My father is Chongzhen? Then I have no choice but to rebel.

In the blink of an eye, the calendar for the fifteenth year of Chongzhen's reign had turned to December.

In the streets and alleys of Beijing, the festive atmosphere has not yet fully spread, but another unique kind of liveliness has already quietly emerged.

The upscale inns along Qianmen Street and outside Chongwenmen, which usually cater to merchants and travelers from all over the country, have recently been receiving a number of special guests.

Most of them wore simple scholar's robes and square headscarves, and their demeanor was characterized by the elegance and reserve of scholars. They were often accompanied by one or two pageboys or servants who were responsible for carrying books and doing chores.

The arrival of these people made the inn's business much more prosperous than usual, which also attracted some well-informed people in the capital to gossip about it privately.

"Look at them! It's the scholars from all over the country again. They're here early to prepare for next spring's imperial examinations!"

It should be noted that at this time, scholars who could travel thousands of miles to reach the capital in the dead of winter were already of extraordinary status.

They were not the kind of "poor scholars" often depicted in movies and TV dramas, dressed in rags, penniless, and even needing to be helped by rich young ladies.

When a child begins his studies, after years of hard work, he first needs to pass the county examination presided over by the county magistrate and the prefectural examination presided over by the prefect.

Those who pass both tests can only be called "child students".

The students who passed the preliminary examinations did not receive any official titles or honors, and their social status was no different from that of ordinary people. They were simply qualified to participate in the next level of examinations.

After passing the provincial examinations, students who had passed the preliminary examinations must now pass the provincial education commissioner's examination. Once they pass, they become the most basic level in the imperial examination system, namely, students, commonly known as "xiucai".

The title of Xiucai (秀才) grants a certain level of academic achievement and provides limited privileges such as not having to kneel before the county magistrate and being exempt from corvée labor for two members of their family. This elevates their social status, but they still belong to the lowest stratum of the "shi" (士) class.

The real turning point came with the upcoming provincial examination.

The provincial examinations were held every three years in the provincial capitals of each province. Because they usually took place in the eighth month of the lunar calendar, they were also known as the "autumn examinations".

This is a national-level examination, with the emperor personally appointing the chief examiner. The competition is so fierce that it's like thousands of soldiers crossing a single-plank bridge.

Within a province, countless scholars competed in the same arena, but only a handful ultimately stood out.

Once they passed the imperial examination, they were called "Juren" (举人), and their status underwent a qualitative leap.

The Juren (举人) were no longer ordinary scholars, but veritable "Juren Masters" (举人老爷), and had already qualified to become officials.

Although they could not directly enter the Hanlin Academy or be appointed to important positions such as county magistrate like the Jinshi (successful candidates in the highest imperial examinations), they could be selected as mid- to low-ranking officials such as county magistrate, professor of the prefectural school, or head of the county school through methods such as "Da Tiao" or "Jie Qu".

Many famous officials in history came from such backgrounds.

Secondly, there are significant economic and social privileges and extremely high local prestige.

The scholar who passed the imperial examination was a highly influential figure in his hometown.

Upon assuming office, newly appointed local officials are customarily required to visit retired officials, scholars, and those who have passed the imperial examinations, in order to demonstrate their respect for talent and seek local support.

They wielded considerable influence in local public affairs, such as mediating disputes, constructing water conservancy projects, and establishing free schools, serving as a vital bridge connecting imperial officials with local communities.

Therefore, those scholars who could appear in the inns of the capital were by no means ordinary people; they had long since transcended the category of "poor and pedantic".

Before setting off for the capital to participate in the imperial examination, their families, clans, and even county governments and local gentry would often pool together a considerable sum of money for their travel expenses.

This money is enough to support their decent life in the capital for several months or even half a year.

For example, you can rent a nice hotel room, pay for daily expenses, and even have extra money for socializing, buying books, and visiting mentors and classmates.

In addition, there are hometown associations scattered throughout the capital.

These guild halls were built or sponsored by officials and merchants from the same hometown who lived in Beijing. One of their main functions was to provide inexpensive or even free accommodation for candidates from their hometown who came to Beijing to take the imperial examinations. They also frequently organized literary gatherings and provided information for exam preparation, forming a powerful force of mutual assistance among fellow villagers.

Famous guild halls like the Huguang Guild Hall, Anhui Guild Hall, and Shaoxing Guild Hall are always bustling with people and filled with local dialects during the year of the competition.

Of course, nothing is absolute.

After all, this is the capital city. Even a scholar who has passed the imperial examinations may find himself in financial straits if he comes from a humble background, has limited family and local support, or is not good at managing money.

However, this is not a common phenomenon; it is more due to personal circumstances or poor management than to the normal status of a scholar.

