Chapter 391 Worthy of Worship by the People, Enshrined in Temples

Chapter 391: Worthy of the People's Incense, Enshrined in the Halls of Worship

Meng Wan looked suspiciously at the group of scholars before him, at least a dozen of them. "Weren't some of you just talking about Fang Rushan? Who is Fang Rushan? Is it this dirty old beggar?"

He pretended to retch as he spoke, waving his handkerchief in the air as if to fan away a foul stench.

Just moments ago, Jiang Yan and his group had been the ones disdainfully rejecting the old beggar. Now, seeing Meng Wan's theatrics, their faces turned even worse than the old man beside the beggar. Jiang Yan in particular was overwhelmed with complex emotions, shame taking the foremost place, his hand clutching the thin paper trembling slightly.

"Fang Rushan? We never said anything about him. You must have misheard, sir," the examinee who had first recognized the official seal snapped back to his senses. Fang Rushan was a man with a criminal record; even if he'd survived by luck, he was still a disgraced official who'd be executed if caught. They had been too young back then to help Lord Fang, but they certainly couldn't be the ones to harm him now.

"Sir, please just let them go. They're both quite old and look pitiful enough."

"I implore you, sir, to be merciful and not trouble these beggars."

Meng Wan raised an eyebrow at their flushed faces as they pleaded with him, feeling completely satisfied. When others suffered, he was content.

Especially that Jiang Yan who had been the most vocal earlier—he must be kicking himself by now.

With a soft creak, a guard poked his head out from inside the gate. Having listened to the commotion for quite a while, he now said with a show of authority, "No gathering is permitted at the government office gates. Be on your way at once."

To be fair, having just witnessed the possibility that Lord Fang Rushan had become a simple-minded beggar, many of the examinees were overwhelmed with mixed emotions, nearly forgetting the purpose of their visit.

Half their hearts were with the old beggar and his servant, while the other half was focused on dealing with the Ministry of Rites clerks. On the surface, they prided themselves as literati who wouldn't stoop to fighting with two gē'ers like Meng Wan and Chi Yu, but in truth, they were so anxious they nearly knelt to beg Meng Wan to let the two beggars go.

Having toyed with them enough, and hearing numerous footsteps coming from the Ministry of Rites courtyard—likely the officials leaving the banquet—Meng Wan magnanimously declared, "Fine, count it as my bad luck. Chi Yu, don't touch those two beggars anymore. They're dirty and stinky. Help me back to the carriage so I can go home and change."

As he spoke, he tutted impatiently. Whether looking at the two beggars or the scholars, mockery was evident in his eyes. After he left, the examinees could still hear his voice, deliberately loud.

"What people. They call themselves scholars, yet they're so two-faced. What's with the righteous act? Weren't they just cursing at that old beggar with disgust? Ha! They deserve to never pass the exams their whole lives..."

The voice faded into the distance, yet it stabbed the examinees' hearts like needles. The thin paper in Jiang Yan's hand was about to be crushed. Meng Wan's words had hit like a loud slap across his face—and across the faces of all the examinees who had shown contempt toward the old beggar.

Someone wanted to chase after and argue, but feared getting the old beggar involved. Besides, they had indeed... If only they'd known it was Lord Fang, they'd never have acted that way.

The examinees were overcome with shame and indignation. Jiang Yan tore off his own money pouch and handed it to the old man supporting the beggar. The old man, absent-minded, dared not accept it, retreating and declining repeatedly. "What are you doing? This is already more than enough money."

Seeing this, the other Suzhou examinees also took off their pouches and handed them to the old man. "Go quickly. Find a small town in the countryside to settle your remaining years, farther from the capital."

"Who said anything about staying far from the capital? Aren't you the ones who failed the palace exam? What are you still doing here?"

The more you fear something, the more it happens. Jiang Yan and the others' hearts sank as they realized the gates of the Ministry of Rites had fully opened at some point. Inside was a vast, endless crowd—the examiners and new jinshi who had attended the Qionglin Banquet, over a hundred in total.

