A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

As the war in the southeast came to an end, the schools in the capital were also making steady progress.

Two months after the first batch of students enrolled, the White-Robed National Teacher presided over a test.

When Fang Fuyao put down the last exam paper, the tea next to her had already gone cold.

She didn't look at the tea; she only stared at the few lines of text on the scroll.

"Support the army with grain, facilitate trade with roads, and stabilize the people's hearts with education. More soldiers are not necessarily better, less grain is not necessarily better, and wider roads are not necessarily better. If the dynasty only raises taxes to support the army, the people will give their livelihoods to bandits. If it only closes its borders and defends its cities, it will starve to death even if the enemy does not come."

The handwriting wasn't very beautiful; there were even two ink blots.

The meaning is quite clear.

Fang Fuyao picked up the paper and read it over again.

She didn't have high hopes for the test.

The school had only been open for two months. Among the students were children from merchant families, children from military families, and orphans sent from the countryside.

Asking them to write policy essays before they've even fully learned to read is like asking someone who's just learned to hold a knife to chop down a general.

Being able to write a few complete sentences is already quite good.

Who knew that among this batch of papers, more than a dozen were actually passable?

The best one of them was beyond "readable".

This shows they are seriously considering how the imperial court should survive.

Fang Fuyao pushed the exam paper in front of Wei Zhao.

"Your Majesty, this student is quite interesting."

Wei Zhao was reviewing the account books sent by the Ministry of Revenue when he heard this, and his pen stopped on the paper.

He took the exam paper, read the first two lines, and raised his eyebrows slightly.

This policy essay does not pile up allusions, nor does it simply copy the words of sages.

The writer clearly hasn't read many serious articles; the sentences are somewhat rough, and there are even a few inaccurate word choices.

But every sentence hits the nail on the head.

He wrote very realistically about where the grain came from, why the soldiers were in disarray, and what would happen to the region after the trade routes were cut off.

Wei Zhao continued reading, gradually suppressing the casual feeling in his heart.

These kinds of students are the rarest.

In any school, you can always find a few people who can recite texts.

Those who are willing to focus on a bag of grain, a road, or a group of people are the ones who are truly capable of getting things done.

Xinwu is not lacking in people who want to fight and kill, nor in officials who know how to talk nicely.

What's lacking is this kind of person.

Wei Zhao put down the exam paper.

"What's your name?"

"Wei Changming."

After Fang Fuyao finished speaking, she picked up the roster and flipped to the back.

"Whose family is Wei Changming? His policy essays are not much worse than Lin Shimao's back in the day."

Lin Shimao was a talented man whom Fang Fuyao had met when she was young. Later, he entered the court as an official and became the Vice Minister of Revenue at the age of thirty.

This person's greatest strength is not his writing skills, but his ability to bring to fruition the things described in his articles.

Upon hearing this name, Wei Zhao's gaze fell upon the roster.

"Wei Changming..."

The three characters were written in the student roster, the ink still fresh.

He tapped the table with his finger, his mind already going through all the families with the surname Wei in the capital.

The Wei family's direct line is now reduced to just these few people. There are still a few branches, but due to the chaos of war at the end of the Great Wei Dynasty, many people died or scattered, and those who survived have long since lost contact with each other.

Fang Fuyao continued reading, her voice lowering.

"The registration form states that I am a descendant of a collateral branch of the Wei family. Both my parents are deceased, and I was sent to the capital by relatives from my ancestral home in the north. My reason for coming to the school is..."

Her finger stopped on the paper.

"Searching for relatives."

Wei Zhao remained silent.

These two words carry more weight than "seeking knowledge".

A child came to the capital from the north. When registering, he did not seek fame or fortune, but only wrote that he was looking for his relatives.

This suggests that he roughly knew he had a connection with the Wei family, but he didn't know how much of that connection remained.

This also suggests that the person who sent him here may not have genuinely wanted him to study.

Perhaps his family simply couldn't afford to support him anymore, so they just found him a way to make a living.

Or perhaps, those relatives know that the Wei family is now the new Wu royal family, and they think that sending the child over will at least bring some benefits.

Either way, this child has had a tough time.

Wei Zhao picked up the exam paper again and glanced at it.

When he wrote about grain, he mentioned a sentence: "What the people fear is not the government's requisition of grain, but that no one tells them where the grain goes after it is requisitioned."

This sentence made Wei Zhao pause for a long time.

When the imperial court is in charge of its affairs, it is most likely to treat the people as wooden blocks that only obey orders.

What's truly unsettling isn't how much is handed over, but rather the fact that you know nothing about it afterward.

The new emperor had just been established, and the world was not yet at peace.

Wei Zhao wasn't afraid of being called cold-blooded; what he feared was that the government couldn't even explain what they were doing.

"A branch of the Wei family?" he asked.

