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

He smiled and bowed deeply to Daoyan and Wang Anshi. Although his expression was light, his tone was unusually solemn: "Making friends through poetry and literature, I was familiar with the literary circles of the capital in my previous life, and I will be no different in this one."

"The three are one: Jie Fu charges forward in the open, Senior Brother Dao Yan lays the groundwork in the shadows, and I, in the half-open and half-closed space, cheer for you and win over the hearts of the people for His Highness."

"After the imperial examinations, I will invite you both to a celebratory drink. No, Your Highness, please join me."

When he said this, the playful and sarcastic expression on his face returned, but Dao Yan could tell that he was not joking.

This seemingly carefree and unrestrained talented man harbors far more in his heart than anyone else can see.

His past life was full of hardships, but he never changed his magnanimous nature. This quality of being able to maintain his true feelings in any situation is the rarest among the three of them.

Wang Anshi returned the greeting to Daoyan with his palms together, then turned and went down the stone steps.

His figure quickly disappeared into the shadows of the peach grove, his steps firm and steady, each step making a rustling sound on the gravel, as if he had begun to measure the long road from Wangjiazhuang to the imperial court in the capital.

Su Shi stood in the pavilion for a while, looking up at the bright moon in the sky that was not yet full. Suddenly, he recited a line of poetry in a low voice, then smiled, shook his head, and turned to go down the mountain.

The poem was carried by the night wind and drifted through the peach grove; Daoyan only vaguely heard the second half of it.

"The most delightful taste in life is simple joy."

Dao Yan remained alone in the stone pavilion, watching the two figures disappear into the distance at the end of the peach grove.

The lights in the temples at the foot of the mountain gradually went out, and the chanting of evening prayers had stopped. Only the occasional sound of the watchman's clapper echoed lonely through the valley.

He unfolded the two booklets that Wang Anshi handed him.

An outline of policy proposals and a plan for the expansion of the academy.

I gazed at it for a long time in the dim moonlight of the pavilion, and the more I looked, the more I felt that the immortal's arrangement had a profound meaning.

Wang Anshi's sharpness, Su Shi's eloquence, and his profoundness are just like the three strings of a bow.

Too tight and it will break easily; too loose and it will be powerless. Only when the three strings are taut together can the most powerful arrow be shot.

He carefully tucked the two booklets into his sleeve, glanced up at the half-full moon in the sky, clasped his hands in prayer, and then turned and slowly descended the stone steps.

His black monk's robes fluttered slightly in the night breeze, and the moonlight cast his shadow long and thin.

Back in his meditation room, he lit the oil lamp, laid out paper and pen, and began to organize the key points of the day's conversation, planning every step of his actions for next year's imperial examination.

He first wrote down the preparation plan for the Spring Examination, with each item specified in detail, including the exact time, the specific person, and the specific location.

Then he dug out the data on the villages surrounding Wangjiazhuang, carefully compared the population, land, and tax situation of each village, and made detailed plans for every step of the college's expansion.

It was late at night when he finished organizing everything. On the last page, he wrote down the names of three people, marked their areas of expertise below each name, and then drew several intersecting lines connecting the three names.

The Ninth Prince Zhou Xing's name was written above the three names.

The flame of the oil lamp flickered slightly. He brought the paper close to the lamp and lit it, watching it slowly turn to ashes.

The ashes fell into the bronze plate on the table. He tapped the edge of the plate three times, each tap precise and firm.

Next year's spring imperial examination will be their first.

The next day, the morning bell of the Great Bao'en Temple rang as usual, the mountain gate opened as usual, and pilgrims arrived as usual.

The monk in charge of receiving guests saw Daoyan from afar in front of the Sutra Repository and wanted to go up and exchange a few words, but Daoyan had already turned around and walked into the meditation room, closing the door behind him.

He sat at his desk and carefully annotated Wang Anshi's policy outline from beginning to end. Then he took out a new sheet of paper and began to draft a plan for Su Shi's poetry and prose dissemination before the imperial examinations.

Every suggestion—whether it's about where to appear in public, which literary figures to associate with, and when to publish poems in what style—is well-supported by extensive research and supported by evidence.

At the end of the signature, he paused, not writing his Dharma name, but instead wrote three characters: Yao Guangxiao.

The three characters were left on the paper, the ink still wet, gleaming faintly in the morning light.

Meanwhile, Su Shi had already left the mountain gate and was strolling along Chunxi Street.

Today he wore a freshly washed blue robe, and in his hand he still carried the folding fan he never parted with. He would stop from time to time to listen to the idle chatter of passersby, and chime in with a few words when he came across an interesting topic.

When he passed by the newly opened Heshengyuan branch at the entrance of Chunxi Street, he stopped and looked at it for a while. Looking at the three gilded characters "Heshengyuan" on the brand-new signboard, a hint of amusement flashed in his eyes.

He already had some reputation in the literary circles of the capital. Today, he was on his way to a poetry gathering when he passed by this place and realized that this was the business that Daoyan had mentioned in the peach grove stone pavilion.

He gently waved his folding fan and stepped inside. A young shop assistant was unloading goods from a mule cart. He turned around and their eyes met. The assistant then bent down, dusted off the dirt on his clothes, and retreated into the shop.

Su Shi didn't ask any further questions. He wandered around the shop, bought two reams of Xuan paper, and left.

In Wangjiazhuang, on the eastern outskirts of Beijing, Wang Anshi also got up very early.

He walked back to Wangjiazhuang from Dabaoen Temple late last night, and after sleeping for less than two hours, he got up again.

He first went to the private school at the village entrance to teach the children two classes, and then tidied up the school affairs in the afternoon.

In his previous life, when he presided over the Xining Reform, he was known for his strict self-discipline. Now, he remembers every expense of the estate clearly.

A few days later, he learned by chance from the village head that news was circulating that school-age children in his village and several nearby villages had no books to read and that the academy would be expanded with funding from local gentry.

He opened the booklet in his hand, lightly circled the words "gentry sponsorship" with charcoal, and then continued to teach without saying anything more.

The three of them went their separate ways and made their own preparations.

After their gathering in the peach grove, they never appeared together in public again, but all three knew that the next time they would meet would be for the imperial examinations the following spring.

That was their true battlefield, and also the first move they made for the Ninth Prince.