In short, the city of Beijing in the twelfth lunar month was imbued with an air of elegance and anticipation thanks to these scholars who arrived early.

They either secluded themselves to study diligently, visited each other to exchange ideas and hone their skills, or frequented the bookstores of Liulichang, making their final preparations for the talent selection ceremony in February of the following year, which would determine the fate of countless people.

The lights in the inn often stayed on until late at night, and the air seemed to be filled with the scent of ink and a tense anticipation.

For the imperial court, this also means that the preparations for the Guiwei imperial examination are about to enter the most crucial sprint stage.

Officials from the Ministry of Rites had already begun to busy themselves with tedious tasks such as arranging examination venues and selecting examiners.

A grand event that will capture the attention of scholars across the land is quietly brewing in this cold winter.

Time flies like an arrow, and before we know it, it's December again.

With Emperor Chongzhen's birthday approaching, followed closely by the Spring Festival, a time of national celebration, preparations for various celebrations have begun both inside and outside the palace. However, under the blanket of snow, the capital city is more solemn and tranquil than usual.

On this very day, the sky was overcast as if it were dusk, and heavy snow fell like goose feathers, covering the official roads, fields, and villages in a hazy, silvery-white blanket.

About twenty miles outside Deshengmen in Beijing, a group of about five hundred people were braving the howling north wind and blinding snowflakes as they trudged along an official road that was almost completely buried in snow.

The wheels crunched through the deep snow with a dull, laborious creak, and the hot breath from the mules and horses condensed into white mist before being torn away and dissipated by the cold wind.

The guards were wrapped tightly in heavy cotton armor, their hat brims and shoulders covered in snow, and their eyebrows and beards were covered with a fine layer of frost. They silently guarded the core of the group, which consisted of several sturdy-looking carriages.

The carriage in the center was particularly spacious, with the interior completely covered by thick cotton curtains, and the four strong horses pulling it looked exceptionally spirited.

Compared to the freezing cold outside, the inside of the train carriage was a completely different world.

In the corner, a small bronze animal-head charcoal brazier was burning brightly, radiating warmth and completely isolating the harsh cold outside.

A middle-aged official, dressed in a scarlet robe with a pheasant insignia of a second-rank official and a black fox fur cloak, was sitting in a carriage with thick cushions, holding a copy of "Zizhi Tongjian" in his hands.

He didn't seem to be focused on reading; his gaze kept drifting to the slightly swaying carriage curtain, as if he could see through the thick fabric to the outline of the capital city so close at hand. The man had a lean face and deep eyes, with three neatly trimmed long wisps of beard on his chin. Despite the long journey, he couldn't hide the barely suppressed excitement and anticipation between his brows.

And he was none other than Hong Chengchou, who had just stepped down as the military governor of Liaodong and was ordered to return to the capital urgently!
A month earlier, the imperial court's official gazette and the Ministry of War's documents had arrived in Liaodong, officially appointing a new Governor-General of Liaodong to succeed him.

Hong Chengchou was finally able to unload his heavy burden and return to the capital by imperial decree, where a broader political stage awaited him!
He joined the cabinet to participate in important affairs and became a cabinet minister that everyone looked up to!

The thought of stepping into the Wenyuan Pavilion, the symbol of the core of imperial power, and sitting on equal footing with important officials such as Xue Guoguan and Fan Jingwen to participate in deciding the fate of the world, made Hong Chengchou's heart pound with excitement.

He subconsciously straightened his clothes, took a deep breath of the warm air in the carriage, and tried to calm his heart, which was beating faster with anticipation.

At the rear of this procession followed more than ten ordinary mule carts or horse-drawn carriages.

These vehicles were far less comfortable than Hong Chengchou's own carriage; the interiors were cramped and poorly insulated, and a group of young people dressed as scholars were crammed inside.

They were the scholars who had come from Liaodong with Hong Chengchou to participate in the imperial examination of the year Guiwei.

After the initial pacification of Liaodong, the literary atmosphere gradually recovered, but after all, it had experienced war and the foundation of education was relatively weak. This year, there were only about eighty students qualified to go to the capital to take the imperial examination.

Hong Chengchou, understanding their long journey, freezing weather, and the unrest beyond the Great Wall, ordered them to be gathered together and escorted to the capital by his own military guard, thus ensuring their safety and demonstrating the court's benevolence.

However, the treatment of these Liaodong students was naturally incomparable to that of the Governor-General.

They mostly huddled together in twos and threes in a car, relying on each other's body heat and a limited number of blankets to keep warm.

The carriage was drafty from all sides, and a charcoal brazier was a luxury; all they could do was huddle together, rubbing their hands and stamping their feet.

