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

Zhao Chongyi took the paper and read it from beginning to end, then remained silent for a long while.

He looked up and handed the paper to another examiner, commenting in a low voice, "This paper is well-organized and rich in data. It doesn't seem like an examination essay, but rather a compilation of essential information from the Ministry of Revenue's archives over the years."

He recalled a man: "Fan Zhongyan, the Duke of Daqian in the previous dynasty, wrote a piece called 'Ten Discussions on Land Tax' when he was a local official. It was in the same style, without showing off his rhetoric or talking about benevolence and righteousness. He only spoke with concrete numbers."

These words were spoken neither too lightly nor too harshly, but the other examiners in the marking room heard them.

Fan Zhongyan was a renowned minister during the Qianlong era, known for his practical abilities. Zhao Chongyi's comparison of this examination paper to Fan Zhongyan speaks volumes about its significance.

Pei Du nodded slightly but did not reply. He simply placed the cinnabar scroll into the "superior" stack.

On the other side of the examination room, another deputy examiner, Zhou Bangyan, the Vice Minister of Rites, was reviewing another examination paper.

Zhou Bangyan was a prized student of Grand Tutor Kong Yan. He was a seventh-rank civil official with exceptional poetic talent and was known for his literary elegance among civil officials.

The policy essay in his vermilion scroll was written in a florid style, beginning with a long and elaborate paragraph in parallel prose, comparing the way to govern a country to the eastward flow of spring water and the growth of all things, with such gorgeous language that it was dazzling.

Zhou Bangyan nodded frequently as he read it, picked up his pen and wrote the four characters "exquisitely written" at the end of the scroll, placing the vermilion scroll in the "superior" category.

Pei Du happened to catch a glimpse of this scene, put down the papers he had just finished grading, and said calmly, "Lord Zhou, the imperial examination is for selecting officials who can get things done, not people who can write poetry. Eloquent writing is certainly good, but if one's policy essays are empty, then one is just a pretty face with no substance."

Zhou Bangyan's expression changed slightly. He was a disciple of Kong Yan and a prominent figure among civil officials.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed by Pei Du's public criticism, but given Pei Du's seniority and official position, he could only offer a weak defense: "Minister Pei, although this essay is not as solid as the one you have, it flows smoothly and all the quotations are well-founded, making it a rare and excellent piece of writing."

Pei Du did not argue with him, but simply handed over the vermilion scroll in his hand.

Zhou Bangyan took the exam paper and glanced at it casually at first. When he saw the policy essay question, his eyebrows twitched slightly.

After reading three lines, the smile on his face disappeared. When he read the "Brief Table of the Current Status of Land Tax in Seven Counties Suburbs of Beijing" in the middle, he involuntarily sat up straight.

He read the entire article in one go and remained silent for a long while. The resentment on his face had mostly subsided, replaced by a complex expression of resignation.

He does indeed prefer eloquent writing, but that doesn't mean he can't distinguish between good and bad.

This essay is so weighty that it would be ranked first in any spring imperial examination.

Compared to this, his own elegant and rhyming strategy essay was indeed like the difference between a vase that can write poetry and a general who can fight battles.

He returned the scroll to Pei Du, cupped his hands in greeting, said "I have learned something," crossed out his original comments, and wrote four new words: "Can be ranked as excellent."

Pei Du said nothing more and continued to read the next scroll.

The candlelight crackled in the examination room as the examiners exchanged comments in hushed tones, each discovery of an outstanding essay causing a small stir.

Pei Du reviewed several unremarkable papers, some of which were filled with allusions and made no sense.

Some of the quotations are just empty words and platitudes.

Some even copied a large section of the memorial submitted by Fan Zhongyan of the previous dynasty, only changing a few words.

He threw the exam paper into the pile of discarded papers on the spot, his tone unusually stern.

As he turned to the next scroll, his gaze swept over the very first sentence of the policy essay, and his pen stopped.

The essay topic of this vermilion document is "On the Essentials of Border Defense: Strengthening the Border and Ensuring the People's Peace."

The opening paragraph does not quote any classics or use elaborate parallel structures; it simply states the core argument of the entire piece in a single sentence.

This argument was so sharp that Pei Du involuntarily sat up straight.

He had read countless memorials about border defense in the Censorate, most of which were old news, nothing more than the same old ideas of "increasing troops," "building cities," and "cultivating land."

But the argument in this article is completely different from those.

What surprised him even more was that the article did not stop at criticizing the status quo, but instead systematically and meticulously developed a framework of countermeasures.

The ratio of military settlements to civilian settlements in the northern border region, the management and resettlement of surrendered Qiang households, and the routes of the tea-horse trade in the western border region.

The integration of the southwestern chieftains, the cost of patrolling the southeastern navy, and the construction of the Japanese pirate intelligence network.

