The Great Song Dynasty: You were put in charge of teaching, and you produced a whole bunch of prime

Jingshi Academy, Martial Arts Training Ground.

Before the morning mist had even dissipated, the training ground was already packed with over three hundred registered candidates, resembling a sardine can.

The air was filled with a restless atmosphere that mixed the smells of breakfast, sweat, and male hormones.

Jiang Lin stood on the high platform, waving his signature folding fan, his face nonchalant and irritating, looking particularly irritating.

Behind him was a row of huge bamboo cages covered with black cloth.

"Ahem, quiet."

Jiang Lin cleared his throat, his voice not loud, but it instantly silenced the commotion below, which resembled a bustling market.

"I know everyone is in a hurry, but let's not rush."

Jiang Lin turned around and yanked off the black cloth.

"Coo coo coo—"

Hundreds of grayish homing pigeons huddled in the cage, flapping their wings and shedding feathers all over the ground.

"The rules for this admission selection process are very simple, listen carefully."

Jiang Lin pointed at the pigeons, a wicked smile playing on his lips, looking exactly like a shrewd merchant about to rip someone off:

"The secret pouches representing admission qualifications are hidden in various corners of Bianjing City, and the clues lie on these pigeon legs."

"You have three days to get the brocade pouch and bring it back, and you can become a new batch of students at my Jing Shi Academy."

These words immediately caused an uproar in the audience.

"Catching pigeons? What kind of exam is this!"

"They're not testing us on the Four Books and Five Classics? And they don't require essays on policy?"

"This is utterly disgraceful! I came here to study, not to become a hunter!"

Amidst the protests, some quick-thinking individuals, their eyes gleaming with greed, loudly asked:

"Headmaster! What are the rules? Can we steal? Can we team up?"

Jiang Lin raised an eyebrow and snapped his folding fan shut.

"Except for murder and arson, which violate the laws of the Song Dynasty—"

He paused, revealing a set of white teeth:

There are no rules.

The entire room fell silent for a second.

There are no rules?

Doesn't that mean... this is a jungle survival game?!

Before anyone could react, Jiang Lin waved his hand, and the gate opened wide.

"Get out of here!"

"Puff puff puff—"

Three hundred carrier pigeons, like a swarm of wasps disturbing its nest, instantly soared into the sky, flying haphazardly in all directions like headless flies.

"Holy crap! They got away!"

"That's my bird! Don't take it!"

"Who stepped on my shoe?!"

The training ground erupted in chaos. Three hundred scholars, who usually spoke fluent classical Chinese, abandoned all their refinement and created a scene resembling a large-scale market.

The camera cuts to the eastern corner.

A group of people were craning their necks, running wildly after a pigeon. The pigeon was mischievous, flying up and down, making the people below look like monkeys.

"Gotcha! Gotcha!"

A scholar shouted excitedly and lunged forward. He slipped and fell flat on his face, nearly knocking out his front teeth.

The person next to him jumped up, stepping on his back, and reached out to grab him, only to pluck a handful of pigeon feathers. Startled, the pigeon fluttered away and flew even higher.

Su Shi stood to the side, holding a handful of melon seeds from who-knows-where, cracking them open while commenting:

"Tsk tsk, buddy, are you catching pigeons or practicing Toad Kung Fu?"

"Hey, hey, you fat guy, don't climb that tree! The branches are so thin, they can't support you... *snap*! See? I told you you couldn't hold on."

He shook his head, looking disappointed: "It's an insult to culture, an absolute disgrace to culture."

The camera cuts to the west.

Shen Kuo did not chase after the pigeons. He stood still and calmly took out a handful of golden grains from his sleeve.

This is not ordinary grain; it has been soaked in a special solution and has a peculiar aroma.

He scattered the grains on the ground, then squatted down and waited quietly.

Before long, a dozen pigeons that had been flying around in the sky smelled the aroma and came down in a flurry, scrambling to grab the food.

Shen Kuo smiled slightly, reached out, slowly grabbed the fattest one, untied the paper strip from its leg, and looked at it.

"Ten miles east of the city... that's too far, no thanks."

He stuffed the note back in, released the pigeon, and then picked up another one.

"Even under the emperor's nose... this is unacceptable, it's a royal forbidden area."