At the front was the minister sent by the emperor to attend the banquet, a dashing general—none other than Marquis Zhongyi, Qin Xiaozhong, who had remained in Shengjing. Beside him were the four chief examiners of this examination, and the one who had just spoken was Lord Ran, the leader.

Qin Xiaozhong was just there to represent the emperor and go through the motions. These were all civil officials' matters, and it wasn't his place to get involved. But before leaving, he left a parting remark: "These scholars seem to have mentioned Fang Rushan."

As a martial artist with keen hearing, he had already heard several remarks while walking over.

"Fang Rushan?"

Song Tingzhou's sharp gaze swept over every examinee present. That gaze seemed able to pierce through people's hearts, making the already guilty examinees not even dare to breathe. His gaze finally fixed on the two beggars. "Who are you two?"

The assembled officials had refined temperaments mixed with the oppressive authority of long-standing officialdom. Especially Song Tingzhou, with his superior height and cold, sharp features, had the most imposing presence. Jiang Yan only felt his throat tighten and fine beads of sweat seep from his forehead. The other examinees also turned pale, looking at each other, none daring to speak first—fearing that one wrong word would earn them the charge of "conspiring with a criminal official," which would truly be an irreversible disaster.

The old man shielded the beggar behind him and proactively stammered a reply, "Y-your... your excellency... we are beggars from the north of the city. We heard... there were many wealthy people here... so we came to beg."

The Ministry of Rites was located on the east side of Qianbu Corridor, south of the Ministry of Revenue. Though the Five Courts and Six Ministries lined both sides of the corridor, the outer streets had many shops—a bustling place where officials and commoners mingled. From a distance, Song Tingzhou saw his family's carriage parked in front of an antique shop. A gē'er with a clear, graceful, and supple figure stepped out of the shop and instinctively looked up, meeting Song Tingzhou's eyes.

Meng Wan smiled slightly, using his newly purchased ivory folding fan to point at the carriage, indicating he would wait for him there.

Song Tingzhou's cold gaze softened for a moment. He gave a slight nod, barely perceptible—whether Meng Wan saw it or not was unclear. Song Tingzhou watched until he entered the carriage, then withdrew his gaze and said flatly to the beggars, "In that case, be on your way quickly."

The old man was startled but dared not ask questions. He hastily dragged the beggar away from the scene.

The remaining examinees, including Jiang Yan, breathed a silent sigh of relief that Song Tingzhou hadn't pressed further about Fang Rushan, even as they found themselves caught between continuing their protest and retreating.

Gathering a crowd to make a scene requires momentum—a single surge of energy to sustain it. If that momentum falters midway, the crowd's spirit disperses and cannot be easily rallied.

Jiang Yan and his group found themselves in exactly this awkward position—half their steam lost. Yet having stood here all day in the wind and sun, it seemed a waste to leave without getting answers.

Jiang Yan took a slow, deep breath to steady himself, then raised his clasped hands to the assembled examiners. "This student is Jiang Yan of Jinghuan Academy in Suzhou Prefecture, also the huìyuán of this examination session. Having unexpectedly failed the palace examination, I heard it was because my policy essay failed to please His Majesty. I have come to ask you, honored examiners, for clarification."

Perhaps the matter of Fang Rushan had dealt too great a blow to the Suzhou scholars, for his tone was considerably more temperate than when he had first arrived.

But just because he had stopped his aggressive stance didn't mean the other southern scholars were willing to swallow their pride.

"We students have heard that a high-ranking court official advocated for the Equal Field Edict, and that this person was also among the chief examiners, thereby influencing His Majesty's decision to dismiss us." The speaker was the second-place candidate in the metropolitan examination—a shoo-in for the first tier, at worst top ten of the second tier. As he spoke, his eyes fixed on Song Tingzhou, practically accusing him to his face of being a treacherous minister.

Lord Ran's expression showed regret. This second-place candidate's essay had been clearly structured and well-argued—he had seemed a promising talent. Who would have thought he'd be so lacking in composure, spouting reckless accusations against a chief examiner in full public view?

Song Tingzhou's expression remained unchanged. "The imperial examination selects talent under His Majesty's personal authority—essays determine merit, virtue determines retention."

