Becoming a literary master starting from the story of Minglan

Chapter 532 The Imperial Examination (Part 4)

"Dang——dang——dang——"

The deep, melodious, solemn sound of the Jingyang Bell rang out from the depths of the palace, piercing through the morning mist and spreading to every corner of the palace, clearly striking the hearts of every tribute scholar waiting below the steps.

The voice seemed to possess some kind of magic, making the already solemn atmosphere even more stagnant, and even breathing unconsciously became lighter.

The three chimes of the bell signified that the emperor's carriage had begun to move and that he was about to ascend the throne.

In an instant, the entire imperial steps fell into a deathly silence, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, as if even the wind had wisely stopped its rustling.

The civil and military officials, dressed in court robes of various ranks, had already stood solemnly on both sides according to their order of rank, like silent sculptures, but each of them had their own thoughts.

Among this group of nobles, Sheng Hong, a senior official in the Ministry of Works, stood at the back, wearing a blue heron-patterned court robe of a fifth-rank official.

He tried to maintain a calm expression, attempting to project the composed demeanor of a scholar. However, his slightly trembling fingers, unsure of where to place them, and his eyes, which were constantly drawn to His Majesty's group of scholars in blue robes and filled with almost overflowing anxiety and expectation, completely betrayed the turmoil within him.

"My son, you must stay calm..."

He silently prayed, as if this would transmit strength and good fortune to his son from afar.

If his wife, Madam Wang, who is straightforward and can't keep a secret, were to see this scene, she would surely laugh at him, saying, "He's usually so eloquent in disciplining his children, but when it comes to himself, he's like a headless fly."

Sheng Changbai, on the other hand, wore a more refined seventh-rank official robe with a blue quail-patterned embroidered patch and stood in the Hanlin Academy's queue, in a slightly better position than his father.

His face was calm, his eyes were lowered, and he seemed as still as a deep well, much like his maternal grandfather, the dignified and solemn Old Master Wang.

However, his slightly tense jawline, with lines that appeared colder and harder than usual, resembled a fine crack on a rock, revealing that he was not entirely relaxed and was also silently watching his seventh brother, who was "silent until he made a name for himself," as he was about to face this major test.

However, the atmosphere was more subtle at the front of the civil officials' procession, near the throne.

With his white hair and beard and a gaunt face, Grand Secretary Han Zhang stood tall and imposing, like a pillar of strength, representing the steady power of the upright civil officials and the powerful tree that the Sheng family now relied on in the court.

Not far behind him stood an official in his forties, with a handsome face and a somewhat profound demeanor. He was Xiao Qinyan, who had recently entered the cabinet and was enjoying the emperor's favor, but was also being subtly ostracized by old-school cabinet ministers such as Han Zhang.

He wore a scarlet peacock-patterned official robe and stood at the end of the group of Grand Secretaries. His position was quite clever, allowing him to hear the imperial edict clearly without being too conspicuous. His gaze calmly swept over the scholars in the hall, his pupils holding an unfathomable depth, like a cold pool.

Hundreds of newly appointed scholars stood in orderly rows before His Majesty Dan, awaiting the moment that would decide their fate.

This group of young people can be described as "varied". Some were so nervous that their faces turned pale and their lips trembled, while others tried to remain calm but their palms were actually sweating.

Immediately afterwards, a clear and penetrating voice rang out from inside the Zichen Palace, echoing long and deep. Every word seemed to be uttered with all its might, ensuring that everyone outside the palace could hear it clearly:
"Your Majesty, please ascend the throne—"

After a brief pause, allowing the invisible pressure to spread, then:

"All officials pay homage—"

The hall immediately resounded with a unified, thunderous chant of worship: "Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!"

The combined sound waves, almost tangible, pierced through the palace doors, making eardrums buzz and hearts pound. Many young scholars trembled at the sight.

Then, the announcement of the imperial examination results rose again, carrying the solemnity of announcing a historic moment: "Announce—the successful candidates of the Bingchen year—to enter the palace for an audience—!"

The official in charge of ceremonies stepped forward to signal, and under the meticulous and almost rigid guidance of the officials from the Court of State Ceremonial, the candidates once again straightened their already neat attire, held their breath, and followed the strict etiquette that they had practiced countless times and which had almost become muscle memory, entering the Zichen Hall in an orderly manner, which symbolized supreme glory and the ultimate test.

The feeling was as if I were not entering a palace, but stepping into a piece of history that was about to be written.

