The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

Wenhua Teahouse is located on the east side of the Imperial College and is a popular gathering place for students in the capital.

Every month on the fifth day, the second floor of the teahouse would be booked by various academic societies to hold a poetry gathering of moderate size.

Most of the attendees were young scholars from all over the country who came to Beijing to study, with occasional students from the Imperial Academy also joining in, discussing poetry and scholarship, and exchanging ideas.

Today, the eldest prince, Zhou Cong, sat in a corner by the window on the second floor, wearing an inconspicuous gray cloth robe.

A pot of the cheapest chrysanthemum tea sat before him, and he held an old book he had borrowed from somewhere in his hands. He looked no different from the poor students around him who were short of money.

He came alone today, without any attendants.

Yao Guangxiao told him that in order to truly understand the thoughts and ideas of scholars from humble backgrounds, he must put aside his princely status and integrate himself into their lives as an ordinary student.

It wasn't an incognito visit, nor was it about showing respect to the virtuous and learned; it was about genuinely sitting among them, listening to what they said, watching what they read, and experiencing their most authentic lives.

Zhou Cong was initially a little uncomfortable, but after sitting for half an hour, he found that he actually liked the atmosphere.

No one bowed to him, no one flattered him, and no one carefully considered every word for fear of offending him by saying the wrong thing.

They treated him as just another ordinary student attending the poetry gathering. Occasionally someone would come over to borrow a light, and occasionally someone would complain to him that the chrysanthemum tea at the teahouse was getting weaker and weaker.

Halfway through the poetry gathering, a burst of enthusiastic applause suddenly erupted in the teahouse.

Zhou Cong looked up and saw a young man in a faded blue shirt standing in the center of the hall, holding a roll of Xuan paper in his hand and reciting a new poem he had just written.

The poem expresses remembrance of the soldiers guarding the frontier. The language is not particularly ornate, but it is sincere and heartfelt, especially the last two lines.

"The wind blows through my bones every night in the border town, yet I remain a dreamer in my boudoir."

This resonated with many students present, who nodded in agreement.

Zhou Cong couldn't help but put down his book and glance at the young man a few more times.

After the poem was recited, several familiar students gathered around, eagerly passing the manuscript around.

Zhou Cong picked up his chrysanthemum tea, took a sip, and was about to continue reading when he suddenly heard people at the next table discussing something in hushed tones.

The topic of discussion was not the poem from earlier, but rather the salt and iron monopoly policy recently implemented by the imperial court.

At first, it was just two people talking quietly, but it gradually attracted students from several other tables around to join in, and the discussion became more and more intense.

"In my opinion, the salt and iron monopoly may seem to be a government monopoly, but in reality, local salt merchants collude with local officials to exploit the people at every level, and in the end, it is the common people who suffer."

"Of the taxes collected by the imperial court from salt and iron each year, what percentage actually goes into the national treasury, and what percentage is intercepted by local authorities?"

"This is the inherent problem of the imperial monopoly system. If it is not fundamentally reformed, relying solely on harsh laws and punishments will only treat the symptoms, not the root cause."

A tall, thin young man spoke passionately, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.

Across from him sat a handsome scholar, who simply shook his head after listening to his discussion.

This person was a student from Mingdao Academy, wearing a faded blue cotton robe with a few ink stains on the cuffs.

Although he didn't seem to come from a wealthy family, he exuded a calm and composed demeanor.

He calmly took over the conversation, but his words went a step further than those of the tall, thin young man: "Brother Zhao is right, but the debate between monopoly and taxation is actually more than one thing."

"The problem with monopolies is monopoly, and the problem with taxation is enforcement. The two seem to be contradictory, but in fact they can be compatible in specific system design."

"When I was at Mingdao Academy, I heard Mr. Hu say, 'The key to governance is to eliminate selfishness; if selfishness is not eliminated, justice cannot be served.' If the government can clearly distinguish between public and private interests in its monopolies, it may not be impossible to balance efficiency and fairness."

As soon as he spoke, the students at the surrounding tables fell silent.

Zhou Cong also put down the book in his hand and leaned forward slightly.

He noticed that the scholar in the blue robe spoke with great clarity and his tone was not loud, yet he could make everyone present quiet down and listen to him.

