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

March 15th, the 23rd year of Yonghe.

The invitation from the Grand Tutor's residence to the newly appointed third-ranked scholar, Su Shi, to visit was written by Kong Yan himself.

The post contained only a few words.

"I have long admired Su Shi's poetry, which is renowned throughout the capital. Tomorrow afternoon, I will prepare a cup of tea at my residence and invite you to discuss poetry and literature with me."

There was no official title, no formalities, and it was simply signed "Kong Yan bows respectfully" at the end.

When Su Shi received the letter, he was in his office at the Hanlin Academy, flipping through a collection of poems from a previous dynasty.

He examined the post three times, then looked up at Wang Anshi at the next table and said, "Grand Tutor's calligraphy is better than mine."

Wang Anshi didn't even look up, and replied, "The Grand Tutor is a ninth-rank scholar, while you are a third-rank scholar. If his calligraphy is inferior to yours, then the literary system of the Great Zhou should be overturned and rebuilt."

Su Shi laughed heartily, tucked the invitation into his robes, and stood up to straighten his clothes.

He ran into Yao Guangxiao in the corridor as he was leaving, and waved the invitation in his hand.

Yao Guangxiao glanced at it and said only four words: "Perform well."

His tone was so calm, it was as if he were instructing his junior brother to return a book to the library.

The flower hall of the Grand Tutor's Mansion was exactly as Su Shi had imagined.

There were no gold, silver, or jade artifacts, no calligraphy or paintings by famous artists, only walls covered with books.

On the rosewood bookshelf on the east wall, books ranging from the Analects to the Great Zhou Code are neatly arranged.

A painting titled "Landscape in Mist and Rain" hangs on the west wall, and a large huanghuali wood table sits under the south window, on which lies a copy of "Mencius" with its pages turned to the margins.

There was a pair of reading glasses next to it.

Kong Yan sat behind his desk, dressed in a slightly worn blue scholar's robe, his hand holding the string of black jade prayer beads he never parted with. His demeanor was as amiable as that of a retired old tutor.

When Su Shi entered, he bowed deeply to the ground and said, "Student Su Shi pays respects to the Grand Tutor."

Kong Yan waved his hand, gesturing for him to sit down. Then he took off his reading glasses and placed them on the table, sizing up the young man who was famous throughout the capital.

Today, Su Shi is wearing the blue official robes of the Hanlin Academy, with a black horn belt around his waist, and his clothes are neat and tidy.

But the unrestrained and spirited look between his brows could not be concealed, and the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, as if he was always brewing the next witty and interesting verse.

Kong Yan observed for a while, then suddenly asked, "Zizhan, how have you been doing at the Hanlin Academy these past few days?"

"I'm quite used to it," Su Shi replied with a smile. "I have books to read, tea to drink, and meat to eat. It's much better than when I was staying at the Great Bao'en Temple."

Kong Yan nodded slightly, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and suddenly changed the subject: "Who was your poem 'Butterfly Loves Flowers,' with the line 'Affectionate yet troubled by indifference,' written for?"

Su Shi was taken aback.

He has been asked this question by countless people, and each time he has just laughed it off.

But Kong Yan was not the kind of person who could be fooled with a laugh.

He put down his teacup and replied solemnly, "Reporting to the Grand Tutor, it wasn't written for anyone in particular. It was written at the Yuyuantan Flower Viewing Banquet, when I saw people walking outside the wall while swinging on a swing inside."

"It suddenly occurred to me that so many things in life are separated by a wall; those who want to get in can't, and those who want to get out can't get out."

Kong Yan was silent for a moment, then nodded slightly and said, "Many things in life are separated by a wall. You spent a few days in the Hanlin Academy, but did you ever think that the Hanlin Academy is also a wall? You are inside the wall, but the world is outside."

Su Shi's smile faded slightly.

He understood the implied meaning in Kong Yan's words.

The Grand Tutor wasn't talking to him about poetry; he was talking to him about his aspirations.

In his previous life, he was demoted to Huangzhou in the Wutai Poetry Case and exiled to the malaria-ridden land of Hainan for six years.

I know all too well how high the wall is in one's career.

He paused for a moment, then raised his head and looked directly into Kong Yan's eyes, his tone unusually solemn and frank: "Grand Tutor, I dare not boast, but I have only two wishes in my life."

"The two wishes of writing articles that can be passed down through the ages and being an official who is worthy of the people are neither inside nor outside the wall, but in the hearts of the younger generation. The wall can block the body, but it cannot block the heart."

Kong Yan picked up his teacup and sipped slowly, seemingly savoring the weight of Su Shi's words.

The flower hall remained quiet for a long time, with only the rustling of bamboo leaves in the spring breeze outside the window.

He put down his teacup, slowly stood up, and walked to the painting "Landscape in Mist and Rain" on the west wall, where he stood with his hands behind his back.

