Chapter 165
Cui Xie had silver on him and three shops outside–including a chain tea stall. When fellow townsmen came to the capital for the exams, how could he not treat them well? He immediately called the waiter over to put the cost of all the banquets on his own tab, ordered more food and wine, bought a basket of fresh, plump crabs, and even sent someone home to fetch good liquor, determined to be a lavish host.
There were no jieyuan (provincial first-rankers) or jingkui (top classics scholars) present in the restaurant. With Cui Xie’s eighth-place rank, he was the most outstanding one in the room. Naturally, the crowd began urging him to recite his exam essay and give some writing guidance to those who hadn’t passed.
Cui Xie modestly said, “I was merely fortunate to receive the examiners’ favor and managed to pass as a juren. If my elders wish to hear my essay, I shall recite it, but I dare not presume to instruct.”
Having studied at the Imperial College for over a year, with his essays often posted in the corridors for critique, he’d developed a thick skin and could now recite them with his eyes closed.
Among the Qian’an scholars were some who had once given him feedback or edited his early essays. Back then, they felt his essays were vigorous and forceful in thought but lacked polish in phrasing. But hearing his provincial exam essay now, they were shocked to see it had transformed entirely and reborn.
The eight-legged essay style required a mix of formal prose and parallel phrases. Cui Xie’s earlier essays had strong arguments in the prose parts of opening, amplifying, with the introduction and transition being particularly strong, but the antithetical couplets were often short and rarely truly refined. In this latest piece, however, his paired couplets were carefully crafted, elegant in tone and style. Even the first opening lines, which could have been written plainly, followed the parallel format:
If wrongdoing is done, deception lies in the wrongdoing itself. But when wrongdoing is hidden, deception turns to the guise of virtue. For the errors of a petty man lie not merely in doing wrong, but in concealing wrong and pretending to be righteous.
These lines flowed like paired smoke trails, two cords from a single skein, comparative rather than opposite.They masterfully captured the twin ideas of “deception” and “error,” illustrating how a petty man not only hides his flaws but dangerously passes himself off as virtuous. The structure was crisp and balanced, and when recited by Cui Xie himself, the words rang like struck jade: clear, rhythmic, and sonorous.
Even those like Lu An, who had read his essays before, clapped and exclaimed: “Truly, the younger generation is to be feared! You’ve progressed so fast, just one year and you’ve already reached mastery! Could it be that you’ve dreamt of Jiang Yan’s legendary pen of blooming words1?”
Even those who had begrudged Cui Xie’s publishing success or scoffed at how “someone like him could get eighth place” couldn’t help but mutter now: “So that’s the kind of talent that gets eighth place…”
Such finely wrought writing, and the author was already known for compiling study guides–so young, so handsome, how had the Chief Examiner not ranked him higher?
Cui Xie shook his head and smiled: “There’s nothing mystical about it. I was simply lucky to study under great teachers and practiced more diligently than most. You all studied from those annotated guides for only three or four months, and already the pass rate rose, while I’ve been studying at the Imperial College for over a year. Many of the notes in those books were copied by my own hand, so of course I knew the material well. If I still couldn’t do well, how would I face my elders?”
He studied at the Imperial College for over a year and more recently became a disciple of Li Dongyang, working through essay prompts given by Hanlin scholars. If Cui Xie still hadn’t passed, he joked, he might as well hang himself.
Everyone could only envy his teacher, but not begrudge him. After all, many study under famous tutors, but how many take detailed notes and turn them into structured, indexed study guides on the Four Books and Five Classics for all the students in the world to use?
Everyone who had studied using his Essential Readings owed him a debt of gratitude, and for their own futures, silently prayed he would continue printing the rest of the series. If he was in a bad mood, lost interest and stopped halfway… where else would they find someone with such ability and generosity?
Of the famed《Six Talented Scholars and the Three Kingdoms》” only Xu Liyan and Shen Zheng had failed to pass. Hearing him speak so humbly, they joined in the laughter, saying: “Cui Yuan sent us the books for free, and we still didn’t pass. Seems we didn’t study hard enough. Next year we’ll have to follow your lead and hang a countdown board on the wall: ‘1,000 days until the next provincial exam…’ and count down day by day”
In truth, they were more fans of novels than driven scholars. Passing was a happy accident; failing felt expected. With four of the six now official juren, their literary fame was secure regardless now that their reputation were tied together, they weren’t in much of a rush.