Fang Fuyao nodded.

"I remember the old lady saying that one branch of the Wei family moved to the north. Later, due to continuous wars, they gradually lost contact."

Wei Zhao leaned back in his chair, still clutching the exam paper in his hand.

The old matriarch is no longer with us.

She recounted many old stories about her family back then; Wei Zhao remembered some of them, but didn't take others to heart.

Back then, the nine sons of the Wei family were still on the border, and the world hadn't descended into chaos like it is today.

Who would have thought that a branch of the family that migrated to the north would send a child back to the capital many years later?

What was even more unexpected was that the first thing this child did was to write a decent policy essay in the school.

Fang Fuyao looked at him.

"If he is indeed a descendant of that branch, then he is the first person in the Wei family bloodline to enter the imperial court through the imperial examination."

She paused.

"It's not because he's a member of your clan, nor because the Wei family now holds the throne. He has to earn it through his own abilities."

Wei Zhao did not answer immediately.

This sounds simple, but when applied to the Wei family, it's not so simple.

Most of the Wei family members died on the battlefield, and those who survived were pushed around to support the new army.

If a young man from a collateral branch were to enter the imperial court through studying, it would mean that the Wei family would finally have another path.

It wasn't a knife.

It's about holding a pen.

Wei Zhao looked down at the scroll, feeling a mix of emotions he couldn't quite describe.

When he woke up in the mourning hall, only the memorial tablets of his nine brothers remained.

After that, the Wei family walked on blood every step of the way.

Fighting, seizing cities, purging corrupt officials, and suppressing rebellions—everyone was used to the Wei family only being able to solve problems with a knife.

But if a court is forever filled with nothing but swords, then it is no different from a military camp.

He needs someone to help Xinwu calculate grain supplies, build roads, establish schools, and manage the local area. He also needs someone to tell him what the people truly lack.

This Wei Changming is probably still quite inexperienced.

But at least he's already thinking about these things.

"Let him come to see me."

Fang Fuyao looked up at him.

"Now?"

"Now."

"He's still just a student."

That's why we need to meet now.

Wei Zhao put the exam paper back on the table: "By the time he enters officialdom and learns all the intricacies, it will be too late."

Fang Fuyao looked at him and couldn't help but say, "Your Majesty is quite willing to spend time on a student."

Wei Zhao picked up the herbal tea, took a sip, and frowned slightly.

"Talented people are rare. Especially those who can write down the truth."

Fang Fuyao glanced at the cup of tea.

"The tea has gone cold."

"I know."

"You knew that, yet you still drank it?"

Wei Zhao put down the teacup.

"If you don't tell me, I can still drink it."

Fang Fuyao ignored him and handed the token to the eunuch outside the door.

The summons was quickly delivered to the school.

When Wei Changming was brought into the palace, he didn't know what to do with his hands and feet.

He had only been in the capital for two months, and the highest-ranking official he had ever met was a teacher at a school.

Those instructors were already intimidating enough; if they misspoke even one word, they would be punished by having to copy it ten times.

Now that he was brought to the door of the Imperial Study, he realized that those instructors were not so scary at all.

The eunuch guarding the gate straightened his collar.

"Don't look around after you go in. Kneel down and pay your respects. Answer His Majesty's questions."

Wei Changming nodded quickly.

His clothes were old, and the cuffs had been patched twice.

His shoes were covered in mud, and he kept his head down as he entered the palace gate, afraid of being seen.

The more afraid she was of being seen, the more chaotic her mind became.

Why does His Majesty want to see him?

Was it because that policy essay was written incorrectly?

Or is it because of his surname?

Wei Changming stepped over the threshold and knelt down with a thud.

"Student Wei Changming greets Your Majesty."

His voice was strained, and he barely uttered the last two words.

No one immediately told him to get up from behind the desk.

Wei Changming lowered his head, able to see the blue bricks in front of him and also his trembling hands.

Wei Zhao stared at him for a long time before reaching out and picking up the exam paper from the table.

"A descendant of a collateral branch of the Wei family was able to be selected by the Imperial Advisor based on his strategic essays."

Wei Changming's throat went dry, and he didn't know what to say.

Wei Zhao did not press him, but simply turned the exam paper to the last page.

"Your parents would be very happy if they were alive."

Upon hearing this, Wei Changming's eyes immediately turned red.

He hadn't heard anyone mention his parents in a long time.

His relatives back home thought they were bad luck, so when they saw him off, they only said that his parents hadn't left him much, and told him not to worry about it anymore.

Later, when he arrived at school, he didn't dare mention it to anyone.

When others asked, he would say he was dead.

died.

Two words, if said too often, it sounds like you're talking about someone else's business.

But Wei Zhao just looked at him, as if he genuinely felt sorry for him.

Wei Changming pursed his lips, stubbornly refusing to let his tears fall.