The Literary Test

The Daoist test took place in rounds of twenty, and by the time all three hundred-odd examinees had finished, dusk had already fallen. According to the regulations for this unified examination, the literary test would be held the following day. After an uneventful night, Wei Yuan was brought early the next morning to a brightly lit grand hall. Desks, chairs, and the Four Treasures of the Study had already been laid out inside. Just like in the Daoist test, the moment Wei Yuan stepped into the hall, he saw his number glowing upon one of the desks. Wei Yuan walked over and took his seat, feeling as though an invisible wall rose around him, shutting out every sound and distraction. He could not hear the voices of the others, and his surroundings blurred. Even at the neighboring desk, he could not make out what was written on the paper. The items on the desk were simple. In the center lay a sheet of white paper; on the right stood a brush rest holding a fine regular-script brush; and at the center of the desk's edge sat an inkstone and a bowl of clear water. Then, the clear, bright voice of a Daoist rang out beside Wei Yuan, briefly explaining how each item was to be used. The truly wondrous item was the bowl of clear water: if one made an error, dipping the brush in a bit of the water could wipe it away, allowing one to write anew. After explaining how to use the implements, the Daoist's voice turned solemn. "The literary test begins!" Following the Daoist's command, dense rows of characters spontaneously surfaced upon the white paper before Wei Yuan. He had already picked up his brush, but when he saw the exam paper that appeared, he froze. The page left virtually no blank space—where was he supposed to write his answers? Wei Yuan composed himself and read the questions carefully. The very first question read: *In the thirteenth year of Jingxuan, () barred the carriage of Emperor Hui and presented the Eight Strategies for Pacifying Liao.* A: Zhong Heng B: Ding Shu C: Gongshu Luyuan D: Daoist Xianju Wei Yuan had never encountered this manner of questioning, nor had Zhang Sheng ever taught it. Fortunately, the question was not difficult; the event was a major affair in the *History of Tang*. With a solid grounding, Wei Yuan searched his memory, lifted his brush, and placed a check mark beside option D. Next came the second question: *In the thirty-fifth year of Mingde, () led 8,100 armored warriors to decisively defeat the mountain folk at Ji, beheading 273.* A: Mao Gong B: Xu Chu C: Master Huihai D: Hanikezi This question was no obstacle for Wei Yuan, who knew the *History of Tang* backward and forward. At a glance, he spotted the name Xu Chu and placed a check mark beside option B. Only after answering this question did young Wei Yuan's thumping heart gradually calm down. Though the question format was bizarre, the difficulty was not actually high. If every question were like this, passing the literary test would be practically handed to him. Yet an odd thought suddenly crossed Wei Yuan's mind: what if the question had not tested for Xu Chu, but rather whether it was the thirty-fourth, thirty-fifth, or thirty-sixth year of Mingde? Or worse, what if it asked whether the number of armored warriors was 8,100 or 8,200, or even whether the heads taken were 273 or 274... Young Wei Yuan suddenly shuddered, hastily banishing the terrifying thought from his mind. Chuckling inwardly, he thought to himself, *Who could be so brainless as to write such a stupid question?* Wei Yuan gradually settled his mind and answered with effortless ease. The questions that followed never produced anything so frightening. Once a sheet of paper was completed, Wei Yuan set it to the side, and a fresh sheet of white paper would spontaneously appear on the desk, bearing new questions. Soon, Wei Yuan encountered another type of question he had never seen before: *In the twenty-first year of Xuanwu, Tang Taizong defeated Northern Liao at (), reclaimed seven thousand li of territory, and established () Province.* This time, there were no multiple-choice options like A, B, C, or D; he had to fill in the blanks himself. This battle had laid the very foundation of the Great Tang. Taizong had campaigned for seven straight months, ultimately crushing Northern Liao at Wuyang, slaying two of their three Grand Imperial Preceptors, and establishing the seven commanderies of Yanzhou. Of course, present-day Yanzhou comprised twenty-two commanderies, but that was a later development. Such a monumental event naturally posed no challenge for Wei Yuan. He set brush to paper, his calligraphy upright and vigorous. He discovered that the brush in his hand was also quite ingenious; its strokes could be drawn exceedingly fine, so that even characters the size of rice grains posed no problem. The brush he had used in his childhood would never have managed this, as characters even as large as beans would easily blur into an illegible blot. Wei Yuan wrote furiously, and the stack of completed sheets beside his desk grew taller and taller. After finishing more than a dozen pages in succession, the next fresh sheet revealed only a single line of text, leaving the rest completely blank: *Discuss Xu Jie's presentation of the Memorial on Welcoming the Worthy to Mingzong.