But they spoke jokingly. Cui Xie clapped once and earnestly said: “That kind of countdown really works! I’ve still got one at home. After the provincial exam, it’s time to count down to the metropolitan exam. You all think three years is long, but it’s just 1,080 days, add a leap month and it’s 1,110 at most. We sleep three or four hours a night, spend another hour or two eating and dressing… realistically, we only get half a day of study. Factor in socializing, poetry gatherings, breaks…”
Right then and there, Cui Xie picked up a pencil and began doing subtraction on the restaurant wall, calculating down to the hour, finally converting it into days: “After subtracting all that, the actual number of days you can devote to studying barely totals 500. How can we not seize the opportunity?”
Hearing him rattle off numbers while writing them out, not only the students who had failed but even those who had passed were chilled to the core: “If just preparing for the provincial exam is this stressful, then what, are there even 100 days left before the metropolitan exam?”
Apparently… not.
Most scholars weren’t exactly good at arithmetic, but they followed along with his logic and calculated mentally. The provincial exam results were released on the second day of the ninth month. The metropolitan exam would begin on the ninth day of the second month the following year. That gave them only five months, around 150 days. Subtract time for meals and sleep, and whatever time was left had to be devoted entirely to study. But even then, how much could really be accomplished?
The restaurant was filled with literary types, both successful and not, who’d all come to celebrate after the exam. But with just a few sentences, Cui Xie had taken the flavor right out of their food.
And he didn’t even notice their pale expressions. He was just like a student who’d been dragged into filming a motivational speech after the college entrance exam, beaming with enthusiasm and eager to share his experience: “I knew I was young and lacked talent, not as well-versed in essay writing as my older students, so I trained myself strictly. I’d get up before dawn and write seven essays a day, not using models or templates, just free writing. Write enough and your thinking broadens. In the exam hall, inspiration is rare. But if you have even a sliver of talent, practice will allow it to show. That way, you won’t betray what you’ve studied.”
The provincial exam had only three rounds, and even those were spaced out with two days of rest in between. Most examinees came out of it looking half-dead after seven eight-legged essays, six miscellaneous essays and five essays on current affairs. Yet this delicate-looking young man had been drilling himself with seven essays a day?
Seven essays a day, and he didn’t even use model answers? How did he manage to write that much?
If he really could write like that… then it was no wonder he’d scored eighth place after only three years of study.
The scholars and newly minted juren were so stunned by his study regimen that they forgot to ask this brilliant, eighth-place juren, a top student of the Imperial College and disciple of the renowned Li Dongyang, to write poems or compose lyrics on the spot. They were all too busy wiping sweat and listening as he passionately explained how to review for exams and how best to use the Essential Readings study guide.
Thus, they let slip a rare chance to expose him as a possible literary fraud–if he couldn’t write a decent poem on the spot, that is.
Even though some may have felt their lifespan shorten from the stress of Cui Xie’s words, they later came to see him as a genuinely kind, wise, and magnanimous person.
Most scholars, even if they had some clever study tricks, would only share them with their closest disciples or children. Who would willingly teach others, not fearing they’d outperform them in the next round of exams?
While Cui Xie was winning the admiration of scholars across the city, word of his eighth-place finish also reached the court and palace. The Left Vice Minister of Rites, concurrently in the Court of the Heir Apparent, of the Crown Prince’s Household, Li Chun, who was also Li Dongyang’s teacher and thus Cui Xie’s “grandmaster”, was delighted to hear the news. Especially knowing that Li Dongyang had deliberately held Cui Xie back to avoid favoritism. If not, the boy might have made the top five.
When Li Chun went to collect the Crown Prince’s exam papers, the Crown Prince specifically asked:
“Gu heard today was the release of the provincial exam results. Did Cui Xie make the list?”