Sheng Changquan walked steadily up the cool, smooth, almost reflective white marble steps toward the palace gate, which exuded both brilliance and majesty.

He could feel Yuan Shen's deliberately adjusted, almost silent, elegant steps not far behind him, and couldn't help but mutter to himself, "This Yuan Shanjian, he never forgets his manners."

At the same time, he could also catch a glimpse of Wang Youchen's powerful stride to the side, with the decisiveness and efficiency characteristic of a military family, as if he were not going to take an exam, but to the command platform.

As for Chen Jingshen, he was just as unchanging as ever.

His steps were measured and precise, each step as if measured with a ruler, leaving no room for error, just like his solid knowledge.

The scene inside the hall was even more magnificent than imagined.

The ground is paved with gold bricks, so shiny they reflect light like a mirror. Huge golden pillars with coiled dragons stand tall, as if supporting the entire sky. The ceiling is painted with intricate and exquisite caissons, with brilliant colors and lifelike details.

The throne sits high above, reflecting the morning light at a particular angle, making it almost too bright to look directly at.

On both sides stood high-ranking civil and military officials, nobles and relatives, and palace guards carrying gleaming ceremonial weapons, each with an expressionless face, like Vajras in a temple.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of ambergris and sandalwood, this "royal scent" added a touch of mystery and majesty, and made those who smelled it for the first time feel a little dizzy.

Sheng Changquan's intuition was exceptionally sharp; he could clearly feel the attention directed at him by his father and brothers.

Especially his father, Sheng Hong, whose gaze was so intense it felt like a searchlight welded onto him, making his back burn. He chuckled inwardly, "Father, if you keep staring like that, you're going to see two holes in my robe."

Of course, he kept in mind the etiquette and dared not look back, but instead transformed the expectations of his family into a calmer state of mind.

After the tribute scholars entered the palace, they knelt down at designated locations on both sides of the imperial road, following instructions, and performed the most solemn three kneelings and nine kowtows ceremony, while shouting "Long live the Emperor!"

Throughout the entire process, no one dared to make a mistake; their movements were so synchronized that they seemed to be performed by the same person, creating an atmosphere that was both solemn and oppressive.

Many of the candidates had beads of sweat on their foreheads, and some even had slight cramps in their calves.

Following the methods in the "Imperial Audience Ritual" personally taught by his elder brother Sheng Changbai, Sheng Changquan regulated his breathing, cleared his mind of all distractions, and performed each movement to the extreme. He exuded a sense of awe for imperial power and the solemnity of a scholar, appearing more composed than many others.

"Everyone is safe."

A calm, steady voice, yet carrying a natural majesty and undeniable power, came from the direction of the throne. It was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"

The scholars dared not raise their heads, lest they offend the emperor. They simply kowtowed again before carefully rising, bowing their heads and bodies as if they were ripe ears of rice.

Standing in the line of officials, Sheng Hong saw his son's smooth and standard movements, impeccable etiquette, making him stand out among the tense or stiff candidates. The tension in his heart finally eased slightly, and he subconsciously wiped non-existent sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, secretly rejoicing: "Good, good, good, at least he didn't make any mistakes in etiquette. I must thank Bai'er for his careful guidance of his younger brother when we get back."

Sheng Changbai's lips twitched almost imperceptibly, as if there was a hint of approval and relaxation in them.

Next, Grand Secretary Han Zhang stepped forward and, on behalf of the court, announced in a loud and clear voice: "His Majesty has decreed that the scholars who have submitted their talents throughout the land be consulted!"

Immediately afterwards, well-trained eunuchs, carrying trays of examination papers covered with bright yellow silk cloth symbolizing imperial power, moved swiftly yet with utmost respect, as if delivering some priceless treasure, to each candidate.

Subsequently, guided by the officials in charge of ceremonies, the scholars exited the Zichen Hall in order and proceeded to the side halls on the east and west sides.

That place was their true battlefield today—the imperial examination hall.

The examination hall in the side hall had already been set up, with hundreds of desks neatly arranged, complete with writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones. Although it was not as grand as the main hall, it was more solemn and dignified.

Inside the hall, censors and officials from the Court of State Ceremonial stood solemnly to supervise the examination, their eyes sharp as they surveyed each candidate.

The air was filled with the scent of ink and a faint sense of tension; you could hear a pin drop.