He looked calmly at the speaking examinee. "Second place in the metropolitan examination, Cheng Wanli of Yangzhou Prefecture. I have read your essay—'On the Equal Field Edict: Examining Benefits and Harms.' Though your intent was to aid the poor and curb land annexation, land surveying is arduous, land distribution disturbs the people, and tax and corvée systems become chaotic—unnecessarily destabilizing the state's foundations. Would it not be better to purify official governance and lighten taxes and corvée to pacify the people?"

Cheng Wanli's face showed pride. "Indeed, this student wrote it. Might I ask what your excellency thinks of it?"

As Lord Ran had judged, Cheng Wanli's essay was actually well-crafted—rich in classical citations, every word a gem.

But after asking that question, he witnessed the hint of mockery that flickered in Song Tingzhou's eyes. Shame and fury overwhelmed him, and he blurted recklessly, "Since my humble work fails to meet your excellency's standards, perhaps your excellency would care to share his own insights!"

For such insolence toward an imperial official, one of the Ministry of Justice officers moved forward to rebuke him, but Song Tingzhou held up a hand to stop him. The golden pheasant embroidered on his official robe gleamed with brilliant colors, symbolizing literary excellence and dignity—yet elegance had never been the same as practical competence, and being an official was never just about writing good essays.

"Which is harder—surveying land, or a commoner struggling to put food on the table? Which is more troubling—land distribution, or tenant farmers suffering under rent collection? Your writing is clear and reasoned, seemingly well-supported—but have you ever personally walked the fields and experienced the hardships of hired laborers?"

If I don't spell it out for you plainly, will you never understand?

"I... I..." Cheng Wanli felt a rush of heat flood his face, his cheeks burning crimson as he was rendered speechless by the questioning.

Song Tingzhou could have simply ignored these examinees and walked away—no one would have dared stop him. But he stood with a back as straight as a pine, his dark gaze sweeping over the dismissed candidates. Even without deliberately exerting pressure, he carried an imposing presence that made the examinees instinctively snap to attention and listen intently.

"This official comes from rural origins. I have never heard of a village with wasteland left uncultivated—if there's a lazy man who would rather starve than farm, there will always be others who want to till the soil. Furthermore, tenant farmers are ordinary citizens, not lowly beings. They should not be exploited layer upon layer by country gentry and landlords, struggling their entire lives just to survive. Land is the lifeblood of the people—who in this world can live without grain? What you need to understand is how to solve these problems, not take shortcuts and believe that keeping things unchanged is best. There are too many jinshi who can write well; what His Majesty needs now are people willing to get their hands dirty and do real work. Do you understand now why you failed?"

Cheng Wanli and the others wanted to argue that they had done nothing wrong, but they didn't know how to refute him. A voice deep inside pulled at them, telling them that what Lord Song said was right.

Lord Ran sighed after Song Tingzhou finished. "A minister's duty is to harmonize yin and yang—to serve the emperor above and comfort the people below. Only then can one truly be called an official. You should ask yourselves: are you seeking merely to pass the examinations and bring glory to your families, or do you intend to step into the fray and work for the welfare of the people?"

Silence fell over the crowd. These were all passionate young men, and after being questioned and guided by two high officials in succession, the confusion and resentment in their hearts began to disperse like morning mist, gradually clearing.

Yes—after more than a decade of arduous study, what was it they truly sought? Was it merely the glory of seeing all of Chang'an's flowers in a single day? Or was it to raise their voices in the court on behalf of the common people, to accomplish real things?

The shame and embarrassment of moments ago slowly settled into something heavier—a profound self-reflection. They looked down at the golden cloud patterns embroidered on their silk boots, their proud brows tinged with unease as they recalled the grand but hollow arguments they had written in their policy essays.

Song Tingzhou saw the shift in their expressions and knew they had been moved. He said no more, turning to nod slightly at Lord Ran and the others. "Gentlemen, it's getting late. We should return to our residences."

As the officials took their leave one by one, Song Tingzhou paused briefly as he passed behind Jiang Yan and the others, without turning back, leaving only a low but clear statement: "If you are truly devoted to learning, what fear is there in starting anew? If your heart is with the people, there is no place where you cannot establish yourself. Come back in three years and answer my question then."