Li Chun bowed and smiled, answering: “Indeed, he ranked eighth this year. He has not disappointed Your Majesty and Your Highness, who have both favored him.”
Though the Crown Prince had only met Cui Xie once, he’d seen his name on exam papers frequently and had even used his questions as prompts. He now regarded Cui Xie as one of his own and was pleased, but also a little regretful: “Only eighth place? Gu has seen his work–it’s no worse than anyone else’s.”
Li Chun gently reminded him: “The world is full of talent. Though he is young and gifted, can he really outshine every other scholar under heaven? All who passed, now future jinshi candidates, are future pillars of the empire. Your Highness must treat them equally and celebrate their success, for they are all men of worth chosen under a ruler as wise as Yao and Shun.”
The Crown Prince immediately corrected himself: “Teacher is right, Gu was being narrow-minded.”
He then asked Li Chun to help him obtain a copy of Cui Xie’s exam essays so he could review them later. Once Li Chun had left, the Crown Prince let out a quiet sigh: “Cui Xie is among the top students at the Imperial College, and yet he only placed eighth in the provincial exam?”
An inner attendant, seeing the Prince’s dim expression and mistaking it for disappointment, leaned in and whispered: “Your Highness, I’ve heard that his exam paper was originally chosen to be part of the Classics top laureates. But since Li Dongyang was his teacher, he purposely ranked him lower to avoid suspicion. Otherwise, he would’ve been third!”
The Crown Prince was astonished:“Truly? Who told you that?”
The inner attendant chuckled: “Some of the examiners mentioned it during their celebration banquet. They all said that Cui Xie, who’d helped Your Highness practice for so long, wrote even better than during his tertiary exam. This time he just happened to run into his own teacher as the Chief Examiner. But in the next round, the metropolitan exam, there won’t be any need to hold him back, he’s sure to become a first-class jinshi and bring honor to His Majesty and to Your Highness.”
The Crown Prince nodded slightly and murmured: “He really is better than the rest.”
Last spring, his position as heir had been on the brink, his father favored his younger half-brother, the fourth prince Youyuan, son of Imperial Consort Shao, and had been thinking of deposing him. Had it not been for Huai’en’s persistent protests, and the fact that Mount Tai experienced several earthquakes that spring–which the Imperial Astronomers interpreted as an ill omen for changes in the Eastern Palace–he might not be Crown Prince at all anymore.
It was during that time that Cui Xie entered the palace to tutor the Crown Prince, not only giving lessons, but also assigning him practice essays. Later, he even worked through essay questions with Cui Xie outside the palace… In the blink of an eye, more than a year had passed. Thinking back on those days when his position as Heir Apparent was most precarious, besides his trusted eunuchs and attendants in the Eastern Palace, it was Cui Xie and the students from the Imperial College who had spent the most time with him.
Now that one of the Crown Prince’s own academic companions had passed the provincial exam, it was only fitting that he reward him.
After a brief moment of thought, the Crown Prince instructed his attendants to select the finest brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, along with newly bound books from the palace press, palace-grown chrysanthemums, and chrysanthemum wine, and send them all to the Cui Residence as a mark of favor and distinction.
Cui Xie was still drinking at the tavern when someone rushed in to summon him home. The moment they heard that it was an Imperial gift from the Crown Prince, everyone at the table sobered instantly. A crowd followed him back, craning their necks outside the Cui residence to watch the palace taijian deliver the decree. The Cui family had already set up an incense altar; Cui Xie hurried home to change into the formal robes and hat prepared for a juren, and led his grandmother, younger siblings, their mother concubines, and household staff to kneel in unison to receive the honor.
After the taijian departed, Cui Xie sent someone back to the tavern to fetch the chef, ordering a continuous feast and inviting not only fellow townsmen but also any guests who had shown up uninvited to join in the celebration.
The drinking went on from noon until nightfall. It was almost curfew by the time the candidates and guests finally left in their carriages for their inns. Cui Xie stood at the door seeing off guests, one after another, until the last had departed and the sky was dark. He rubbed his tired eyes, ready to go back inside.
But as he turned, he suddenly caught a flicker of yellow light at the end of the alley–brief, like a lantern being lifted, revealing a familiar silhouette.
