"Copy it onto three sheets of paper." Feng Yuan selected a passage from each of the three chosen pages and instructed his attendant to transcribe them.
"Poetry, Politics, and Military" was compiled over several years by both the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Rites of the Great Qin Dynasty, fusing together poetry, historical records, governance, agriculture, and military tactics into a single tome.
It can be said that, to master even a small portion of "Poetry, Politics, and Military" is enough to attain honors in the examinations and benefit a region.
But in turn, the dense interweaving of so much content renders it extremely obscure and difficult to comprehend.
Even though only three segments were selected—from less than a thousand words—it was almost impossible to commit all of them to memory within two hours.
Moreover, the selection of these three passages was not done at random—there was clear intent behind it.
The first segment was a synthesis of poetry and military skill—the most challenging, as military skill is hardest to memorize; he had deliberately placed it on the first page.
The second and third were from historical records and agricultural administration, considerably easier, set on the latter two sheets.
This was, in fact, a trap: to stubbornly wrestle with the hardest first segment would certainly waste much time, leaving no room for the following two pages.
It appeared to test memory, but in truth, it also gauged adaptability.
"Luu Hong, would you care to look?" Feng Yuan picked up the three transcribed sheets and slid them to Luu Hong's side.
"Very well."
Luu Hong was already curious about this newly compiled "Poetry, Politics, and Military," and since it was also set by Feng Yuan, he figured he'd seize the chance to take a look.
Yet when his eyes landed on the first page, his expression changed; after glimpsing pages two and three, he relaxed only slightly.
"Lord Feng, you are indeed wise."
"Heh, does Luu Hong not worry?"
Feng Yuan rotated his tea cup, eyes sharp as an eagle upon Luu Hong.
The real reason for this extra test was that among today's examinees, there was the son of a private tutor.
And the topic of the academy exam had been set by Luu Hong himself.
Private schools were the most basic means the Great Qin Dynasty used to discover talent, scattered across little places like Liuu Town, often poorly managed, and corruption or favoritism abounded.
Although he was well-acquainted with Luu Hong, having been classmates for several years, human nature is ever uncertain. He despised falsity above all, thus the added test.
Luu Hong, hearing this, shivered uncontrollably. Startled, he scrambled to his feet and stammered, "Lord Feng, this academy exam was strictly in accordance with the Great Qin Dynasty's requirements. No one but myself knows the contents of the exam..."
This Lord Feng is testing him!
Feng Yuan folded up the papers, eyes never lifting: "Why so flustered, Luu Hong? I'm only asking if these three pages—do you consider their selection appropriate? Are they worthy as exam content?"
Luu Hong gazed at the four transcribed sheets, inwardly bitter.
You're the official—what you say, goes.
Moreover, you've already had them copied—now you ask if they're meaningful?
"Lord Feng, the content is indeed representative. Especially the first page, with military skill—its memorization is not the most critical; it's about testing one's capability to adapt..."
...
Outer Hall.
At first, the boys there for the academy exam busied themselves joshing with Huang Lu, but as the wait dragged on, their patience wore thin.
"Why hasn't it started yet?"
"Yeah, it's agonizing—I need to go home for dinner, my mother's waiting."
"You don't suppose it's cancelled?"
"Don't say that—let's just get it over with!"
"..."
Just as whispers spread, Luu Hong entered, stern-faced, a sheaf of papers in hand.
"Here he comes, here he comes."
Immediately, the boys straightened up at their desks, sitting with utmost formality.
Chu Ming chose the very last seat nearby and waited for papers to be distributed.
Strangely enough, he actually felt a flare of nostalgia—almost like an exam from his previous life.
Yet the sensation lasted barely a moment before he returned to calm, as usual.
After all, he had sat for no end of major and minor exams in his past life. He was long since inured to such things.
The other boys were not so calm—their faces taut, hands trembling with nerves.
Chu Ming glanced to the side at Huang Lu—his desk was shaking so badly it seemed about to tip over.
The tension always heightened just before the papers came out; once they had questions in hand, they'd likely settle down.
"The exam is two hours. No one may leave once it begins. Write your name first when you get your paper. No whispering—anyone caught will have their score voided, and won't be allowed to take the academy exam again for three years!"
"..."
Luu Hong rattled off the usual regulations before finally handing out the papers.
Chu Ming kept a placid expression as he examined the exam sheets before him.
The content was much as in years past: the test covered the "General Theory of the Book of Songs," "Essence of Classics and History," and "Complete Book of Agricultural Administration"—the three standard books.
With his ten-lines-at-a-glance ability, he scanned all three sheets in short order.
The first two papers were simple recitation: in modern terms, these would be fill-in-the-blank or dictation exercises, spelling out poems or passages from memory.
The first half of the third sheet was the same; only the last two questions resembled reading comprehension.
Though called "reading comprehension," in essence, they still tested how well you remembered the contents of the three books, and whether you could apply them.
To Chu Ming, such matters were utterly trivial.
But for the other boys, no such ease—few could write with as much poise as he.
Take the towering lad from earlier: he scribbled a few lines here, a few there, making sure to jot down what he could before it fled from memory.
And beside him, Huang Lu was fighting to steady his shaking desk; as for the page, apart from his name and a handful of the easiest questions, nothing else came to mind.
As for others—scratching heads, biting pen ends, staring blankly, or scribbling nonsense—this was the norm for many.
In the outer hall, apart from Chu Ming, only Chix Lin, Guan Chong, and Luu Xian looked composed—one sitting back in contemplation, another bowing over his writing.
Every move the boys made was caught by Luu Hong up on the dais.
After all, he had set the test. While he had not leaked any content, he had, in private, frequently nudged Luu Xian toward the main points.
Barring surprises, Luu Xian would surely be first in the exam.
Only Lord Feng's extra question worried him, but then he recalled Luu Xian's memory was the strongest among them—if his own son couldn't recall, neither could anyone else.
Luu Hong swept his gaze, closely watching every young scholar.
Meanwhile, in the courtyard, Feng Yuan sat upright on a stone bench, holding a teacup, eyes as sharp as knives fixed on the outer hall.
As time slipped by—and before two hours were up—Chix Lin, Guan Chong, and Luu Xian were the first to finish, excitement clear in their eyes; they seemed confident in their answers.
The three threw sidelong glances at the rest, full of disdain—until their gazes crossed, whereupon a steely edge flashed in each eye.
Soon after, over a dozen more boys turned in their papers, though their uneasy faces spoke of mediocre performance.
Chu Ming, however, was still reviewing his paper, pen in hand.
He wasn't checking for wrong answers, but considering where he might deliberately introduce a few mistakes.
With a perfect paper, he'd stand out too much—so he made a few errors on purpose to disguise his strength.
Nor did he dare to insert too many mistakes, as he was unsure of the others' abilities—so he only altered a few trivial points.
He'd draw a line under the correct answer, scribble down something wrong, then cross it out, write in the right one, cross that out, and finally scribble the error again—giving the impression that he was uncertain, constantly erasing and rewriting.
Once satisfied, Chu Ming glanced sidelong at Huang Lu, who by then had fallen asleep, slumped over his desk...
Soon enough, the two hours were up.
"Time's up—pens down, and place your papers at the edge of the desk," Luu Hong announced sternly as he began collecting exams.
"Mr. Luu, he's still writing."