Transmigrating to the Ming Dynasty’s Imperial Examination Ch. 167

Chapter 167

The day after the provincial exam results were released came the Luming Banquet, and all the successful candidates still in the capital were required to attend. Among them, the majority were registered in Beijing, but there were also many from other prefectures. After this feast, they would hurry back to their hometowns just in time to participate in a second banquet hosted by their local officials.

This was a tradition passed down through generations of banquet-goers.

Every time the provincial or metropolitan exams came around, students from the provinces would first be given a send-off banquet by their home counties, complete with travel stipends and provisions for the journey. Having long grown used to those hometown feasts, they naturally refused to miss out on this more prestigious meal in the capital. That morning, the banquet guests had all changed into fresh robes and hats, ready to trade a bellyful of learning for a tableful of delicacies.

Though Beijing-native scholars lacked such cross-country banquet experience, they were born in the capital under the feet of the Emperor, raised in splendor, and coached by teachers of high learning and strict discipline. Their preparations were no less thorough: new clothes laid out in advance, poems and speeches drafted with care, all to stand out during this event.

As for the Chief and Vice Examiners, their presence needed no elaboration. They had been locked inside the examination compound for over twenty days, unable to speak even a few words with the outside world. Their eyes had ached from grading, their minds exhausted from the comparisons and deliberations required to rank the candidates. Now that their task was complete, they emerged in high spirits, ready to observe how their hand-picked scholars conducted themselves.

The Luming Banquet was held at the Shuntian Prefectural Office.

The new Magistrate Wu Qi had just been transferred from the Provincial Administration Commission in Yunnan and was determined to execute everything to perfection. Not only had he ordered dishes of chicken, goose, lamb, fish, shrimp, crab, and shellfish, but he’d also gone out of his way to have several deer slaughtered for symbolic flair.

The guests were seated according to ancient custom, two to three men per small table: the jieyuan (top scorer) sat alone at a table just below the examiners, the two jingkui (top scorers in the classics) shared a table, and the rest sat three to a table. Each table first held a tall fruit platter with lion-shaped candies molded from malt sugar. Beneath that were trays of seasonal fruits, preserved sweets, silver almonds, walnuts, and, being close to the Chrysanthemum Festival, sugar-dusted chrysanthemum petals.

Cui Xie wore a newly tailored juren’s ceremonial robe and cap and, according to rank, took the eighth seat, exchanging congratulations with the seventh and sixth place candidates beside him.

Those two were sons of officials registered as Beijing candidates. They’d read his Essential Readings for the Imperial Examinations and had just yesterday heard of the “mock exam horror story” he’d shared at the tavern. Now, seeing him in person instantly triggered memories of that terrifying time-management arithmetic problem, hearts racing, blood draining from their faces, their expressions more strained than if facing the examiners themselves. They cupped their hands and returned his greeting stiffly:

“Cui-xiandi, there’s no need to be overly courteous. If we’re able to attend this banquet today, we owe it to your noble efforts in compiling that book.”

Cui Xie inwardly sighed, So serious, these juren. He modestly lowered his head and replied,

“You overpraise me, gentlemen. I merely did what little I could. It was the Chancellor, the Director of Studies, and all the esteemed Hanlin scholars who taught with such dedication, and your own hard work, that led to your success.”

While the students below were exchanging greetings and getting acquainted, Metropolitan Magistrate Wu above had already stood to deliver his speech. Everyone quickly stopped their conversations and rose to listen as he intoned:“Our dynasty reveres the traditions of antiquity… the rites of instructing and honoring guests… drawn from the systems of Yu and Zhou…”

Metropolitan Magistrate Wu quoted classics and chronicled the history of the examinations, encouraging the scholars to strive for further glory in next year’s spring hui exam. His voice was steady and formal, utterly soporific.

Cui Xie, who’d spent all night sketching and the entire morning drafting poetry, now found his eyelids too heavy to lift. Luckily, the scholars were meant to lower their heads in respectful posture, so the officials above couldn’t see them clearly. Otherwise, his teacher would have marched down and yanked him upright.

Finally, a deeply impassioned line from the prefect: “You must forge your character and strive to stand among the first-class men!”, shook him back to wakefulness. Only then did Cui Xie smell the delicious aroma of dish after dish arriving at the tables.

He looked over at the roasted lamb, braised goose, stir-fried chicken, whole steamed crab, and venison jerky. His spirits lifted slightly, and he sat up straight, just waiting for the Metropolitan Magistrate to give permission to begin the feast.

But alas, just as Metropolitan Magistrate Wu finished speaking, the examiners stood up… and they still had things to say.

Chief Examiner Li Dongyang was the first to rise solemnly and admonish the new scholars: “The burden of scholars is great in this world, may each of you strive with doubled resolve and lead the way for all under Heaven.” Vice Examiner Xie Qian followed, exhorting them to “preserve your good name and prove your merit.” Then the supervising officials, the eight associate examiners, and the two inspecting officials each stood up with a smile to say a few words. Had it not been for the charcoal stoves warming the dishes under the table, all the meat would have gone cold by now.

