Becoming a literary master starting from the story of Minglan

Chapter 488 In Progress

……

As night falls, the chill seeps in through every crack in the bricks and between the fences.

Sheng Changquan lit the small oil lamp provided on the wall of the cell. The tiny flame flickered, barely dispelling the darkness in the small space. He wrapped his cotton robe tighter, breathed on his fingers which were stiff from the cold, and continued to write down his answers to the questions about the scriptures.

The smoke from the oil lamp was pungent, making the air even more murky.

In the distance, the slow, heavy footsteps of the old patrolman struck the silent night like a blunt instrument, one after another, carrying an invisible pressure. More clearly, the heart-wrenching yet desperately suppressed coughing sound came from a certain cell, echoing in the utterly silent examination hall, adding a touch of desolation and despair.

Just at this agonizing moment, an unexpected cold snap, accompanied by icy rain, suddenly swept through the examination hall!

The cold wind, like a runaway beast, howled and poured in from the open roof above the cells and through the gaps in the fence. Icy raindrops pattered down, instantly soaking the curled corners near the fence.

"hiss……"

"Ugh!"

A collective gasp and the sound of teeth chattering filled the air.

Many scholars, who were already physically weak, were caught off guard and trembled violently from the cold, unable to even hold their pens steady.

With a few soft "plop" sounds, ink dripped onto the pristine white paper, spreading into glaring stains, which immediately drew several suppressed, frustrated, and desperate cries!
"My test paper!"

"Heaven will kill me!"

"..."

The biting cold also assaulted Sheng Changquan. The icy air felt like fine needles carrying ice shards, piercing into his very bones. The knuckles of his fingers, which were holding the pen, visibly turned red from the cold, and a slight numbness spread along his fingertips.

However, just as the chill was about to penetrate even deeper—a pure, scorching warm current, completely under his control, suddenly erupted from his dantian!
This was not the brute force of an ordinary martial artist, but rather stemmed from the extraordinary talent he awakened deep within his soul—the ability to control his own qi and blood with exquisite precision.

With a slight thought, the warm current instantly split into countless thin yet resilient heat lines, flowing precisely along specific meridian pathways.

Like the most skillful weavers, they quickly weave an invisible, warm net of fire between the subcutaneous fascia, firmly locking in the core body temperature. At the same time, more "heat lines" precisely flow to the extremities, especially the fingertips. The frozen, stiff feeling, like thin snow under the spring sun, melts away in a few breaths, replaced by a smooth, jade-like flexibility and stability.

The chill was nothing to him at this moment, like scratching an itch through a boot.

However, Sheng Changquan showed no sign of anything amiss, and even deliberately kept the reddish tinge on his fingertips, preventing it from fading completely.

To maintain the appearance of a frail scholar as "Sixth Son of the Sheng Family," he still, like an ordinary scholar, cupped his hands to his mouth and earnestly exhaled a few puffs of warm, white breath.

Although the heat was completely unnecessary for him at this moment, he had to maintain the proper posture, so he vigorously rubbed his fingertips together, even more so than others, as if only in this way could he regain consciousness.

Having made this gesture, he picked up his brush again, dipped it in ink, and began to write on the scroll.

His movements were incredibly fluid and natural, his brushstrokes as steady as a rock, without a trace of stiffness or trembling caused by the cold. He lowered his head slightly, his expression focused, as if the howling wind and rain, the sighs and coughs of his neighbors, and the heavy footsteps of the patrolmen were all separated from him by an invisible barrier.

This barrier is not only the tenacity of the mind, but also a "warm stove" built from the exquisite qi and blood.
This almost eerie composure displayed in such an extremely harsh environment caused the old official, carrying a dim lantern, his raincoat dripping with water, to stop in his tracks as he passed by the fence of the prison cell.

Through the rain and the gaps in the fence, the cloudy old eyes fell on that calm and composed figure.

The old official had served in the examination hall for decades and had seen countless scholars in all walks of life, some nervous and fearful, some anxious and restless, some shivering and huddled together from the cold. But to see someone as calm and composed as he was now, with even the way he rubbed his hands having a strange rhythm, was truly a sight he had never seen before.

He secretly praised him: This boy's will is as firm as a rock!
Just then, a scroll of classical texts that Sheng Changquan had just finished was laid out to the side, waiting for the ink to dry. The scroll was facing upwards, barely illuminated by the dim yellow light of the lantern.

Although the old official was a few steps away, and the weather was dark and windy, he could feel a refreshing and vigorous aura emanating from him with just a fleeting glance!

That word!

The ink on the scroll was dripping, and each character was clearly visible.

The brushstrokes do not simply pursue strength, but rather combine strength and gentleness, flowing like clouds and water, with a powerful force hidden within their elegance. The turns are smooth and rounded, like a gazelle hanging its horns, and the structure is well-spaced, like stars scattered across the sky. The composition is rigorous yet exudes a free and unrestrained spirit.

The whole piece is like a meticulously woven piece of dark brocade, extremely pleasing to the eye. What's even more wonderful is that each character seems to contain a kind of restrained "strength". Between the beginning, development, transition and conclusion of the strokes, there is an indescribable rhythm and stability, as if the writer has the strength of a thousand pounds, yet handles it with ease.

Even the most discerning Hanlin scholar would likely find it difficult to spot the slightest flaw in this handwriting. Although the old official was not well-versed in classical literature, decades of exposure to the examination hall had honed his eye for detail.

His heart trembled, and he thought to himself: What excellent calligraphy! At such a young age, he has such a mastery of the official script, and the strength and composure revealed between the lines are something that ordinary scholars cannot achieve through hard work!

This calligraphy alone is enough to impress people.

