How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 245 The truth becomes clearer through debate, and the blade becomes sharper through sharpening!
On the twenty-second day of the twelfth lunar month, before dawn, the chill in Beijing could freeze one's soul. Yet, Qianmen Street was already packed with people. Pancake vendors, porters, and cart drivers all hunched their shoulders, beginning their day's work. Meanwhile, a group of scholars, who could have been sleeping soundly in their warm beds until daybreak, were flocking to one place—the Jiangnan Guild Hall.

Before the guild hall doors even opened, the outside was already a dense, dark mass. It was filled with scholars in long gowns, each clutching a scroll of yellow paper—the newly published *Huangming Baotong* (Imperial Ming Bulletin).

"The door is open!" someone shouted.

The crowd surged forward with a whoosh. As soon as the door panels were removed, people poured inside. The main hall of the guild hall was instantly packed, and those who arrived later could only squeeze into the corridors and courtyard.

A tall, thin man, pushed along by the crowd, finally managed to unfold his newspaper, cleared his throat, and read out the front-page headline:
"The world belongs to all, and only the talented are promoted—A reply to the gentlemen who uphold morality."

Signed, Zhu Siwen.

The hall fell silent instantly, everyone intently reading their newspapers.

The Forbidden City, Wenhua Hall.

Emperor Chongzhen rubbed his hands together, exhaling a puff of white breath. The charcoal fire in the hall was strong, but he still felt a chill seeping from the cracks in the bricks. It wasn't physical cold, but rather a feeling of unease in his heart.

Cao Huachun stepped forward quietly and whispered, "Your Majesty, the report has been sent out. The Jiangnan Guild Hall should be reading it now."

Emperor Chongzhen grunted in acknowledgment, his gaze falling upon another unfurled report. It was an urgent dispatch from the Regent of Korea, stating that Huang Taiji's special imperial examination in Korea was scheduled for this morning.

He tapped the report with his fingertip without looking up: "Shouldn't things be starting in North Korea by now?"

Cao Huachun bent down even lower: "Yes, the time is about right."

Emperor Chongzhen fell silent. He seemed to see two examination halls before his eyes: one in Beijing, where he debated principles before the world; the other in Hanyang, where he was forced to write his loyalty under the threat of death.

However, he did not think that his actions were superior or inferior to Huang Taiji's—the Ming Dynasty and the Jurchens had different national conditions!
Now, the question is whether the Ming Dynasty's new policies can solve the "food problem" of the people in the Northwest more quickly, or whether the Jurchen's sword can extract enough resources from the millions of Korean people more quickly.
He took a deep breath, picked up the vermilion pen, and wrote a red annotation on a memorial concerning the maritime transport of grain.

Outside Changdeok Palace, Hanyang.

Li Hang felt like his legs weren't his own anymore. Standing in the line of students waiting to enter, all he could hear was his own heartbeat, pounding against his eardrums.

The sky was overcast, with a light snowfall. The palace walls stood tall, casting shadows that resembled a gaping maw. Eight Banner soldiers stood on either side, swords drawn, their gazes beneath their helmets colder than the snow.

No one spoke. Only the rustling of footsteps and the occasional suppressed cough could be heard. An old scholar in front suddenly slumped to the ground. Two Green Standard Army soldiers rushed forward, silently dragged him away, leaving two tracks in the snow.

Li Hang swallowed hard, his throat dry and sore. He touched his head; it was bald, his braid neatly combed. But the braid in his heart seemed to always be unruly. In his sleeve, his fingers were tightly gripping a warm, smooth jade pendant, the one his father had tied on his head when he passed the imperial examination the last time.

"Search me!" A shrill voice interrupted his thoughts.

Fan Wencheng directed several Han Chinese bondservants to stand at the palace gate, inspecting each person one by one. They checked everything, from writing brushes and inkstones to food and even the knots in clothing. One scholar's ink stick was so suspicious that it was smashed open on the spot for inspection.

It was Li Hang's turn. He handed over the test basket, his hand surprisingly steady.

Fan Wencheng examined his writing materials, then looked him up and sized him up: "Li Hang from Quanzhou?"

"Yes, student Li Hang." Li Hang lowered his head.

Fan Wencheng didn't ask any more questions and waved his hand. Li Hang bowed and stepped through the vermilion palace gate. The door closed behind him with a dull thud, like being locked in a huge coffin.

The voices at the Jiangnan Guild Hall grew louder and louder.

