They had a residence not far from the examination hall, originally the private property of the academy head, but due to its proximity, it had been repurposed as lodging for the academy's teachers.
Late into the night, Zuo Zhengjian and Li Jinren were still awake, playing chess in the pavilion, though their minds were far from the game.
"I heard this year's chief examiner is from Suzhou Prefecture. The questions will be tough," Zuo Zhengjian sighed, placing a black piece.
Suzhou was a hub of scholars—literati were as common as hairs on an ox, and their academic standards were high. Many of the court's great Confucians and imperial tutors hailed from Suzhou. Meanwhile, their Yong'an Prefecture was just a remote district under the jurisdiction of Changnan Province, with scarce educational resources. Facing such an examiner, one could easily imagine the candidates in the examination hall being tormented by the questions, unable to sleep.
And this was only the first day. There were still the second and third days to come.
If their confidence was crushed on the first day, what would become of them on the following days?
Perhaps because he had once fainted from rage, Li Jinren had since adopted a more detached outlook—managing what he could and letting go of what he couldn't. Hearing Zuo Zhengjian's complaints, he remained unfazed: "It's fine. There's always next year."
After all, the Xiucai exams were held annually. If they failed this year, they could always try again next time—it wasn't as though the opportunity was lost forever.
Zuo Zhengjian, seeing how his once stern and diligent colleague had become so indifferent, couldn't help but feel exasperated—especially toward that student Xu Huaqian. "I'm worried the chief examiner for the provincial exams might also be from Suzhou."
Their academy wasn't just preparing童生 (Tongsheng) candidates for the Xiucai exams; they also had Xiucai students aiming for the举人 (Juren) rank. While their prefecture was conducting院试 (prefectural exams), the provincial capital was simultaneously holding乡试 (provincial exams).
Once the provincial exams concluded, the newly minted Juren from their academy, along with a few who had failed previous会试 (metropolitan exams), would set off for the capital to continue their pursuit of进士 (Jinshi) status.
It was somewhat embarrassing—though their Qinglian Academy had been operating for over a decade, they had only produced two Jinshi graduates, both ranked as同进士出身 (third-tier Jinshi), who had gone on to serve as county magistrates in other regions.
They couldn't contribute resources to the academy, nor could they assist their junior fellows, let alone benefit their hometown.
Zuo Zhengjian had originally hoped that, with the new dynasty's establishment, he could nurture a generation of students who would spread across the empire. If even one among them rose high enough, they might remember their impoverished roots and enact policies to benefit their hometown.
Slowly, Yong'an Prefecture—and even its subordinate counties—might prosper.
Alas, small regions remained small regions. Talents were scarce, and each cohort of students seemed duller than the last. There were a few bright ones, but they simply refused to apply themselves.
At the mention of the provincial exams, Li Jinren also set aside his relaxed demeanor, pondering for a moment before conceding helplessly: "There's nothing to be done. Even if the provincial exams don't collide with a Suzhou examiner, we'll inevitably face one in the capital."
For several consecutive terms, the metropolitan exams had been presided over by Hanlin academicians from Suzhou and Jiangnan, setting notoriously difficult questions. Their academy had already gone two terms without producing a Jinshi.
If they failed again this year, it would mark three consecutive terms—nine years—without success.
Nine years! How many nine-year spans did a person have? Not just the students—even he, as academy head, was beginning to lose heart.
Zuo Zhengjian was full of self-reproach: "When it comes down to it, it's my fault as academy head. If I had followed Qixian Academy's example earlier and sought out a teacher from Suzhou to instruct our students, would things have been better?"
That was hard to say.
Li Jinren fell into silence. He had once had the opportunity to observe the teaching methods of that Suzhou-born teacher at Qixian Academy. He found their approach was solely focused on exam-taking—drilling students with massive amounts of practice until they could write answers upon seeing any question.
But those essays were all craft without soul, utterly lacking in inspiration, and the answers were monotonously identical. After such training, students would only parrot classical phrases without understanding anything else beyond the texts.
The purpose of reading and studying was to help people understand principles and grasp realities, not to turn them into tools solely for passing exams, devoid of their own thoughts.
Yet, one had to admit, this method worked. Qixian Academy had produced one Jinshi graduate three years ago!