Outside the window lay a vast snowfield, and the journey was bumpy. For these young scholars, most of whom were leaving their hometowns for the first time, this trip was undoubtedly a difficult test.

The weather was bitterly cold, the roads were slippery and difficult to travel on, and even riding a horse was extremely dangerous, so we could only stay in this mobile "ice cellar".

"Look! Ahead! That's the capital! We've arrived!"

Suddenly, a joyful shout came from the front of the group, piercing through the howling wind and snow.

Upon hearing the sound, the students crammed into the car struggled to stick their heads out, ignoring the biting wind that cut their faces, and strained to look into the distance.

At the edge of the swirling snow, the outline of a majestic gray city wall, like a lurking beast, gradually came into clear view.

The towering arrow towers, the continuous battlements, and the faintly visible outline of the city gates all demonstrate the majesty and grandeur of the central government of the Ming Dynasty.

"We're here! We're really here!"

"The capital! This is right under the emperor's nose!"

In an instant, the students forgot their cold and fatigue, bursting into cheers, their faces, red from the cold, brimming with excitement and anticipation.

For the vast majority of them, this was their first time visiting the capital.

The thought of stepping into this legendary imperial city to participate in the imperial examination that would determine one's fate, and that once one passed the exam, one could stay in this prosperous place and become an official of the court, bringing glory to one's ancestors, was enough to make one's heart pound with excitement and joy.
However, amidst this jubilant atmosphere, two people stood out as out of place.

They huddled in a corner of a carriage, not cheering with the crowd, but instead their brows furrowed, their eyes filled with tension, unease, and a barely perceptible worry.

If a discerning person observes closely, they will notice subtle but crucial differences in appearance between them and their Han Chinese classmates.

Their cheekbones are slightly high, their eyes are more elongated with slightly upturned corners, and even their hairlines at the temples are somewhat distinctive.

If you were to remove the Confucian scholar's square headscarf from their heads, you would be surprised to find that their hairstyle was neither the traditional Han Chinese bun nor the Jurchen's signature "money rat tail" braid, but rather a rather strange one.

If I had to describe it, it's like shaving your head completely off, and the newly grown short hair is barely combed neatly, but because it's not long enough, it looks a bit uneven, and it's in a transitional state, similar to a hairstyle in later times.

This is clearly a trace left by the hasty change of the original hairstyle.

In fact, these two people are indeed extraordinary.

They were not Han Chinese, but Jurchens from beyond the Great Wall.

The one who was tall and thin, with a face bearing the marks of hardship from beyond the Great Wall, was originally named Wushiqi (Fifty-Seven) in Jurchen.

This name might sound ridiculous or even casual to Han Chinese, but it was quite common in Manchu society at the time. Many ordinary people would use the age of their grandparents or parents at the time of their birth as their name.

Numbers like "seventy-two" and "eighty-three" are full of simple folk customs.

In order to integrate into the Han Chinese culture, he took the homophone of "five" (五) and "Wu" (吴) as his surname, based on the similarity of "fifty-seven". He also gave himself a Han name with a strong Confucian flavor, "Shouren" (守仁), which means to adhere to benevolence and virtue. Therefore, his Han name was Wu Shouren.

The other one was short and stout with a ruddy complexion; his original name was Sabing'a.

He completely abandoned his original name and chose the common Chinese surname "Chang," and named himself "Yong'an," meaning long-lasting peace. His Chinese name was Chang Yong'an.

Upon seeing this, some people may feel extremely shocked and confused.

These two guys are actually Jurchens?
They can actually read and write?
Were they also successful candidates in the imperial examinations?

Are you here to participate in the Ming Dynasty's imperial examinations as well?

Isn't this the most ridiculous thing in the world?

However, that is the truth of the matter.
They were still Jurchens, also scholars who had passed the imperial examinations, and had come to participate in this examination!

Since Huang Taiji ascended the throne, in order to consolidate his rule and attract talent, he also began to pay attention to education and culture, and followed the Ming Dynasty system to hold simple civil service examinations in the areas under his control.

Although its scale and standards were far inferior to those of the Ming Dynasty, it did find a considerable number of talented individuals.

Therefore, in some Jurchen tribes in Liaodong, especially in areas with more contact with Han people, the trend of reading and studying did indeed begin to quietly emerge.

Then, Zhu Cilang recovered a large amount of lost territory after the Battle of Songjin, including many tribal people who originally lived in the area and did not actively follow Huang Taiji.

In order to divide and weaken them, the court clearly classified these surrendered residents as "Assimilated Jurchens" or "Civilized Jurchens," completely separating them from the Jurchens who insisted on resisting.

Among these naturalized Jurchens, a few had some exposure to literature and admired Han culture. (End of Chapter)