The Qionglin Banquet was also called the Enrong Banquet. The first to leave were naturally the examiners, followed by the newly minted jinshi—also a considerable number. The crowd before the Ministry of Rites was so large that it took a while to disperse.

Meng Wan sat in the carriage playing with his fan. Hearing Chi Yu outside say "My lord," he knew Song Tingzhou had returned. The carriage curtain was lifted from outside, and Song Tingzhou entered wearing his crimson robe. Before even settling in, he removed his black gauze cap.

"All done dealing with the failed examinees?" Meng Wan set down his folding fan, took his own black gauze cap into his arms, and fiddled with the jade beads on it.

Song Tingzhou sat down beside Meng Wan, his left arm resting behind him, half-encircling him, "Young and hot-blooded, not yet corrupted by the cold and hypocritical ways of the great clans—they can still be shaped. Lord Ran has already taken a liking to Jiang Yan, the top candidate from Suzhou, and is very likely to take him under his wing."

"Ha." Meng Wan said with a smirk, "Why's Lord Ran trying to take in every guy he sees? Is it because Jiang Yan is handsome?"

At this, Song Tingzhou's relaxed expression immediately scrunched up. "Handsome?"

He's just a little pale, weak as a twig, and shorter than Wan'er.

A faint sourness seemed to drift through the air, and Meng Wan's inner alarm went off. He smoothly changed the subject, "I heard Lu Su passed as a Second-Class Jinshi. Did he talk to you one-on-one at the Qionglin Banquet?"

Song Tingzhou gave his nose a cold pinch, "Just two sentences. Tomorrow, he and the other Lingnan scholars will come to pay a visit."

Of Lu Su's group of three, two passed, and both landed in the Second Class. If it weren't for all those southern scholars getting dismissed, they'd have at best earned the rank of Associate Jinshi. They'd kept their distance before the exam to avoid any suspicion, but now that it was over, it was proper to visit. Besides them, both the successful and failed candidates had agreed to visit Song Tingzhou together.

"Then when we get home, I'll have Gui Cheng instruct the gatekeeper that if they arrive tomorrow morning, they needn't wait—just let them in directly."

Chi Yu drove the carriage two more streets and reined in the horses before a hidden alley. "Husband, Estate Head Fang is waiting here."

The old man who had left with the old beggar approached the carriage, while the beggar sat in the alley clutching his bowl.

Estate Head Fang's whole demeanor changed—his weathered face showed a mix of excitement and emotion, tears welling in his eyes, his voice choked with sobs, "Husband, so our master is truly still remembered. He didn't die in vain. Did he die... for nothing?"

Fang Rushan had died long ago, on the road to the capital. How could Suzhou's gentry ever let him get interrogated by the Three Judicial Offices? How could the Suzhou Prefectural Administration Commission give him a chance to defend himself? Never underestimate how these local bigwigs ruled the roost—they'd even dare to mess with imperial censors sent by the emperor. Wang Zan, who'd been sent all the way to Changping, was a perfect example.

The emperor had given Meng Wan two imperial estates, one of which Meng Wan had thrown in as part of A Xun's dowry. Estate Head Fang ran that estate. He was an old man Chu Ci and the others had rescued on their way back from Lingnan to the capital. With no way to repay them, he just said he'd once been a steward for some High Official, so A Xun put him in charge of the estate.

Meng Wan didn't trust someone with no background, so he personally grilled him—and that's when he got some answers.

As for the beggar, he was simply someone Gui Qian had found at random.

Meng Wan shot back at the old man who couldn't forget his old master, "Why wouldn't it be? Twenty years from now, people will still remember his name, refusing to believe the crap the traitors smeared on him. And every poor commoner in Suzhou will never forget that the land they farm was ripped from the great clans by Lord Fang himself—for them!"

Even Song Tingzhou's face darkened, "Lord Fang will be cleared of all this in time. He was a good official who served the people—he shouldn't just fade away quietly, but be honored by thousands, enshrined in the temples."