With his back to Su Shi, his voice was much lower than before, as if every word was squeezed out from the depths of his chest.

"I am sixty-five years old this year and have been in office for forty years. I cannot say that my students and former subordinates are all over the country, but I can say that I have a large number of students in this court."

His voice echoed in the quiet flower hall, carrying a profound sense of vicissitude that could only be mellowed by the trials and tribulations of life.

"When I accept disciples, I don't ask about their background or their talent; I only ask about two things: integrity and character."

"Zizhan, your talent needs no further proof. Your poems have spread throughout the country, and even the old scholars at the Imperial Academy say behind your back, 'Su Zizhan's talent is rare in a hundred years.'"

"I only have one question for you today: are you willing to become my last disciple?"

Su Shi was startled and looked up at Kong Yan's thin back.

The smile on his face had completely disappeared, replaced by a solemnity he had never shown to outsiders before.

He did not answer immediately, but stood up from his chair and straightened his clothes.

Then he knelt down properly, placed his hands on the ground, and touched his forehead to the cold blue bricks.

He didn't utter any grand, polite words, but instead spoke slowly in an extremely respectful yet unyielding tone: "Grand Tutor, I dare not presume upon my own talent."

"The person I admire most in my life is not the poet or the lyricist, but someone like Fan Zhongyan, who was the first to worry about the world's troubles and the last to enjoy its pleasures."

"If the Grand Tutor does not despise my humble origins, I am willing to treat him with the respect due to a disciple for the rest of my life."

Kong Yan turned around and looked down at the young man kneeling on the ground.

He has taken in countless disciples and heard countless pleas of apprenticeship, some passionate, some tearful, and some eager to show their loyalty.

Su Shi's words contained neither a boast of his own talent nor a flattery of the Grand Tutor's prestige.

He only said one thing: he wanted to become a person like Fan Zhongyan.

This openness, this self-awareness, this character that remains childlike even after achieving worldwide fame—these are precisely the qualities that Kong Yan valued most.

He bent down and helped Su Shi up, a rare smile appearing in his eyes. His tone carried the expectation and solemnity of an elder to a junior: "From this day forward, you will be my last disciple. Everything I have learned in my life that I can pass on to you will be passed on to you."

"But there is one condition: once you become my disciple, you do not need to learn my way of dealing with people. You, Su Zizhan, should be who you are."

"I have no shortage of obsequious disciples, but the court lacks a Su Zizhan who dares to speak the truth."

Su Shi's eyes welled up slightly.

He didn't let his tears fall, but bowed deeply again, responding silently to the Grand Tutor's expectations with the most solemn courtesy a disciple would show to his master.

Kong Yan sat back down at his desk, picked up his teacup, and gently stirred the floating tea leaves with the lid. His tone returned to its usual slow and deliberate manner: "Since you are now my disciple, then I will not stand on ceremony."

"In your essay for the palace examination, you wrote, 'The world does not belong to one person, but to all people.' While this statement is correct, sentiment outweighs reason."

"In the way of literary cultivation, the greatest taboo is letting emotions override reason. You have cultivated a righteous spirit for over twenty years, possessing abundant talent and profound knowledge, yet you remain stuck at the third rank, unable to break through. Do you know why?"

Su Shi sat up straight and shook his head.

He really didn't know.

He read countless books and wrote numerous poems, his heart overflowing with righteous spirit, but he just couldn't cross the threshold from the third to the fourth rank.

The eldest prince was present at the conversation about the method at the Grand Tutor's mansion, but he was not, so he still doesn't know that a literary cultivator needs a method to break through to the fourth rank.

Seeing his confused expression, Kong Yan slowly explained the biggest difference between literary and martial cultivation.

Martial arts training requires hard work, with each step involving a bow.

Literary cultivation is about enlightenment, which requires a catalyst.

This opportunity wasn't something I learned in my study; it was something I forged in my heart.

Those who are below the third rank only need to study the classics and cultivate a righteous spirit.

However, a special method is needed to advance from the third to the fourth rank.

Without the right method, even if you cultivate your inner energy your whole life, it's just like wine sealed in a jar, never to be poured out.

This method is passed down only among aristocratic families and lineages, never written down.

This is why scholars from poor families, even after years of studying, can never pass the fourth rank.

It's not that they didn't try hard enough; it's that the door was locked from the outside.

Su Shi finally understood when he heard this.

No wonder he has read so many books and written so many poems in his past and present lives; his righteous spirit is so abundant that even he himself feels overwhelmed.

But every time I try to break through to the fourth rank, I always feel like there's a thin layer of paper between us, something I can't break through or touch.

He experienced various injustices and resentments in his previous life during his career in the imperial examinations.

The tension that constantly shifted between the high halls of power and the remote corners of the world suddenly found a clear explanation.

What he lacks is not experience, but the key.