Governing the country, enriching the people, an unparalleled imperial tutor

The interviews lasted all day. Some people came in so nervous that their palms were sweating and they could barely hold their pens; some answered fluently, but became vague when asked about specific procedures; and a few people looked around nervously as soon as they entered, clearly there to get the job done—Lin Yanzhou could tell these people just by reading their minds, so he had the clerk next to him write down "not to be hired for the time being" and politely asked them to leave.

One of the candidates, dressed in a silk robe, entered and, without answering the questions, asked, "May I ask, Imperial Preceptor, if I am accepted, what rank will I hold?"

Lin Yanzhou didn't look up: "Answer the questions first."

The man lowered his head, picked up his pen, looked at the three questions, then looked up and asked, "This humble official is skilled in criminal law, but not in agriculture or water conservancy—"

Lin Yanzhou put down his pen: "You wrote 'unauthorized use of criminal law' on your answer sheet, but there weren't any questions related to criminal law among the three questions. You didn't even finish reading the questions before asking about rank?"

The man opened his mouth, but no words came out. Lin Yanzhou said, "You can leave now."

After he walked out, everyone in line at the gate stared at him. He walked quickly across the courtyard with his head down, his face flushed, and disappeared through the moon gate as the wind blew on his clothes. Someone in the line asked in a low voice, "What happened?" The person in front shook his head and said, "He was asked to leave." The people behind him all looked at their drafts again without prior arrangement.

What kind of methods are these? It seems really different. The legendary immortal is indeed an immortal, something I've never seen before!

The next person to enter was a thin old man wearing an old cotton robe, with gray hair. Lin Yanzhou glanced at his resume—Li Shouzhou, fifty-three years old, had taught at a private school in a county in Jiangnan for twenty years, but lost his job because he offended a local gentry by raising tuition fees for his students.

Lin Yanzhou passed the Education Department's questions to the old man. After looking at the first question, the old man looked up and asked, "Sir, may I answer in vernacular Chinese? I can't write those classical Chinese prose pieces."

"Yes." Lin Yanzhou replied confidently without even looking up. "I don't find it difficult to understand you speaking in plain language."

The old man bowed his head and wrote for the time it takes to burn an incense stick. When he handed it in, the paper was covered with dense writing. At the end of the last question, he wrote a sentence: "Let children read, first let them understand what they read. If they can't understand it, reading it for ten years is a waste of time."

Lin Yanzhou folded the page and put it in the box: "Mr. Li, the Education Department is short of someone to compile textbooks. Why don't you come?"

The old man stood up, dusted off his old cotton robe, and bowed: "When does it start?"

"You can go report tomorrow."

"This is a great blessing for all students, and a great blessing for the future of our dynasty. The Imperial Preceptor is truly a divine being." After saying this, he turned and left.

As the interviews progressed to noon, the sun climbed over the courtyard wall, and the shadow under the east courtyard corridor shrank into a narrow strip. After Chen Shi left, the candidates lined up and came in one by one. The stack of answer sheets in front of Lin Yanzhou grew higher and higher, and the number of offer letters in the box also increased. At the same time, people were constantly being asked to leave with "temporary non-employment" notices.

The fifth person to enter was a man in his thirties, wearing a new indigo robe with a stiffened collar. He had a jade pendant of decent quality but with tacky carving hanging from his waist, and a white jade thumb ring on his left thumb. After entering, he first looked around, his gaze sweeping over the simple table and chairs, the table without an incense burner, and the short-haired middle-aged man in a black short jacket sitting behind the table. His brows furrowed slightly.

"I am Sun Degui, a commoner from Jiangnan. My father has been in the salt and tea business in Jiangnan for more than 20 years and has long-standing ties with several important people in the capital..." As he spoke, he prepared to place a visiting card on the table.

Lin Yanzhou didn't look at the visiting card, but pushed the three questions over: "Answer the questions first. They're with me. I won't look at the others."

Sun Degui accepted the visiting card and looked down at the questions. There were three questions: one was about calculating the distribution of military provisions at the border; another was about how to handle disputes over the encroachment of public land by local gentry; and the third was about how to quickly resettle displaced people after an outbreak of plague in a certain area. He looked at them for a moment, then picked up his pen and began to write. After writing for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, he handed over his answer sheet.

Lin Yanzhou glanced at the answers. For the question about military rations, he wrote, "According to the system of the nine provinces in the *Yu Gong*, the rations were transported via four routes," without specifying quantities or route plans. For the question about gentry encroaching on public land, he wrote, "The relevant officials should be asked to verify the land deeds and punish them according to the law," without mentioning how to prevent gentry from forging land deeds or how to appease displaced farmers. The question about plague relief was even more blank: only eight characters—"Open the granaries and distribute grain, administer medicine and treatment"—followed by a long passage of classical allusions, such as, "The *Book of Rites* says: 'What the people desire, Heaven will surely grant.'"

Lin Yanzhou placed the answer sheet on the table: "Sun Degui, let me ask you a question. When transporting military rations from Jiangnan to the Northwest border, switching from waterway to land, how much loss was incurred along the way? When the grain ships passed through the Sanmenxia Gorge, were they pulled by porters or hauled by winches? If the river swelled during the rainy season, were there any alternative routes?"

Sun Degui opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"The local gentry have embezzled public land; the forged land deeds they've made are definitely newer than the genuine ones—the ink and paper are different. Do you have any way to verify this on the spot?"

Sun Degui's face began to turn pale: "This... I thought it could be sent to the Ministry of Justice for examination..."

"Alright, the Ministry of Justice will conduct the inspection. During this inspection period, where will the displaced farmers live and what will they eat? Those three hundred mu of land were seized, their harvest was cut off. By the time the Ministry of Justice finishes verifying the land deeds and returns the land, will half of them have already starved to death?"

Sun Degui's fingers began to tremble.

"Regarding the question about the plague and refugees," Lin Yanzhou said, "you wrote eight characters: 'Open the granaries and distribute food, administer medicine and provide treatment.' Let me ask you: Where will the medicine come from? Where will the doctors be sourced? If those hundreds of refugees are all crowded at the city gate, how will you prevent the disease from spreading among the crowd? Should you treat the patients first or distribute food first? If the order is wrong, the death toll could be three times higher."

Sun Degui finally lowered his head, a thin layer of sweat beading on his forehead.

Lin Yanzhou pushed the answer sheet back in front of him, his voice neither loud nor soft: "When you came in, you said your father had close ties with several high-ranking officials in the capital. But this is Xuan Shuo, not a salt and tea shop in Jiangnan. The old ways of getting an official position based on family background and connections, or by relying on a few lines of classical Chinese prose, no longer work. You may leave."

As Sun Degui stood up, the white jade thumb ring struck the corner of the table with a crisp sound. He reached out to steady it, but missed, and the ring rolled down the table to the blue brick floor, bounced once, and rolled to the threshold. He didn't bend down to pick it up; instead, he lowered his head and strode out. The hem of his indigo robe tripped on the threshold, causing him to stumble but regain his balance before disappearing outside the courtyard gate.

Among the crowd queuing under the eaves, several candidates from impoverished backgrounds exchanged glances. A young man in an old blue cloth shirt suddenly straightened his back. Although he didn't say anything, the person next to him noticed that his grip on the draft paper loosened considerably.