Every countermeasure is specific to the prefecture and county, and every piece of data is accurate to the thousand people and the thousand bushels of grain, as if the author were not writing a policy essay in an examination hall.

Rather, they had just returned from an on-site inspection of the northwestern border, or had been reviewing long-standing archives at the Border Defense Department of the Ministry of War.

Pei Du flipped back to the beginning of the scroll and reread the entire policy essay.

His finger lingered for a long time on the line "The way to secure the borders is not to have more soldiers, but to strengthen the foundation; the way to pacify the people is not to reduce taxes, but to distribute land equally."

This sentence reminded him of Wang You'an, a famous minister of the previous dynasty, Daqian.

Wang Youan presided over the Northwest Military and Civilian Colonization during the reign of Emperor Renzong of the Qianlong Emperor and proposed the strategy of "integrating soldiers and civilians and using the border to support the border".

At the time, there was a huge outcry of opposition in the court, but Wang Youan withstood the pressure and implemented the policy for ten years.

They transformed the perpetually critical northwest defense line into a self-sufficient, impregnable fortress.

When Pei Du read Wang Youan's "Memorial on Military Farming", his deepest impression was that Wang Youan was not explaining the principles, but rather setting up an account book.

This policy essay, while less forceful in its tone than Wang Youan's memorial, shares the same pragmatic foundation and grand vision.

He picked up his pen and wrote a few lines of comments in the blank space at the end of the scroll: "His insight is far-sighted, his arguments are detailed and solid, and the border defense strategies listed are all to the point. The data is accurate, which is beyond the ability of those who only talk about war on paper."

"In particular, the saying 'The way to secure the border is not through a large army, but through a strong foundation' deeply captures the essence of how our predecessors governed the border. It deserves to be ranked first."

After finishing writing, he put down his pen and personally handed the vermilion scroll to Meng Yanlun.

Meng Yanlun took the exam paper and looked at it for a long time. After he finished reading it, he placed the red paper on the top right side of his hand.

Those were the top-tier files reserved by the chief examiner; so far, there are only two of them.

The marking process lasted a full twelve days.

Once the last paper was graded, the seal was removed, and the candidate's name was matched with the corresponding paper.

Three thousand names were passed back and forth among dozens of examiners for verification, with the names being called out one after another.

When the official in charge of verifying the seals called out the three names, his voice was already hoarse: "Su Shi, Wang Anshi, Yao Guangxiao."

These three names were listed at the very top of the list of candidates for the metropolitan examination.

On the day the results of the imperial examination were posted, a light rain fell in the capital.

The notice was crowded with people. Some wept with joy, some left in silence, and some stood on tiptoe to look at it several times before they dared to believe their eyes.

Su Shi stood in the crowd, still holding half a roasted sweet potato in his hand, and saw his name on the list: third place in the imperial examination.

He chuckled twice, then stuffed the rest of the sweet potato into his mouth, chewing until his cheeks were bulging.

Wang Anshi stood next to him and saw his own name: second place in the imperial examination.

His expression didn't change much; he simply exhaled softly and stuffed the well-worn collection of policy essays back into his bookcase.

Yao Guangxiao's name was prominently listed first in the provincial examination, making him the top scholar.

Instead of looking at the list, he sat in his meditation room at the Great Bao'en Temple and read a book called "The Geography of the Great Zhou Dynasty".

The young novice monk ran in, panting, to deliver the good news. He merely nodded slightly, then continued flipping through the book, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.

With the palace examination imminent, the top scholar in the provincial examination is only the first half of the process.

When the news reached the side hall, Zhou Xing was practicing calligraphy at his desk.

Hidden in the lunchbox that Gao Lishi delivered was a note written by Yao Guangxiao, which contained only four characters: "All three will pass."

Zhou Xing lit the paper over the candle flame, watching it turn to ashes in the bronze dish. Then he picked up a brush and wrote the two characters "Metropolitan Examination" on the Xuan paper in front of him, and drew three circles next to them.

Waiting patiently for the flowers to bloom, three flowers have already opened.

Next came the palace examination.

The emperor personally questioned him; that was the battle that truly determined their fate.

But before that, there is one more thing to do.

He turned to the last page of the self-made booklet, marked the rankings of Yao Guangxiao, Wang Anshi, and Su Shi in the imperial examinations next to their names, then closed the booklet and looked out the window.

The rain stopped, and the new leaves of the old locust tree shone brightly after being washed by the rain. Several sparrows chirped and chattered on the branches.

The questions for the palace examination were, by convention, drafted by the emperor himself, but the Grand Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs would submit suggested questions for the emperor's reference in advance.

Zhao Gao happened to be working at the Directorate of Ceremonial.