Feng Yuan reviewed the papers on the spot. Those who only transcribed a few sentences were tossed aside without a glance.
If someone managed to transcribe an entire passage, their papers were set aside. There weren’t many—just five or six, among them Chix Lin and Guan Chong.
As for those who transcribed more than one passage, there was only one so far, and the name at the top was striking—"Luu Xian."
"Hehe, Master Luu Hong truly knows how to teach a son." Feng Yuan nodded in satisfaction.
To memorize even a single passage he’d extracted in such a short time was already impressive; to remember more than one meant a memory surpassing most—a talent worthy of praise.
"Many thanks, Lord Feng." At this, Luu Hong’s face broke into a wide smile.
Their conversation was not concealed; all the youths below heard every word.
Luu Xian had been complimented by the Lord of the Classics.
Admiration, envy—all manners of emotion surged among them.
The papers continued to be marked, and soon it was Chu Ming’s turn.
Feng Yuan’s brows lifted in surprise as he glanced down; the page was densely filled with writing, though the calligraphy was rough and ugly.
Luu Hong, watching from the side, let a flicker of change show in his eyes but quickly masked it.
Writing more does not necessarily mean writing correctly.
Previously there’d been two other papers crammed with words, but their content was a jumbled mess, not three passages from "Poetry, Politics, and Military Skill."
From a distance, even if he couldn’t see the content directly, Chu Ming’s paper, filled with wild, haphazard handwriting, looked to be nonsense at a glance.
Yet suddenly, he realized something was wrong.
Feng Yuan’s face grew gradually solemn, reading through from start to finish again and again.
The first military skill passage was written out in full; the second, from history, likewise flawless.
Yet in the third section—politics and agriculture—only half had been transcribed.
The key was the final unfinished character, which gave the impression he’d run out of time and only managed to jot down a radical...
In other words, this youth named Chu Ming had quite possibly memorized all three passages, but if only he’d had enough time, he could have written them all out completely!
Staring at those unsightly characters, so ugly they were hard to bear, Feng Yuan nonetheless found them increasingly pleasing to the eye.
One can practice and improve one’s script, but talent—talent cannot be gained through effort.
Effort is the ordinary man’s path to the court, but some things cannot be won by effort alone.
If one works hard and possesses high talent, one’s achievements will certainly surpass those who have only diligence but lack the gift.
He placed Chu Ming’s paper by his side and continued grading the rest, without betraying emotion.
The rest were simple to judge; glancing at each, only several lines long.
Feng Yuan slowly stood, his expression calm as he gazed at the young men below.
Luu Xian and the others instantly grew nervous.
"Not bad." Feng Yuan’s first words made all the youths’ hearts race faster.
"Five have memorized one passage; two have recalled more than one."
All hearts quickened—the Lord of the Classics naming one’s effort was a rare honor, perhaps one a person encountered but once in life.
"Wan Hui, Gong Rong, Zhou Yiwen, Guan Chong, Chix Lin."
Their names called, the five could hardly contain their excitement.
Feng Yuan paused, then continued: "Luu Xian."
Luu Xian?
Called at this moment, yet not announced as first?
Could someone have a better memory than Luu Xian?
Who could it be?
Could it possibly be Chu Ming again?
The crowd speculated secretly.
Huang Lu craned his neck toward Chu Ming, muttering softly, "No, please let it not be him..."
As if reciting a prayer.
Yet from above came the two words he most dreaded: "Chu Ming."
"..."
In an instant, it was as though Huang Lu’s mouth had tasted bitterroot.
It was supposed to be Brother Chu, tricked into making up the numbers—how, how could this be...?!
Could it be that his own father Huang Minggen really did grant him enlightenment?
He touched the slight bulge in his chest.
But this thing, he’d been eating it since infancy; it was sweet, but really nothing special otherwise.
"Master Luu Hong, you may now announce the final academy exam results." Feng Yuan said solemnly.
"Yes, Lord Feng."
Luu Hong stepped forward and cleared his throat, "For this Liuu Town Academy examination: third place, Guan Chong."