Cui Xie halted in place, then calmly turned to his family and said, “Go inside first. I’m going out for some air. There are patrolling guards from the Jinyiwei on the streets, it’s safe. I also happen to be acquainted with their Northern Bureau’s Pacification Commissioner. I won’t get in trouble for violating curfew. No need to worry.”
Cui Liangdong, concerned, said, “Young Master has had quite a bit to drink. A cold breeze might hit you hard. Why not take a servant to steady you?”
Cui Xie smiled and shook his head. “I trained my drinking tolerance on strong liquor, this doesn’t count as drunk. I don’t need help. I’m in a good mood today. I might even go watch an opera before coming home. Just tell someone to keep the door open for me. No questions.”
With that, he firmly dismissed the family, waited until the door was closed behind him, and turned toward the alley where he had seen that glimpse of yellow light.
The light was gone now. The alley was dark, with no clear silhouette in sight. Still, he walked toward it, the blood in his veins pounding like another man’s heartbeat, pulling him onward.
He walked until his chest bumped into something solid, and he stumbled forward. That “obstacle” turned out to be warm and soft. As it shifted, fabric and skin gave way to a steely musculature underneath. Cui Xie found himself pulled into an embrace, and a low voice chuckled beside his ear: “What a bold juren, barging in like this. Aren’t you afraid I’m some scoundrel out to sell you off to the southern mines?”
Cui Xie rested his chin on the man’s shoulder and slumped lazily into his arms, closing his eyes as he replied, “I live right next to the Northern Division, and Commander Xie of the Northern Administrative Division himself is patrolling tonight. If you try to sell me, he’ll toss you straight into the Imperial Prison.”
Xie Ying let out two low chuckles. “Well then, I won’t sell you. I’ll just kidnap you and take you home with me. What will you do then?”
Cui Xie chuckled. “Then hurry up and kidnap me already. I’ve been dreading the burden of managing my household. If you’re willing to take me in, I’ll freeload off you for life, and you won’t be able to get rid of me even if you try.”
Xie Ying wrapped an arm around his waist, hoisted him up by the legs, and tossed Cui Xie onto his horse. Then he mounted behind him, took the reins, and rode off. A wide cloak, or perhaps it was a part of his robe, draped down over Cui Xie’s head, wrapping him in warmth. Cui Xie leaned into Xie Ying’s chest and asked softly:“Where are you kidnapping me to?”
Xie Ying laughed. “Didn’t you just tell your steward you wanted to see an opera? Today is your big day, your success in the exam. Naturally, I’m going to grant your wish and take you to see a brand-new play.”
Footnotes:
- Jiang Yan’s Legendary pen: Jiang Yan was a poet and fu writer during the Northern and Southern dynasties known for his imitation poetry, a prominent genre of the Six Dynasties era. Jiang Yan stated that he loved the strange and different, and therefore sought new social trends and literary habits. This affected his friendships and writing style. There was a legend saying that he once dreamt of returning his magic brush to Guo Pu and lost his writing talent ever since. The idiom “江郎才盡” is therefore used for describing the situation when a creator is experiencing writer’s block after using up all his/her talent. Information from wikpedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jiang_Yan_(poet) ↩︎
TN: Hi everyone!! I hope you guys had a great week ❤ and go Cui Xie!! All his hard work is paying off, but I love that he is sharing his success and is so generous with others as well~
Announcement: We have set up a kofi and patreon account! If you would like to support us or get early access to advance chapters for Blood-Sucking Empress OR TMD OR my new novel, those options are available for you (in support us page)! I have just added a patreon tier for Transmigrating to the Ming Dynasty’s Imperial Examinations in which patreons can have access to a google document with ALL of my advanced translated chapters for the novel. Since I am a grad student, there should usually be at least 10 advance chapters in the document at a time, but depending on my schedules, there may be fewer or more. I’m currently extremely busy, but I have translated out some new chapters for you all! But, I will still post each week with the same schedule. Thanks!
Twin Dragons Translations 
Go CX!! 《《o(≧◇≦)o》》
Thank You for the new chapter ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )
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