A round-faced scholar beside him chimed in, "Indeed, Brother Lin is right. However, I think this matter should be viewed from another perspective."

"Whether it's a monopoly or taxation, in the end, it's all about managing things. Salt is a thing, iron is a thing, and silver is a thing."

"But what truly determines whether these logistics can flow smoothly is people. When I was at Mingdao Academy, I heard Mr. Zhen say, 'Law is a tool for governance, not the root of governance. The root of governance lies in having the right people.'"

"No matter how good a system is, if the people implementing it are incompetent, it will ultimately be just a piece of paper. Instead of spending all day figuring out how to change the system, the court should spend more effort cultivating people who can implement it."

These words prompted another student from Mingdao Academy to chime in.

He was a slightly overweight young man who spoke slowly and deliberately, yet every word was firm and clear: "The relationship between merchants and the imperial court, in the end, still comes down to the principle of 'mutual benefit between public and private interests'."

"I once heard Mr. Huang say at Mingdao Academy, 'When both the public and private sectors benefit, merchants are encouraged and the national treasury is sufficient; when the public and private sectors harm each other, merchants are impoverished and the national treasury is depleted.'"

"If the imperial court can treat merchants as partners rather than objects of exploitation, and allow them to make money within the legal scope, they will naturally transport salt and iron to the most remote places for the imperial court, which is more economical and less laborious than the government transporting it itself."

This speech was presented clearly and logically, drawing on classical allusions without being a rigid display of erudition.

Zhou Cong was so engrossed in listening that he couldn't help but stand up and walk to their table, cupping his hands in greeting and saying, "Greetings, gentlemen. I apologize for disturbing you, but your discussions on scholarship were extremely insightful, and I couldn't help but come to ask for your guidance."

"The gentlemen you just mentioned, Mr. Hu, Mr. Zhen, and Mr. Huang, may I ask who these great scholars are? I have studied in the capital for many years and have never heard of these gentlemen. I am truly ignorant."

Several students from Mingdao Academy exchanged glances and laughed.

The scholar surnamed Lin who spoke first stood up and returned the greeting, explaining, "Brother, you're too kind. We're all from Mingdao Academy."

"The academy is located in a small town outside Runzhou City. It's not too far from the capital, but it's a remote place, so it's understandable that you haven't heard of it."

"Although our academy is small, it has five teachers. Each of these five teachers has their own strengths, but they combine their knowledge and skills."

"We students learned a little bit from each of them individually, and only by combining our knowledge could we barely get started."

The more Zhou Cong listened, the more he felt that the academy's teaching methods were extraordinary.

Since ancient times, academy education has taken only two paths.

One type is the official school like the Imperial College, which uses standardized textbooks and exams, producing students who are all cut from the same mold.

Another type was the private schools run by prominent families, which taught their children using their own private collections of classic texts and teaching methods, and outsiders were not allowed to attend.

Mingdao Academy, however, took a completely different approach.

Each of the five teachers has their own strengths, and students can freely choose a specialization based on their own strengths. In addition to their specialization, they also need to learn about the knowledge of the other teachers.

This educational philosophy of teaching according to aptitude, emphasizing both specialization and breadth of knowledge, is remarkably similar to the world religions' admonition to "use talents without being bound by convention."

He then asked the group many questions, ranging from commentaries on the classics to taxation practices, from Neo-Confucianism to grassroots governance, and the conversations became increasingly in-depth.

Those students from Mingdao Academy answered every question without reservation, sharing their knowledge freely and without reservation.

Their knowledge was indeed far superior to that of students from other academies in the surrounding area.

It's not the kind of rote knowledge that just comes from books, but the real ability to analyze and solve problems.

What's even more remarkable is the confidence and composure they exude from the depths of their hearts, a confidence not built on fame and fortune, but nurtured by the scholarship and character of their mentors.

After the poetry gathering ended, he walked slowly back to his residence along Qipan Street, silently reciting the name "Mingdao Academy" all the way.

He would keep this academy in his heart and would definitely visit Runzhou in person when he had the chance.

He also wanted to meet those five division commanders.

An academy capable of producing such students, and five teachers who can integrate practical application of knowledge, commentary on classical texts, philosophical reasoning, practical skills, and basic enlightenment, are by no means simple.