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

The day of the palace examination.

After the morning bell tolled five times, the east began to lighten with the first light of dawn.

Outside the Meridian Gate of the Imperial City, three hundred newly appointed scholars had already straightened their clothes and lined up to wait.

Most of them had never set foot in the palace before, and now they stood beneath its majestic walls.

Looking up at the red dragon flag fluttering in the morning breeze on the gate tower, some people turned pale, some had sweat on their foreheads, and some had burning eyes.

Su Shi stood in the middle of the queue, looking up slightly at the glazed tiles on the gate tower that shimmered like golden scales in the morning light, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Wang Anshi stood to his left front, his eyes fixed straight ahead, his back ramrod straight, and his hands hanging properly at his sides.

Yao Guangxiao stood at the front of the line.

The glory of being the top scholar made his position indisputable, but his face showed neither smug excitement nor feigned humility; he simply stood calmly.

My gaze passed over the deep archway of the Meridian Gate and looked toward the distant, layered palaces.

At the exact hour of Mao (5-7 AM), the Meridian Gate is wide open.

Two squads of imperial guards, halberds in hand, marched out and lined up on either side of the passageway.

The master of ceremonies from the Ministry of Rites loudly announced the names of the three hundred candidates, who filed in single file, crossed the Golden Water Bridge, passed through the Chengtian Gate, and were arranged according to their examination rankings on the white marble square in front of the Taiji Hall.

On both sides of the square stood civil and military officials. On the left, the civil officials were led by Kong Yan, followed by Pei Du, with the ministers of the six ministries, the censors of the Censorate, and the academicians of the Hanlin Academy arranged in order.

On the right, the military commanders are led by Grand Commandant Zhou Jing, followed by the four marquises, and then the commanders of the three major camps of the Imperial Guard.

On the steps in front of the Taiji Hall, Emperor Wu of Zhou, Zhou Qian, sat on the dragon throne. The jade ornaments hanging from his twelve-tassel crown covered most of his face, revealing only his sharply defined jawline.

The imperial examination was a solemn and lengthy process.

Officials from the Ministry of Rites burned incense and played music, and three hundred tribute students performed the grand ceremony of three kneelings and nine kowtows to the emperor before entering the hall and taking their seats.

The examination papers were already neatly laid out, with a Duan inkstone, a purple brush, and a stack of plain white Xuan paper on each paper.

Today's palace examination consists of only one essay question, the topic of which was personally set by the emperor.

Zhou Qian slowly rose from the dragon throne, his gaze sweeping over the three hundred young faces in the hall, and slowly spoke.

His voice wasn't loud, but the inner energy of a ninth-rank martial artist ensured that every word was clearly delivered to everyone's ears: "Today, we will discuss the question: What is the way of the king? How should we govern the world? You may all express your opinions, and I will read them personally."

After speaking, he sat down again, his slight sway concealing his expression.

Under the test of curly hair, the three hundred candidates bowed their heads at the same time.

Su Shi's fingers paused slightly as he unfolded the examination paper.

This topic is too broad, so broad that you can write about anything, and so broad that you don't know where to begin.

"What is the way of the king? How to govern the world?"

This is the most fundamental proposition of Confucianism. Countless sages throughout the ages have written books on this topic, and it is almost impossible to write something new in the imperial examination.

He didn't rush to write. Instead, he closed his eyes and repeatedly pondered a sentence that Daoyan had said in the meditation room of the Great Bao'en Temple.

The palace examination did not test academic knowledge, but rather character and magnanimity.

He opened his eyes, picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and wrote the first sentence on the draft paper: "The way of the king is not the way of the world; the world belongs to all."

The moment the pen touched the paper, a sudden enlightenment dawned on me.

The magnanimity and compassion honed by his past life's trials and tribulations—including the Wutai Poetry Case, his exile to Huangzhou, and his banishment to Hainan—are now fully expressed in his writing.

He wrote that the true path to benevolence lies not in high-ranking sermons, but in the everyday life of ordinary people.