After what felt like an eternity, the officials finally finished speaking. The scholars lined up to formally acknowledge the Chief Examiner and the Vice examiner of their testing room as their mentors. Metropolitan Magistrate Wu looked on with a genial smile as these learned young men conducted themselves with grace and deference. With a flourish of his sleeve, bells and drums resounded from the courtyard, the time had come to sing the 《Deer’s Cry》.

“Gentle, gentle the deer call, nibbling on wild herbs”–thus the name Luming (Deer’s Cry) Banquet.

Cui Xie, blending into the throng of scholars, opened his mouth to sing. His lip movements were textbook perfect, he just didn’t make a sound. On the dais, Li Dongyang tilted his head, straining to catch any off-pitch voices among the crowd. Hearing nothing egregious, he cast a glance at his disciple, who seemed to be singing with such focus and sincerity that he assumed the boy had simply rehearsed the tune beforehand and was confidently staying on-key.

Pleased, Li Dongyang murmured to Xie Qian, “My student here may not have many talents, but he is at least diligent. He knew he’d be attending this banquet and practiced Deer’s Cry ahead of time.”

Xie Qian, unsure of the actual quality of Cui Xie’s singing but seeing the complex look on Li Dongyang’s face, nodded knowingly and said,  “I once thought to bring him under my wing as well, but I was a step too slow. Li-xiong snatched him up first. Judging by his exam essay, it’s clear your teaching has shaped him well. Had he come to me instead, I doubt I’d have been able to polish such elegant and refined writing out of him.”

Zhang Pu, still lamenting the final rankings, added: “Truth be told, his paper was no worse than Ou Zheng’s. If Academician Li hadn’t insisted on avoiding any hint of favoritism and ranked him lower, placing him in the top three wouldn’t have been undeserved.”

Wu Qi, hearing so many praises, couldn’t help but ask,“This Cui Hezhong, is his father the same Cui-daren currently serving as Left Assistant Administrator in Yunnan?”

Li Dongyang replied, “The very same. Wu-daren, you were recently transferred from Yunnan back to the capital, perhaps you’re acquainted with that Assistant Administrator Cui?”

Acquainted, yes…Wu Qi’s expression grew complicated. After a brief pause, he asked out of the blue:
“Has this Cui Xie… married yet?”

Li Dongyang, having some knowledge of his student’s family matters, shook his head. “No, not yet. My furen once tried to play matchmaker for him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Said he had to see his younger siblings properly married off first before he’d consider his own affairs. He’s still young and busy preparing for the spring exam, so I didn’t press it. Why, does Wu-daren have someone in mind?”

Wu Qi didn’t, in fact, have someone in mind.

He had once nearly served as a matchmaker for Cui Xie’s father back in Yunnan. Seeing the son now, he was simply… curious.

Cui Que had brought two concubines with him to his post and even sought to marry the daughter of his superior. But here was his son, dutifully looking after his younger half-siblings rather than scheming for a good marriage alliance from his teacher’s connections. Now this–this was a son who did not resemble his father at all.

Wu Qi had held a touch of prejudice toward the boy because of his father. But hearing now that the young man intended to settle his siblings’ futures before his own, he let out a long sigh and muttered,
“Ai… such a father, to have raised such a son!”

If Cui-daren back then had sought a marriage for his promising son instead of for himself, the boy might already be wed by now, post-exam and all.

What a pity. Wu Qi had once seen the makings of a perfect match, but how could he now serve as the go-between for a marriage involving the woman Cui Que once tried to marry… and Cui Que’s own son?

Shaking his head at the irony, Wu Qi kept his thoughts to himself. Once the Deer’s Cry was finished, he raised his cup and toasted the scholars with three rounds of wine, finally declaring the banquet open.

But the Luming Banquet was not just about food and drink, it was also a stage for displaying literary prowess.

Li Dongyang looked around at the hall filled with fresh talent and smiled, “Today, by Heaven’s grace, we are all gathered in joy, can we scholars truly spend the day only feasting and drinking, and forget our duty as men of letters? While reviewing your papers behind the curtain, I read many that brimmed with clarity and depth, surely your poetry is just as fine.”

So saying, he drained a cup of wine and, with scarcely a pause, composed this poem aloud:

“Twenty years ago I sat this feast,
Who would think I’d now hold the scales?
Full from office, yet still ashamed,
Heaven’s words strike even in dreams.
Dare I call these essays true masterpieces?
I know too well that honor is but smoke.
If wine today has gladdened all hearts,                                                                                         such is the Emperor’s virtue
Why can’t I finish a song of Zhou?”

“Dare I call these essays true masterpieces? I know too well that honor is but smoke”. Clean and distant in tone, truly lines of rare refinement.

With the Chief Examiner’s poem as the prelude, this year’s top scorer, the jieyuan, Zhang Zan confidently rose and saluted the assembly:  “Though I lack great talent, I dare offer a verse to stir the poetic spirit of my peers.”