Several other test-takers, exhausted and unable to catch a single pigeon, stared in disbelief. One of them couldn't help but ask:

"Brother, how...how did you do that? Do you possess magic?"

Shen Kuo raised his head and replied in a serious tone, "I only have a little knowledge of aquaculture."

The camera cuts to the north.

Wang Shao carried a bow he had somehow acquired, his eyes sharp as an eagle's.

Instead of chasing the pigeons that were flying around randomly, he focused on the one that was flying the highest and looked the hardest to catch.

Nock the arrow, draw the bow, and aim.

"Whoosh—"

The arrow, swift as a shooting star, pierced precisely through the base of the pigeon's wing.

The pigeon let out a pitiful cry, spun around, and fell, landing right at Wang Shao's feet.

He's not dead yet, but he can't fly anymore.

Wang Shao bent down, untied the note, glanced at it, and nodded in satisfaction. Then he casually handed the still-fluttering pigeon to a stunned examinee next to him.

"Take it to make soup, it'll help you recover."

The examinee, holding the bleeding pigeon, looked utterly bewildered: "This...this is the academy's pigeon..."

Wang Shao ignored him, slung his bow over his shoulder, and strode away.

The camera cuts to the main entrance.

Some people noticed that the young man in black named Zhang Dun didn't move at all.

He stood guard at the gate like a doorman, and when someone came running excitedly with clues, he would greet them with a smile.

"Brother, may I borrow this note?"

His tone was polite, his smile gentle, but his eyes sent a chill down your spine.

The person who was stopped wanted to get angry, but when he saw Zhang Dun's calm, still eyes, and his fist that seemed to be clenched intentionally or unintentionally, he swallowed back the curse that was about to come out of his mouth.

"Let me...let me show you..."

Zhang Dun took the note, glanced at it, and if he wasn't satisfied, he would return it; if he was, he would keep it.

Without lifting a finger, he managed to "borrow" three of the best clues with his "I'm reasonable but I don't mind killing you" aura.

As the sun set, the farce finally came to an end.

Su Shi clapped the melon seed shells off his hands, looked at the messy training ground, and shook his head with a sigh:

"These people are taking the college entrance exam like they're fighting over cabbages at a market. What kind of behavior is this?"

As he was talking, he looked down and saw a dirty note on the ground covered in footprints, clearly discarded by someone who didn't want it.

Su Shi picked it up out of curiosity, unfolded it, and immediately burst into laughter:

"'A place of silence under the emperor's feet'? What is this? Does it mean they're sending people into the palace to find a secret pouch?"

He laughed so hard he almost fell over: "Sir, that's too mean. Anyone who believes that will probably lose their head."

Just then, a fair and slender hand reached out and gently snatched the note from his hand.

Su Shi was taken aback and looked up.

He was a scholar with a petite stature and an excessively delicate appearance.

Su Shi kindly reminded him, "Brother, this petition is useless. Entering the palace means execution, so don't do anything rash."

Zhao Lingjun glanced at the note in her hand, blinked her bright, watery eyes, and said nothing.

She carefully folded the note, tucked it into her sleeve, and then turned and left.

Su Shi watched her retreating figure, touched his nose, and looked utterly bewildered.

"This guy's weird, is he an idiot?"

By sunset, all three hundred pigeons had been caught, and the three hundred slips of paper had been distributed to everyone.

Then came the problem.

The test takers stared at each other, wide-eyed, as they held the clues they had so painstakingly obtained.

"The waters of the Bian River come from the sky"—is this asking me to ascend to heaven? I'm not a monkey!

"Reaching for the stars and the moon atop Fanlou Tower—Fanlou is so high, how do you get up there? Do you fly up?"

"Sell this stone for a thousand strings of cash—this piece of junk? You picked it up by the roadside, didn't you? Are you kidding me?"

A chorus of groans filled the training ground. The examinees looked at each other in bewilderment, realizing that the clues were completely incomprehensible, like gibberish.

Shen Kuo squatted in the corner, spread out the note in his hand, and thought about it carefully in the afterglow of the setting sun.

A moment later, the corners of his mouth slowly turned up, revealing a confident smile.

He understood.

"interesting."

Shen Kuo put away the note, dusted himself off, and strode toward the city.

Behind them, a group of people were still scratching their heads, and some had even begun to doubt their existence.