Within the Hall of Gathered Heroes, one hundred and thirty-two Tribute Scholars sat in breathless silence.
Xie Shaoling’s brush hovered over the rice paper for a long time, yet he did not make a mark. It wasn’t because he was struggling; given his talent, the questions of the Imperial Examination weren’t particularly difficult. It was simply that seeing this hall full of scholars sitting so stiffly with such nervous expressions was utterly boring.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at his neighbor. The man’s fingertips were trembling so violently that a drop of ink fell onto his scroll, yet he remained completely oblivious.
Xie Shaoling suddenly let out a soft chuckle, startling the other man so much he nearly knocked over his inkstone.
If Master Plum were here, this palace examination would be much more interesting.
With his mind settled, he began to write as if possessed by a spirit. Ink instantly flooded the paper, manifesting in the same Yan Style calligraphy—thick, steady, and profound—that Qin Zijin was known for.
“Your servant has finished.”
His clear, bright voice pierced the silence. When Xie Shaoling brushed his sleeves and rose, the incense stick had only burned through a third of its length.
The Attending Censor looked at the youth in astonishment. Since the founding of the Chen Dynasty and the establishment of the examinations, no one had ever dared to be so flamboyant during a palace trial.
The Son of Heaven sat upon the throne, his eyes shifting slightly. He took the red scroll from the Censor’s hands, his fingertips lightly grazing the strokes where the ink had yet to dry.
An attendant hurriedly bowed and stepped forward, intending to take the scroll for him, but the Emperor ignored him. He spoke in a low, calm voice: “We shall go personally.”
The Emperor’s voice wasn’t loud, but it fell like a piece of ice into boiling water. The entire hall fell into a dead silence.
The Emperor was personally delivering a test paper?
To whom?
Who else could it be?
The answer was known to everyone in the hall, yet no one dared to speak that name aloud.
The gathered scholars exchanged looks. Some turned pale, some gripped their brushes tighter, and others sneered in silence.
Xie Shaoling sat back down, a mocking curl at the corner of his lips.
Chancellor Gu held the reins of the government alone; if even the Son of Heaven acted this way, what could the court officials do? Their fates in this life—whether they were chosen or discarded, whether they would soar to the clouds or plunge into the abyss—all rested upon a single thought from that “Great Treacherous Minister.”
In the rear hall, the incense burner smoldered heavily, the air quiet and still.
Gu Huaiyu leaned against a green jade armrest, flipping a page with his fingertips, his brow slightly furrowed.
It was the policy essay Yuan Zhuo had handed to the Grand Preceptor yesterday. Marked with red ink and black script, the Grand Preceptor’s evaluation was neat: “His Majesty is naturally brilliant with unique insights; he is truly a young genius.”
Gu Huaiyu let out a scoff and spread the essay out on the desk. Dipping his brush in ink, he carelessly crossed out the entire page with a few strokes, drawing a large turtle instead.
If an ordinary youth had written this essay, he might have deserved the Grand Preceptor’s praise. But Yuan Zhuo was the Son of Heaven. To merely be a “young genius” was far short of what Gu Huaiyu demanded.
Faint footsteps echoed outside the hall. Yuan Zhuo stopped at the door, instinctively smoothing out non-existent wrinkles on his dragon robe. He took a deep breath before pushing the door open.
“Chancellor.”
He spoke softly, his eyes burning as he looked at Gu Huaiyu, his voice carrying a trace of a youth’s trepidation.
Gu Huaiyu didn’t stand, nor did he even look up. He simply tapped his finger on the essay on the desk.
Yuan Zhuo stepped forward lightly. Seeing the crude drawing of the turtle, he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh before turning serious. “The Grand Preceptor said We wrote well. What does the Chancellor think?”
Gu Huaiyu finally looked up. His arm rested on the desk, too lazy to even move it as he simply crooked a finger at the Emperor.
Yuan Zhuo leaned down close to his side. “Where does the Chancellor think We wrote poorly? We shall change it.”
Gu Huaiyu looked at him, his voice neither hot nor cold as he spoke. “There is no need to change it. If Your Majesty spends your mind on the proper path in the future, it will be better than these roundabout schemes.”
Yuan Zhuo’s fingertips tightened slightly, but he didn’t show a hint of dissatisfaction. Instead, he nodded earnestly. “The Chancellor’s lecture is correct.”
Gu Huaiyu’s expression softened slightly, his gaze falling on the scroll in the Emperor’s arms.
Yuan Zhuo spread out the red scroll from the palace exam and introduced it in a low voice: “This person is named Xie Shaoling. We saw that his answers were quite good, so We brought it for the Chancellor to see.”
Gu Huaiyu’s gaze swept over the paper. As expected of a talent he admired, the boy had some of the flair Gu himself had possessed in his youth. The essay was written much like his own—concise, sharp, and biting.
His finger tapped lightly on the line: “Above, follow the timing of Heaven; below, exhaust the wealth of the Earth; in the middle, utilize the strength of Men.” A faint smile touched the corners of his lips.
It was truly a rare, excellent piece of writing.
Yuan Zhuo’s gaze secretly lingered on Gu Huaiyu’s profile. Seeing that expression of clear admiration, his heart couldn’t help but feel a pang of bitterness.
A moment later, Yuan Zhuo brought over a stack of scrolls.
Having sat for so long, Gu Huaiyu’s back felt stiff. He pressed his fingertips against his brow, rubbing it gently.
Seeing this, Eunuch Xu hurried forward to hold the scrolls for him, but Yuan Zhuo had already reached out to take them.
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