"Second place, Luu Xian."
"First place..." Luu Hong cast a complicated look into a corner of the outer hall, "Chu Ming."
Unsurprising—first in both the written and memory tests, Chu Ming was sure to be first overall.
"Chu Ming, Luu Xian, Guan Chong, stay behind. The rest may go home."
Resentment, admiration, shame, relief—each youth departed with their own feelings.
Only Chix Lin, legs heavy as lead, moved a few steps but couldn’t exit the private school.
Hadn’t he already prepared for a banquet at Cyan Bamboo Pavilion to celebrate his top-three finish?
Heh...
He took a few deep breaths, and looked back, his eyes filled with defiance, jealousy, and fear.
Not making it—he’d face his father’s scolding when he got home.
"Go on home, you’ll have another chance."
Luu Hong encouraged with an even voice, only then did Chix Lin force himself out the door.
Meanwhile, one of Feng Yuan’s attendants carried a pile of heavy books up front.
"This is your reward, ’Poetry, Politics, and Military Skill,’ compiled jointly by the Ministry of Rites and Ministry of War of the Great Qin Dynasty."
Feng Yuan picked up one of the thick blue books, as long as an adult’s forearm. "’Poetry, Politics, and Military Skill’ includes volumes on poetry, politics, history, ritual, and military skill—these will be your primary studies once you enter Baiyuan Academy."
"If you master any one of these five, your prospects will be bright."
"Come forward and receive them."
After bowing, the three each accepted their volume of ’Poetry, Politics, and Military Skill.’
At last—after yearning for it, it was indeed hefty.
Chu Ming was eager to read it, but now was not the time.
"These are the Baiyuan Academy tokens; take them, and you can register at Baiyuan County next month." Feng Yuan produced three copper tokens and handed them over.
These tasks would usually have been handled by Luu Hong, but Feng Yuan, pleased today, saw them to completion himself.
Luu Xian and Guan Chong took the tokens with trembling hands. "Thank you, my lord."
Chu Ming also performed a deep bow, accepting his token, though his reaction was calmer than the others’ excitement.
Feng Yuan’s gaze lingered on him with a trace of appreciation.
This is the steady bearing a youth of the Great Qin Dynasty ought to have.
He turned to Luu Hong: "Master Luu Hong, might I trouble you for a quiet place? I have matters to speak to Chu Ming alone."
What?!
The Lord of the Classics wants to speak privately with this Chu Ming?
Luu Xian and Guan Chong’s faces changed at once.
Even Luu Hong was briefly stunned before reacting: "This way, my lord."
Thus, under Luu Xian and Guan Chong’s jealous, resentful stares, Chu Ming followed to a secluded courtyard.
Directly ahead was a decorative rock garden and water pavilion; at the center, a small gazebo. Luu Hong withdrew, leaving only Chu Ming and Feng Yuan alone.
"Your name is Chu Ming?" Feng Yuan asked.
"Yes, Lord Feng." Chu Ming replied calmly, clutching the heavy book.
"Are you the Chu Ming—illegitimate son of the wealthy Chu Family of Baiyuan County?" Feng Yuan lifted his teacup, sipped, and fixed Chu Ming with a piercing stare.
The secluded courtyard suddenly fell eerily silent. Chu Ming lowered his eyes to the blue tome in his hands, not responding immediately.
The original’s having been sent to Liuu Town by the Chu Family was known to few; this Lord of the Classics did not exist in the original’s memories—meaning they’d had no prior dealings.
For him to recognize him and make such an inquiry—Chu Ming could not guess the man’s intent.
There was risk in attending this exam; should the matron of the Chu Family learn he’d taken first place, she’d deploy every means to bring him down.
This was also why, after unlocking the [Study] skill, he was desperate to become a martial artist.
Only with extraordinary power could he fear no schemes and plots.
But this Lord of the Classics...
Feng Yuan’s eyes fixed intently on Chu Ming, his gaze ever more penetrating.
"Heh, your silence is admission." He spoke suddenly, absolutely sure.