His literary flair was indeed remarkable, or perhaps he had simply prepared well in advance. He opened his mouth and declaimed:

 “Flower pins in hair, toasts pass in turn,
On this auspicious day, a court of learning shines.
Stars descend to greet the scholars’ stride,
In fair winds and sun, the hats of graduates gleam.”

With such lofty elegance from the top scorer, the five top scorers of the Classics (the five jingkui) naturally could not sit idle. They followed with harmonious verses in the palace style, reciting lines like:

 “Auspicious clouds reflect the radiant dawn,
The brightest stars ascend, lighting the firmament.”

 And

“The pine and bamboo yield not to frost,
The sunflowers and beans forget not their duty to the realm.”

Before long, it was the turn of Zheng Zongren, ranked sixth in the provincial exam, who shared a table with Cui Xie. All these prodigies, somehow blessed with unending poetic inspiration, recited verses on the spot. Each poem was followed by a few words of praise from the examining officials and scholars, making Cui Xie’s nerves tighten even more. He wished he could quietly plead with his teacher to spare him from composing anything today.

But as the two scholars beside him completed their recitations, the moment of fate fell inevitably upon him.

With a stiff face, Cui Xie stood and closed his eyes, about to recite the poem he had painstakingly composed that morning:

“Newly ranked on the Dragon-Tiger rolls,
A Phoenix edict seeks worthy men…”

But before he could begin, Metropolitan Magistrate Wu smiled and asked aloud,
“Cui juren is a distinguished disciple of Academician Li, his essays noted for their clarity and form. The books he compiled have benefited scholars across the land. I imagine his talent for verse is no less refined?”

Li Dongyang modestly replied, “Wu da-ren overestimates him. This student has studied under me for but a few months, and only on the Four Books. I have yet to see any great poetry from him.”

Metropolitan Magistrate Wu chuckled, “Surely a worthy teacher raises worthy students. Just now, Academician Li spoke of failing to complete a poem in the Zhou’s Shijing style. Why not have your student fulfill that intention and compose a Zhou-style poem in your stead?”

And so, Cui Xie was “gently” pushed to change the poetic form, departing from the endless palace-style odes that filled the banquet.

Zhou-style poetry, also known as Shijing-style or four-character ancient verse, did not require strict tonal patterns and allowed looser rhyming. Compared to the rigid regulated eight-line poems of five or seven characters, it was far more forgiving. Moreover, he would be the first to try it that day; the others would be too busy adjusting their poems to notice any flaws in his. Better that than pitting his weakest skill against everyone else’s best.

Cui Xie was nearly moved to tears with gratitude. He quickly adapted the quatrains he had written earlier into four-character lines and began to recite:

“In autumn, osmanthus blooms;
Auspice fills the air.
Our bright dynasty,
Shines with ordered light.
All governance is just,
And talent is truly sought.
A sacred edict calls,
To summon the worthy.
The great lord selects,
And the feast is opened.
Noble stars attend,
In ranks we sit proud.
Born to such a time,
I must repay the realm.
Facing north in thanks,
I bow in deepest grace.”

Li Dongyang, having long held low expectations for his student’s poetic talents, his only impression coming from some lackluster verses collected in an old volume of 《Inks of Stone》, was shocked. He had always thought the boy lacked a gift for music or verse. He could recite theories from memory, yes, but rarely wrote poetry. Yet today, the boy had stood up and delivered such a fluent, full-length four-character poem, it was truly unexpected.

More than unexpected, he actually found the poem rather commendable. Compared to what Cui Xie had written in the past, was this not clearly a level above his usual work?

So surprised was he that he nearly forgot to offer a critique. Luckily, Metropolitan Magistrate Wu spoke first, clearly impressed: “His thoughts are swift, his mind agile, indeed a talent worthy of his name. To compose a four-character poem in the style of palace verse, he is clearly a proper gentleman and scholar.”

Most of the scholars below were too absorbed in preparing their own poems to pay close attention, but the few who had finished early nodded in agreement: “The tone is noble, the words resonate with loyalty and service. A graceful and dignified piece. To write such lines in so short a time, truly worthy of the man who compiled the Essential Guide to the Examinations.”

With the top officials and a few elite poets offering their praise, the rest of the scholars, having missed the poem or not daring to contradict the consensus, dutifully offered a few polite compliments before returning to the task of polishing their own verses.

Cui Xie listened to the string of favorable reviews, his tense body slowly relaxing. In his heart, he offered sincere thanks to Metropolitan Magistrate Wu… and silently, to Teacher Lu—Because Teacher Lu had been absolutely right: It’s not about being the best poet. It’s about being the first one done.

Be fast enough, and people would think you had a quick wit. And with that, you could bluff your way through almost anything.

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TN: Hi everyone!! I hope you guys had a great week ❤ Cui Xie is just the luckiest person ever LOL

Announcement: We have set up a kofi and patreon account! If you would like to support us or get early access to advance chapters to my current works (TMD and Spring Tree North fo teh Wei River), 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!

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