He couldn't help but glance a few more times at the young scholar who was focused on writing, and secretly memorized the cell number and name of "Sheng Changquan".

Inside the cell, Sheng Changquan didn't pay much attention to the brief pause outside the fence; to him, it was just a necessary part of his rounds.

However, a barely perceptible wisp of mental energy, like an invisible tentacle, sensed the old official's lantern light shift away and confirmed that his footsteps had gone far away before he relaxed slightly.

Although he knew there was no ill intent, Sheng Changquan still felt somewhat uncomfortable being watched.

By the flickering, dim light of the oil lamp, he gathered his thoughts and decided to switch to a relatively "easy" subject to adjust his pace.

The imperial examination was divided into three sessions, each lasting three days, to test the scholars' comprehensive talents and learning. The first session tested "interpretation of the classics" and "memorization of the classics," requiring in-depth study of the profound meanings of the sages' words, analysis of difficult classic texts, and memorization of designated passages. This was fundamental learning, emphasizing solid foundation and memorization.

Sheng Changquan had just finished writing the title of the sutra, but it was not yet finished.

The second round focuses on "poetry and prose" and "judgment." The poetry and prose section tests talent, literary skills, theme, meter, and artistic conception; the judgment section simulates official case judgment, testing logical reasoning, application of law, and writing style.

The third test, "Policy Questions," requires candidates to offer insights and solutions to major practical issues such as current affairs, economy, military, people's livelihood, river works, and official governance. This test best demonstrates a candidate's vision, perspective, and practical abilities.

At this moment, he drew the part from the second round that required composing a poem. The topic was simple yet all-encompassing: "Use 'spring' as the theme to compose a seven-character regulated poem."

Spring?

In this chilly, cold wind and rain of late spring, in the oppressive and suffocating examination cells of the examination hall, how many scholars could only lament with their pens, "The spring chill is biting" and "My pen is frozen and I can hardly write"?

Sheng Changquan's mind raced, and the treasure trove of his past life memories quietly opened. He did not choose the cliché of simply praising the brilliance of spring, but instead turned his gaze to a deeper space-time and a more transcendent realm. The frost on his fingertips had long since faded, and his blood and qi flowed warmly within his body, maintaining the best state of thinking.

He hesitated for a moment, then picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and held it steady as a rock. The wolf-hair brush, laden with rich ink, flowed smoothly onto the pristine white Xuan paper, writing the first line:
"The purple road and the red dust blow against my face, and everyone says they are going to see the flowers."

The poem begins with a bustling scene on the main avenue of Shenjing in spring, where tourists throng and carriages hum. The dust of the world brushes against one's face as one returns from admiring the flowers. These eight characters vividly depict the city's frenzied spring outing, creating a vivid and evocative image.

With a sudden shift in tone, the second line elevates the overall imagery, subtly revealing a hidden meaning: "In the Shanglin Garden, there are thousands of peach trees, all planted after Liu Sheng left."

Although it was plagiarism, Sheng Changquan still had to make some minor adjustments.

Since there was no Xuandu Temple in this world, he changed the name to the royal garden "Shanglin Garden" and changed "Liu Lang" to "Liu Sheng," which was more in line with the title of this world, referring to an ancient sage who was demoted or marginalized.

The thousands of newly blossoming peach trees in the royal garden were all planted after "Liu Sheng" left! On the surface, it describes the newly planted peach trees and the change of spring, but in reality, it implies that those who achieve fame in the imperial examinations and become new officials in the court are merely "successors" after the departure of the old ones. The words are witty and contain satire and insight into the changes of the world.

But this is not the end. Sheng Changquan's writing style changes again. The last two lines are like metal and stone hitting the ground, expressing his feelings directly and elevating his realm beyond fame and fortune, showing the transcendent vision of a time traveler.

"Don't be proud of passing the imperial examination; after the banquet at the Imperial Academy, thorns will follow."

A wake-up call! Don't think that passing the imperial examination and receiving a grand banquet are the pinnacle of life. After the feast, what awaits may be the ups and downs of officialdom, infighting, and a thorny road ahead. This frankly speaks of the dangers and unpredictability behind fame and fortune, with a touch of cold soberness.

The concluding lines are even more thought-provoking, revealing a broad-minded spirit: "Behold the loyal heart recorded in history, why seek fame and glory on the imperial examination?"

It concludes the entire piece with a lofty theme.

True achievement lies in having a heart and soul devoted to the country and its people that will be etched in history and shine through the ages! Why then be so fixated on a prestigious examination to forge so-called "fame and fortune"?
This is both a profound reflection on worldly pursuits and a resounding declaration of one's own aspirations—what one seeks is not temporary fame and fortune, but lasting righteousness and the peace of all people! The transcendence and steadfastness contained in the verses subtly resonate with the vital energy flowing within him, revealing a powerful spiritual core.

The poem, consisting of only four lines, skillfully employs allusions, vivid imagery, and strong contrasts. The first two lines depict a lively spring scene, subtly revealing a keen understanding of worldly affairs; the last two lines directly express the poet's feelings, with a lofty tone, fusing the imagery of "spring" with the examinations, official career, and the value of life into one, demonstrating overflowing talent and outstanding conception!
Amidst a gathering of scholars either striving for fame and fortune or shivering in the cold, this poem, like a clear spring, can cleanse the soul and make one stand out from the crowd.

Sheng Changquan smiled slightly, put down the poem manuscript, and turned his attention back to the more difficult analysis of the classics.

……

Time slips away quietly amidst the ink and the fragrance of ink.

As Sheng Changquan wrote the last word, his wrist lifted slightly, and the pen tip left the paper. Only then did the extreme stability maintained by his blood and qi relax slightly, and his fingertips became even more agile than before.