The key to governing the world lies not in harsh laws and severe punishments, but in ensuring that the people have food, clothing, and dignity.

He wrote about the hardships of the people he witnessed firsthand during his travels.

An old farmer sighed as he looked up at the sky on the parched, cracked ridges of his field; a weaver's hair turned white from exhaustion in front of the looms forcibly requisitioned by the government; and border soldiers guarded the passes in the wind and snow, wearing worn-out military boots.

He didn't pile up allusions or show off his vocabulary; he simply used the plainest language to lay out the scenes on the paper.

The article concludes with the sentence, "The world does not belong to one person, but to all people."

After finishing writing, he put down his pen, let out a long breath, and felt that this article might be worth all the insights he had gained from half a lifetime of wandering in his previous life.

Wang Anshi sat not far away, his pen moving like a knife.

His policy essay begins without a single polite word, directly stating the core of the entire essay.

"The way of the king is not an empty ideal, but a practical system."

This first sentence is completely different from the traditional Confucian discourse on the Way of the King, as it does not discuss human nature or morality, but directly addresses the issue from the perspective of the system.

Then he changed the subject, pointing out that the Great Zhou Dynasty had been established for three hundred years, but its laws and regulations had become increasingly lax and its accumulated problems had deepened. The current problem of the Great Zhou Dynasty was not external enemies, but internal neglect.

Unequal land taxes led to a shrinking tax base, rampant corruption by officials caused widespread public discontent, and delayed military pay resulted in the neglect of border defenses.

Each question hits the nail on the head, followed by specific reform plans for each one.

Regarding land tax, the Square Field Equal Tax Law was implemented, and the land area nationwide was surveyed and tax was determined according to the fertility of the land.

In terms of governance, redundant staff will be dismissed, salaries will be increased, corruption will be severely punished, and an assessment and accountability system will be established.

In military terms, the military settlements were reorganized to support the border areas and reduce reliance on supplies from the interior.

The entire essay is devoid of any ornate embellishments; every sentence is like a knife, precisely cutting into the lesion.

He even attached a reform timetable he had drafted, detailing the implementation steps in three phases: three years, five years, and ten years.

It was as if this was not an exam essay, but a draft policy program.

Yao Guangxiao sat in the most prominent position in the front row, his pen moving with remarkable steadiness.

His policy proposals lacked Su Shi's compassionate sentiments and Wang Anshi's pioneering spirit.

Instead, it starts with the general trend of history.

A core idea can be extracted from the rise and fall of dynasties: the key to benevolent rule lies in adapting to the times, and the way to govern the world lies in combining firmness and flexibility.

He pointed out the key issues from four dimensions: land tax, border defense, official administration, and the imperial examination system, using just a few words for each.

Then it concludes with the sentence, "The great Zhou dynasty's rule lies not in restoring the past, nor in maintaining the status quo, but in innovating."

The entire essay is not long, but every paragraph is insightful and penetrating, revealing a calm and composed understanding of the world.

It was as if this was not a test taker answering an exam, but a strategist who had already reached the pinnacle of power planning a blueprint for a new dynasty.

The palace examination lasted for a full three hours. By the time the last exam paper was collected, it was already afternoon.

Guided by officials from the Ministry of Rites, the three hundred scholars exited the Taiji Hall and crossed the square. Some were still whispering about their policy proposals.

Some people silently wiped the sweat from their foreheads, while others staggered and needed to hold onto their companions to walk steadily.

Su Shi let out a long breath as he walked out of the Meridian Gate. He turned to look at Wang Anshi, whose face was expressionless, but the knuckles of his fingers gripping the book box were white.

He looked at Yao Guangxiao again, who was looking up at the sky above the palace wall, a faint smile on his lips, as if he had seen through everything.

Su Shi couldn't help but ask, "Brother Daoyan, what are you laughing at?"

Yao Guangxiao withdrew his gaze and said calmly, "It's nothing, I just feel that the color of the sky is different from when I entered the examination hall."