The tall, thin scholar raised his voice as he read the crucial part:
"...The defender of morality says that the imperial examination system for members of the imperial clan will inevitably lead to the strengthening of the branches and the weakening of the trunk, causing internal strife. I ask you: the imperial clan of the Tang Dynasty, such as Li Xiaogong and Li Daozong, who served as generals and prime ministers, were they not the pillars of the country? The Liu family of the Eastern Han Dynasty, who supported the Han Dynasty, were they not as good as Cao Wei and Sun Wu? The key to preventing chaos lies in the system, not in imprisoning relatives!"

"Bravo!" someone cheered from below.

"Silence! Listen to the end!" more people shouted.

The scholar continued reading, increasing his pace:
"It is also said that the imperial examination is a public instrument of the nation and should not be granted lightly. However, the fairness of a public instrument lies first and foremost in equal opportunity! The imperial relatives of the Ming Dynasty are also subjects of the Ming Dynasty. If we prohibit them from taking the imperial examination, it is tantamount to depriving them of their right to compete. This is completely contrary to the original intention of a public instrument. Lifting this ban is not about granting them official positions, but about giving them the opportunity to compete fairly with scholars from all over the country based on their abilities. Only in this way can it be called a public instrument!"

The room erupted in chaos.

"To compete fairly with all the scholars in the world." A young scholar nodded repeatedly, "That makes sense."

A more mature-looking man next to him shook his head: "That's well said, but the imperial family is, after all, of noble birth. They start from different points, so how can they compete fairly?"

In a corner, a scholar from Shaanxi interjected, "I think it's great! Whoever has the ability should take the job; it's better than some people occupying positions without doing their job!" His rough language drew a burst of laughter, but also a few disgruntled glances. He then snorted, "This *Huangming Tongbao* has opened a reader commentary section; we can also submit articles to discuss whether we support the moralists or Mr. Siwen—we can write articles and submit them!"

This remark sparked another round of discussion, with many hot-blooded scholars eager to try their luck, seemingly without any thought of being punished for their words.

The waiter, carrying a large teapot, weaved through the crowd, refilling hot water, collecting coins, his face beaming with joy.

This newspaper sold better than firecrackers during the Lunar New Year.

Changdeokgung Palace, side hall examination room.

Li Hang sat on the cold bench and spread out the exam paper. The question consisted of only one line:

On the Way of Loyalty to the Emperor and Obedience to Superiors.

The hall was utterly silent, save for the scratching of pens on paper and heavy breathing. Occasionally, someone would cough, immediately drawing a fierce glare from the proctoring Qing soldiers. Li Hang picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, but hesitated to write.

Loyalty to the emperor? Obedience to superiors?
He thought of his father, that stubborn old scholar from the "Southern People's Party," who refused to shave his head until his death. He fled to the countryside to hide, fell ill and had nowhere to buy medicine. Before he breathed his last, he was still holding his father's hand, mumbling "the distinction between the civilized and the barbarian."

He then recalled the Kim Seong-in of the Andong Kim clan he had seen outside the inn yesterday. He was already the Vice Prefect of Jeonju Prefecture and couldn't have been more proud of himself.

The ink on the pen tip is about to drip down.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, all that remained was a deep, heartfelt obedience. His pen fell: "I believe that the essence of loyalty to the emperor lies in obeying his policies, following his orders, and having no disloyal intentions. The fundamental principle of obedience to the ruler lies in understanding his will, following his laws, and eliminating selfish thoughts..."

He wrote about shaving one's head and changing one's clothes, calling it "eliminating old abuses and bringing about a new look"; he wrote about honoring the new dynasty, calling it "the mandate of heaven and the will of the people." He quoted extensively from classical texts, but all of them were about how the old customs of the Jurchens were in line with ancient ways. Every word and sentence was a wholehearted expression of loyalty to the Great Jin.

In the end, he abruptly changed his tone, launching into a lengthy praise of the benefits of shaving one's head:

"...Shaving the head and letting the hair hang down in a queue is not only for the convenience of riding and archery, but also to cleanse the old appearance and show the sincerity of submission. In the past, the grand crown and belt were nothing but empty formalities; today, the simple queue reveals the true nature of practicality. Bathed in the grace of Heaven, let us start anew..."

He wrote slowly, each stroke feeling like a knife to his heart. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temples and dripping onto the paper. He quickly wiped it away with his sleeve, not daring to leave a trace.

