I'll steal Gao Qiu's life and lead the Song Dynasty to prosperity.

In the Chengyanzhai of the Duan Prince's Mansion, Zhao Ji was staring intently at a newly mounted painting, "Autumn Mountains and Asking the Way."

The painting was sent from Jiangnan the day before yesterday. The brushwork is vigorous, and the mountain scenery is hazy. It is indeed a fine painting.

But after looking at it for a long time, his mind was not on the painting.

"Your Highness," Liang Shicheng entered quietly, carrying a tea tray, "there's news from the Imperial Academy."

Zhao Ji turned around, his eyes lighting up: "How is it?"

"Young Master Zhao..." Liang Shicheng gently placed the teacup on the table, a smile plastered on his face.

"Having won first place, all three of his policy essays were of the highest quality. His paper has been designated as the top paper by Chancellor Ye and posted outside the Minglun Hall for all students to see."

"Excellent!" Zhao Ji clapped his hands, his brows furrowed with delight. "I knew Mingcheng was no ordinary man! Those old scholars at the Imperial Academy always said he was indulging in miscellaneous arts and neglecting his studies. Now look what happened! This one essay has left them speechless!"

He was genuinely happy.

Zhao Mingcheng is a talent he "discovered," and his current success proves his foresight.

More importantly, how interesting it would be to have such a young man who is proficient in calligraphy, painting, and seal carving, skilled in Cuju (ancient Chinese football), and has the talent to manage the world by your side all the time?

Liang Shicheng's smile faded slightly, and he said in a low voice, "But... there are some other things."

"explain."

"Wang Yuan, son of Wang Zudao, the Left Censor, only achieved a second-low score in this private examination. It is said that he intentionally bumped into the inkstone on Young Master Zhao's desk during the examination, but Young Master Zhao exposed in public that it was a gift from the Prince, causing him to lose face."

"Wang Zudao was furious about this. After the morning court session this day, he even submitted a memorial, alleging that the Imperial Academy had a frivolous academic atmosphere and that some students were using tricks to curry favor..."

He didn't finish speaking, but the meaning was clear.

Although Wang Zudao did not name names, the impeachment was aimed directly at Zhao Mingcheng, and also implied that Prince Duan had "indulged" him.

The smile on Zhao Ji's face faded.

He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and frowned slightly: "Wang Zudao... Wang Yuan... I remember that at the Double Ninth Festival poetry gathering two years ago, the seven-character regulated verse he wrote was not even in metrical order. How dare he call himself a talented scholar? Now that he can't pass the exam with Mingcheng, he resorts to such despicable means. Like father, like son."

Zhao Ji's tone was disdainful, but also a little annoyed.

He was peacefully appreciating bronze and stone inscriptions and practicing Cuju (ancient Chinese football), but Wang Zudao described it as "indulging students in curiosities to curry favor."

That old scoundrel is meddling in other people's business.

"Your Highness, please calm down," Liang Shicheng said cautiously. "Although Wang Zudao is an official who speaks out against injustice, this impeachment is without merit, and Prime Minister Zhang has already refuted him before the Emperor. However... it has still come to the Emperor's attention."

Emperor Huizong put down his teacup and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

He thought of his elder brother, Zhao Xu.

The emperor's elder brother had always been kind to his younger brother, but he also often sighed, saying that he was "too idle."

If Wang Zudao's words were to reach the ears of his elder brother, it would likely displease him again.

"How is Mingcheng doing?" he asked.

"Young Master Zhao remained calm and composed under pressure," Liang Shicheng said.

"This servant has already sent someone to the Imperial Academy to inquire, and Young Master Zhao only asked me to convey one sentence: 'The innocent will remain innocent, and the guilty will remain guilty. Mingcheng only wishes to serve the court with his talents and learning; other matters are not of concern to him.'"

Upon hearing this, a smile returned to Zhao Ji's eyes.

"What a fine example of 'the innocent are innocent'! This magnanimity is a hundred times better than that of a scoundrel like Wang Zudao!"

He stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the small pond in the courtyard.

"I was worried that he was young and impetuous and might lose his temper after being slandered like this. But now it seems that I was overthinking it."

The pond surface shimmered, and several koi carp swam leisurely. Zhao Ji watched for a moment, then suddenly spoke.

"Shicheng, tell me... wouldn't it be a waste if someone as talented as Mingcheng were confined to the Imperial Academy to study by rote?"

Liang Shicheng's heart skipped a beat, and he lowered his head, saying, "Your Highness means..."

"I didn't mean anything by it." Zhao Ji turned around, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"I just feel that talented people are rare and should be put to good use. The Imperial Academy is certainly the right path, but wouldn't it be better if there were broader options?"