Like the other candidates, Sheng Changquan knelt down behind the designated desk, respectfully accepting the examination papers covered with bright yellow silk from the eunuch. He placed them on the desk in front of him according to etiquette, without opening them immediately. The bright yellow silk was dazzling, as if reminding them where they were and what expectations and pressures they bore.

Once all the candidates were in place and the examination papers had been distributed, the voice of the old Prime Minister Han Zhang rang out again, coming through the palace doors. Although slightly obstructed, it was still clearly audible: "Open the books—!"

Upon receiving the order, the scholars gently and solemnly unveiled the yellow silk, as if they were lifting the veil of the goddess of fate.

What was presented to Sheng Changquan were the policy questions printed on the fine palace paper. The ink was rich and the characters were clear, with a faint scent of ink that mixed with the original incense in the hall, creating a unique aroma that belonged exclusively to the imperial examination hall.

He focused intently on the question, his eyes sharp as he quickly scanned every word, not daring to miss a single detail.

The decree stated:

"I, having inherited the great throne and ruling over all lands, am constantly vigilant, fearing I may not be able to fulfill my responsibilities. The way to govern a country is complex and multifaceted, but to ensure peace and stability, military preparedness and cultural education are equally important and cannot be neglected. The humiliation of Emperor Zhenzong's capture in the north still pains me deeply, and scholars and common people alike feel regret over it! Now, the Liang Kingdom in the north, with its wolfish ambitions, relies on its superior military strength to repeatedly invade our borders and covet our Central Plains. However, the court and the public are still debating incessantly on how to deal with this situation."

"Some say we should emulate Zhenwu, strengthen our military, launch a major northern expedition to wipe away the shame of the previous dynasty, and display our national prestige abroad; others say we should defend rather than attack, and instead use culture, education, and virtuous governance to pacify distant peoples, improve our internal affairs, and strengthen the foundation of the nation. Lightly provoking border conflicts may damage our vitality and repeat past mistakes. You students are learned in the past and present, possessing both wisdom and talent. Try to analyze the root causes of Liang's strength and weakness, weigh the advantages and disadvantages of war and defense, and elaborate on the strategies we should use to defend against and defeat the current great flood, so as to ensure the eternal peace of the nation and the security of the borders. We must strive to see the crux of the problem and provide detailed and clear solutions. I will personally review them."

After the questions were read, the hall fell into an even deeper silence, as if even the air had stopped moving.

This policy question, like that of a skilled swordsman, directly addresses the most core and sensitive contradictions in the current court. It is extremely difficult, and a poor answer could mean more than just a matter of ranking.

Sheng Changquan noticed that Yuan Shen, standing not far away, had lost the composure that usually accompanied his reserved smile, as if he had everything under control. His brows were now furrowed almost imperceptibly, and his long, slender hands, usually reserved for playing the zither and chess, were now tucked into his sleeves, his fingertips unconsciously twitching. Clearly, his mind was racing, weighing the various positions implied in the question, the emperor's possible inclinations, and how to phrase his words to showcase his talent without being overly biased and offending one side. This was a highly technical task.

A little further away, Wang Youchen's eyes flashed with a sharp light when he saw the words "emulate Zhenwu." It was as if a sleeping tiger had heard the sound of its prey, and his chest puffed out even more involuntarily. It was an expression of finding theoretical support, encountering a kindred spirit, and eagerly anticipating the challenge, as if he could already see his future of conquering the world and achieving great things. He probably felt that this topic was tailor-made for him.

Chen Jingshen remained calm and composed, like an old monk in deep meditation. However, his gaze lingered on the exam paper for a significantly longer period, as if he were chewing over each word, trying to thoroughly analyze every piece of information and every possibility contained in the hundreds of words of questions, leaving no detail unexamined.

This kind of solid foundation is sometimes more terrifying than talent.

As for Liu Renyuan in the back row, Sheng Changquan couldn't turn around at the moment, so he naturally didn't know whether his lively friend was scratching his head or had already started praying to all the gods and Buddhas in his heart. He could only wish him good luck.

"Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kindness!"

The scholars bowed in unison, their voices echoing in a low, orderly manner in the side hall.

Inside the examination hall, the atmosphere was even more somber and tense than inside the main hall.

The censor, with a serious expression and eyes as sharp as a hawk, surveyed the area. His gaze seemed to see through every corner of people's hearts. Here, any small action could have irreversible consequences.

The scholars picked up their brushes, dipped them in ink, and focused their minds.