When he handed in his paper, he held it with both hands, bowed, and presented it to Fan Wencheng. Fan Wencheng glanced at the beginning, his gaze lingering for a moment on Fan Wencheng's "Ode to Shaving the Head," his lips twitching almost imperceptibly before he waved his hand.

Li Hang stepped out into the sunlight, feeling a little warm on his body, but his heart felt icy cold.

Qianqing Palace, Beijing.

Emperor Chongzhen was listening to Niu Jinxing report on public opinion.

"Your Majesty, the response from scholars has been enthusiastic. We've received over three hundred letters in the 'Reader Comments' section." Niu Jinxing said excitedly. "Although there are still some controversies, most people believe that Your Majesty's statement on 'the world belongs to all' demonstrates your magnanimity!"

Yang Sichang added: "News has also come from newspapers in various places, and even ordinary people are discussing it. The principles of the new policy have indeed spread to the common people."

Emperor Chongzhen nodded, a satisfied smile appearing on his face. He walked to the window and looked at the gray sky outside.

"Any news from Huang Taiji's side?"

Cao Huachun stepped forward: "Your Majesty, a secret report has just arrived. The Korean imperial examination... is over."

Emperor Chongzhen turned around.

Cao Huachun lowered his voice: "Judging by the days, it should be over today. It's said that two hundred Korean scholars will be selected this time. All the participants are Korean scholars who have already shaved their heads."

After a moment of silence in the hall, Emperor Chongzhen spoke, his voice calm: "I understand."

He walked back to his desk and picked up the vermilion brush. The brush tip hovered over the paper, but did not fall for a long time.

He suddenly recalled the historical records of later generations regarding the "keep your hair, lose your head" principle. That bloody chapter had ultimately fallen upon this time and space ahead of schedule. It was just being endured in a different place!
Hanyang, post station.

Li Hang returned to his lodgings, bolted the door, and slid down to sit on the floor, leaning against the door panel. Cold sweat soaked through his heavy clothes, and he trembled violently before falling into a deep sleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he suddenly awoke from his dream of his homeland. Outside, a cacophony of sounds erupted—the clatter of horses' hooves, shouts, and cries. He climbed to the window and peeked out through a crack.

It was already daylight outside, and a troop of Korean Green Standard Army soldiers was escorting several soldiers past. The soldiers were all bound, their faces covered in blood, their mouths stuffed with rags, and they were whimpering.

"Injustice! I have truly submitted!" a scholar broke free and shouted hoarsely, "Every sentence in my writing is a testament to my loyalty to the emperor!"

The squad leader slammed his sword sheath into his face: "Bullshit! What were you thinking when you used the word 'Hu' in your article? Take him away!"

Li Hang slammed the window shut, his heart pounding. He remembered that person; they had discussed classical texts before the exam, and the man's words were filled with reverence for the Jin Dynasty. But that one word, "Hu"...

After an unknown amount of time, a knock sounded at the door. It was very soft, yet it felt like a heavy hammer blow to Li Hang's heart.

He opened the door with trembling hands. Outside stood Jin Chengren, holding a brand-new official robe and hat, with a slick, oily braid trailing behind the hat.

Kim Sung-in's face was full of smiles, but his voice carried an undeniable air of authority:
"Congratulations, Scholar Li, on passing the imperial examination! The Emperor has personally selected you as the top student in the undergraduate program! Quickly change your clothes and come with me to express our gratitude!"

Li Hang stood there, stunned. High school? Top scorer? He stared at the official hat with its queue, and his stomach churned.

But the next second, an overwhelming mix of ecstasy and terror surged through him. He had survived! Not only had he survived, but he had also become the top scholar! Compared to those who had been dragged away, he had received an incredible blessing!
He knelt down with a thud, facing the direction of Changdeokgung Palace, tears streaming down his face, and with all his might kowtowed, shouting:
"Long live the Great Khan! Long live the Great Khan! Long live the Great Khan! Your humble servant Li Hang thanks the Great Khan for His divine grace! Your kindness is something I can never repay in this life or the next!"

The voice was hoarse, echoing in the empty corridor of the inn, carrying a chilling shrillness and... relief.

Kim Seong-in looked at him with satisfaction and stuffed the official robe into his arms.

The Khan's enko was a great success, and he has already captured more than two hundred loyal slaves—all of whom, like Kim Song-in, are Korean scholars, and most of them are from the Yangban class!

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away in Beijing, the debate about "truth" has only just begun.

(End of this chapter)