* A policy essay! Wei Yuan's spirits surged. The familiar had finally arrived. Xu Jie was a renowned chancellor of the early Great Tang. Shortly after Tang Mingzong took the throne, Xu Jie had presented the *Memorial on Welcoming the Worthy*, advising the emperor to open more avenues to broadly recruit worthy talents, which laid the foundation for the century of prosperity that followed. What this question truly examined was policy regarding the appointment of officials: whether one should prioritize virtue or talent. After a moment's thought, Wei Yuan let his brush dance across the page like dragons and serpents. When Zhang Sheng had taught him, he had not only required Wei Yuan to memorize the *Memorial on Welcoming the Worthy*, but had also analyzed it line by line, explaining the practical consequences of each proposal in light of the historical context. Finally, he had made Wei Yuan consider how the impact of those policies would have changed had they been applied to different eras, refusing to let him off until every scenario had been answered. Such questions had no single correct answer. According to what Zhang Sheng taught, an answer was only acceptable if framed within the prevailing conditions of the era. Anything divorced from the contemporary situation was mere empty talk. In short order, Wei Yuan filled the page, set it aside, and moved to the next question: *In the tenth year of Xuanguang, an earthquake struck three commanderies of Western Jin. In the third month, starving peasants rose in rebellion; in the fifth month, southern mountain tribes invaded. General Fan Yuan led fifty thousand troops out of the capital. Should he march west or head south?* This question examined whether to repel external threats before pacifying internal unrest or vice versa, another subject without a definitive consensus. Historically, Fan Yuan had marched west to suppress the disaster-stricken populace, beheading hundreds of thousands without quelling the unrest. The mountain tribes had seized the chance to invade, driving straight toward the capital and ultimately forcing Western Jin to sign a humiliating treaty under siege. Western Jin's national strength had suffered severely as a result, reducing it from one of the three great principalities to the very bottom among the nine states. This question was considerably more difficult. Wei Yuan pondered for a moment, drew upon real historical precedents for comparison, and began evaluating the merits and pitfalls. To truly answer this well, one needed not only historical precedent, but also an intimate understanding of Western Jin's contemporary geography, the temperaments of its ruler and ministers, and the movements of neighboring states—which far exceeded Wei Yuan's present abilities. Unless one were a grand historian, providing a flawless answer was impossible. Sheet after sheet was covered in ink and set aside. Unnoticed, nearly two shichen slipped by, yet Wei Yuan felt not the slightest fatigue. The chair beneath him continually sent forth wisps of cool air, keeping his mind sharp and his spirits buoyant. When Wei Yuan filled another sheet and set it aside, no new paper appeared on the desk. He let out a long breath, returned the brush to its rest, picked up the completed test papers, and reviewed them from the beginning. Throughout the entire examination, Wei Yuan had not encountered a single question he could not answer. A few of the policy essay prompts lacked definitive consensus, but he took care to construct self-consistent arguments and was quite satisfied with his work. Judging by policy essays alone, the prompts Zhang Sheng used to assign Wei Yuan had been far more difficult than anything in this examination. A bell tolled, signaling the end of the literary test. The examinees left their papers on the desks, filed out of the grand hall, and returned to the dormitories to rest. The moment he stepped outside the hall, a deep wave of exhaustion washed over Wei Yuan. After three full shichen of testing, even with the support of the enchanted chair, his mental energy was spent. The other candidates were similarly in no mood to talk and hurried back to their respective rooms. Early tomorrow morning was the martial test, and they needed to replenish their strength.