He didn't say it explicitly, but Liang Shicheng understood.

The prince is determined to win over Zhao Mingcheng, and even... to pave a faster path to success for him.

"This servant understands." Liang Shicheng bowed. "Young Master Zhao will surely appreciate the Prince's appreciation for talent."

Zhao Ji nodded, sat back down at his desk, and his gaze fell on the painting "Autumn Mountains and Asking the Way".

The painting depicts reclusive scholars sitting and discussing philosophy amidst towering mountains and flowing rivers, creating a profound and evocative atmosphere.

He suddenly felt a sense of anticipation.

What a delightful thing it would be to be able to spend time with someone like Zhao Mingcheng, discussing books and paintings, playing football, and occasionally talking about worldly affairs.

As for the likes of Wang Zudao, a cold glint flashed in Zhao Ji's eyes. Clowns jumping around like clowns, not worth mentioning.

……

At the same time, however, the atmosphere in Zhao Tingzhi's residence was quite different.

The study's doors and windows were tightly closed. Zhao Tingzhi sat alone at his desk, two documents laid out in front of him:

One was a copy of Zhao Mingcheng's policy essay, and the other was the key points of Wang Zudao's memorial to the throne that he had memorized after today's court assembly.

He stared at the policy proposal for a long time, his finger lightly tracing the line "If we abandon Huangzhou now, we will save 200,000 strings of cash in military expenses every year, but we will lose 300,000 strings of cash in profits from salt and iron," his expression complex.

I am proud.

With such insight and writing skills, one could find few like my son, not only among the Imperial Academy but also among the entire younger generation of the court.

That economic calculation, that assertion of "using war to sustain war," even the officials praised it highly, and Zhang Dun personally commended it.

But the concerns are real.

The wood is beautiful in the forest, and the wind will destroy it.

Wang Zudao's words today, seemingly directed at his son, were actually another test by the old party against the new party.

The son's association with Prince Duan was a double-edged sword—he gained the prince's favor, but also became a target for others to attack.

More importantly, the dialogue took place three days later at the Chuigong Hall.

Zhao Tingzhi understands the current officials all too well.

This young emperor was intelligent and resolute. He deeply hated the old party of the Yuanyou era and had an almost obsessive insistence on "continuing the lineage of Emperor Shenzong".

He appreciated his son's policy essay because it resonated with his own thoughts.

Asking questions is not about writing an article; it's about answering face-to-face, observing people's expressions, and responding flexibly.

My son is only nineteen years old and has never met the emperor before. What if he gets nervous and says something inappropriate, or handles the situation poorly...?

He dared not think.

After pondering for a long time, Zhao Tingzhi finally picked up his pen. The ink was the finest pine soot, the paper plain white; he wrote slowly, carefully considering each word.

"My dearest Mingcheng: It is as if we are meeting in person upon receiving this letter. I am delighted to learn that you have achieved the top score in the private examination. I have read your policy essay carefully, and the data is detailed and the reasoning is thorough. In particular, your view on 'expanding the borders to benefit the country' is deeply in line with the Emperor's mind. This is not something that can be achieved by studying hard behind closed doors, but rather the result of your daily attention to practical matters. I am very pleased with you."

Zhao Tingzhi first affirmed this, reassuring his son.

"However, the political climate in the court is currently very volatile. Wang Sijian has reported on the matter through hearsay, and although he has not explicitly stated his intentions, they are quite clear. You should know that talent easily attracts jealousy, while upright conduct fears no slander. Do not worry about this matter; just focus on preparing for the exam."

This was to clarify the situation and at the same time soothe the son's emotions.

"Lord Zhang praised your talent before the Emperor, and the Emperor has also read your writing. He has scheduled an audience with you at the Chuigong Hall in three days."

"This is an extraordinary opportunity, but also a great test. You must prepare carefully and have a deeper understanding and more comprehensive arguments on matters such as the military settlements in the Northwest, the advantages and disadvantages of opening up the borders, and the practical application of the new laws. When you meet the Emperor, you must be calm and composed, answer truthfully, and neither be humble nor arrogant."

Zhao Tingzhi explained Zhang Dun's support and told his son not to be too nervous.

He was a member of the New Party, and Zhao Mingcheng was also considered a member of the New Party. As the leader of the New Party, Zhang Dun would naturally defend him to some extent.

"Furthermore, you should keep in mind His Highness Prince Duan's kind intentions. However, with the audience with the Emperor imminent, you must prioritize His Majesty's wishes and put everything else aside for now. Remember this well, remember this well."

