Top examinee in the Civil Service selection.

Top examinee in the Civil Service selection!

This title didn't just stun Xu Xianzhi—it left the surrounding scholars stunned, their faces a mix of varying expressions of shock.

What did this mean?

Did each section now have its own top candidate?

"Gentlemen, the names and exam responses of the top candidates from each subject have been posted at the examination hall. You may now enter to review them..."

...

Xu Xianzhi almost thought he was still dreaming.