The last sentence is phrased euphemistically, but the meaning is clear: During this period, avoid visiting the Prince Duan's residence and focus on preparing for your audience with the Emperor.

After writing it, Zhao Tingzhi read it over again to make sure it was correct before folding it, putting it in an envelope, and sealing it with sealing wax.

Then he summoned Afu:

"Send the letter to the Imperial Academy and personally deliver it to your son. Tell him to burn it immediately after reading it and not to leave any written record."

"Yes, sir." Afu took the letter and carefully tucked it into his robes.

"Also," Zhao Tingzhi called after him, "tell him that no matter what the result of his question is, he must remain calm."

"I understand."

After Afu left, Zhao Tingzhi sat alone in the study, gazing at the flickering flames, his unease still lingering.

His son's path has been far too smooth, even smoother than that of his father, a seasoned official with over twenty years of experience.

The smooth sailing made him a little uneasy.

In the dormitory of the Imperial Academy, Zhao Mingcheng had just finished practicing calligraphy for the day.

He was copying Ouyang Xun's "Jiucheng Palace Stele," striving for meticulousness in every stroke. After finishing the last character, he put down his brush, examined the paper for a moment, and shook his head.

It's still too deliberate. He's learned about 70-80% of the boldness and strength of the Ouyang Xun style, but he's still missing that natural charm.

Just as I was pondering this, I heard Afu's voice from outside the door.

"My lord, my husband asked me to deliver a message."

Zhao Mingcheng opened the door, and Afu slipped in, closed the door behind him, and took out a letter from his pocket.

"The lord has ordered that it be burned immediately after reading."

Zhao Mingcheng took it, removed the sealing wax, unfolded the letter, and under the lamplight, his father's familiar handwriting came into view. He read it slowly, going over each sentence in his mind.

After reading the entire letter, Zhao Mingcheng remained silent for a long time.

He held the letter to the lamp flame, watching the flames lick the corner of the paper, spread rapidly, and turn to ashes that fell into the copper basin.

"My lord also said," Afu whispered, "that he will meet the emperor in three days, and that no matter the outcome, you must remain calm."

"I understand." Zhao Mingcheng nodded. "Go back and tell Father that I understand and will not let him down."

After Afu left, the dining hall returned to silence.

Zhao Mingcheng walked to the window and opened it.

Night had fallen, and most of the lights in the dormitories of the Imperial Academy had been turned off, with only a few scattered lights remaining. In the distance, the faint sound of a wooden clapper could be heard; it was the second watch of the night.

Three days later, he met the emperor at the Chuigong Hall.

He had anticipated this day; from the moment he decided to take this path, he knew that sooner or later he would stand before that young emperor.

I just didn't expect it to come so quickly.

Well, we'll see each other sooner or later, we'll have to meet eventually.

He recalled the words in his father's letter.

"On matters such as the advantages and disadvantages of military farming in the Northwest, the expansion of the border, and the practical application of new laws, we need to have a deeper understanding and a more comprehensive discussion." This was a reminder to him that answering questions was not about reciting memorized answers, but about having genuine insights and being able to adapt to changing circumstances.

Regarding the military settlements in the Northwest, he had studied the history of the Song Dynasty in his previous life, and had been familiar with the expansion of the border in Xihe during the reign of Emperor Shenzong and the war in Huangzhou during the reign of Emperor Zhezong.

Data, case studies, gains and losses are all in your mind, but that's not enough. You need your own insights and feasible suggestions.

Since Wang Zudao impeached him for "armchair strategizing," he had to prove to the emperor that he was not just talking nonsense.

We need to discuss how to "use war to sustain war" and how to transform border resources into revenue for the national treasury, in light of the current situation in Huangzhou.

He was also aware of the advantages and disadvantages of the new law.

But to explain it clearly and to get to the heart of the officials, you have to grasp the core issue.

The new law was not just Wang Anshi's ideal; it was an attempt to solve the crisis of "three redundancies" and to enrich the country and strengthen its military.

My thoughts gradually became clearer.

Zhao Mingcheng returned to his desk, spread out the paper, and wrote down several keywords: land reclamation and assessment, borderland rights and interests, and new laws governing officialdom.

Then close your eyes and ponder.

Historical records flashed through my mind, as did discussions in my previous life's classroom, what I had seen and heard at the Imperial Academy over the past two weeks, and the moments I shared with Prince Duan about epigraphy and playing Cuju (ancient Chinese football).

What he needed to prepare was not just a policy essay, but a complete, comprehensive solution that could demonstrate both his knowledge and insight.

As night deepened, the lights in the study remained on until the third watch of the night.