Although it was only at the very bottom of the Second Class, it was still far better than their Qinglian Academy, which had never produced a Second Class Jinshi and had even gone three years without any Jinshi at all.
Now, many students single-mindedly pursuing official rank had gone to study at Qixian Academy. Only those deterred by the long journey or who preferred Qinglian Academy's environment remained.
If they didn't find a way to improve their academy's Jinshi success rate, Qinglian Academy might very well degenerate into an ordinary school within a few years.
"Let's wait until the metropolitan exam results are posted this spring before deciding," Li Jinren said. Privately, he still didn't approve of such a teaching style—what was the point of turning vibrant students into dull, mechanical examinees?
But if that was the only way the current system selected talent, he might have to compromise. He couldn't let the academy's students fail forever.
Not wanting to dwell on such unhappy matters, he brought up something more pleasant for both of them: "I wonder if Meng Fangxun can secure the top rank this year?"
Thinking of this year's chief examiner being from Suzhou, the academy head felt half his hope drain away: "It will be very difficult."
"It's more likely that Zhong Yichen from Qixian Academy will take the top spot."
It wasn't that Zuo Zhengjian lacked faith in his own student; he knew Meng Fangxun's literary style simply didn't align with the preferences of the Suzhou examiner.
The imperial exams weren't just about knowledge—luck also played a role. If one恰好 (chanced) to catch the examiner's eye, even a poorly answered paper might pass.
Zhong Yichen had been taught meticulously by a Suzhou teacher, so his essays were sure to please the examiner.
Fortunately, Meng Fangxun wasn't one to fiercely compete for fame and gain. He was someone who would be satisfied as long as he maintained a position within the top three.
Zuo Zhengjian didn't hold out hope for the top rank, but he believed Meng Fangxun could surely secure second or third place for him.
Li Jinren thought so too and moved past the topic of the top rank: "What about the other students?"
"I noticed that Zhang Bingwen from Class C and Xu Huaqian from our Class B have been studying under Meng Fangxun for the past two months. Do they have any hope?"
Although Li Jinren wasn't particularly fond of Xu Huaqian and the others—they had been so mischievous back then that they made him faint twice—he had to admit they had been working quite hard.
Their intense effort during the last two months at the academy had actually impressed him. They might be mischievous, but they had drive when it came to studying.
Especially Pei Wangshu, who had been so undisciplined before but had actually persisted for two months—it truly made him see them in a new light.
"Zhang Bingwen might barely scrape through at the very end," Zuo Zhengjian shook his head. "The others are far from ready. Cramming for just two months and expecting to pass the exams in one go? If the exams were that easy, what would we two be worrying about here?"
Zuo Zhengjian had seen how hard Xu Huaqian and the others studied at the academy, but he still didn't think they were up to standard.
Zhang Bingwen had a good foundation because his grandfather was a teacher himself, and he had been drilled since childhood. But because he was too conventional and lacked originality, saying he might barely pass was only because Zuo Zhengjian felt that for his young age, having such solid knowledge was commendable.
As for the remaining three...
It wasn't that Zuo Zhengjian wanted to criticize them, but they were simply too far behind!
He wouldn't even comment on Pei Wangshu—there was simply no hope.
He worried that the examiner wouldn't even want to look at Duan Youyan's paper because of his handwriting and would (fail him directly. Xu Huaqian's handwriting was beautiful, but his answers were too full of empty, impractical grandiosity. Both would find it difficult.
Li Jinren sighed after hearing this: "What a pity, though—Xu Huaqian's excellent handwriting."
Zuo Zhengjian also sighed. People from Suzhou had a great love for calligraphy. Many students practiced from birth, enduring the hottest summer and coldest winter days, all to develop excellent handwriting that would catch the chief examiner's eye during the exams.
Their Yong'an Prefecture students were mostly poor. Studying alone strained their families' finances—how could they afford extra paper and ink for calligraphy practice? Even those with good handwriting usually came from wealthy families where food and clothing weren't worries; they learned it as a treasure to show off, with little connection to the exams.
But Xu Huaqian's handwriting was different—elegant and free yet powerful, with strokes that were soft but not weak, sharp but not harsh. The more one looked, the more pleasing it became.
Privately, Zuo Zhengjian had even collected several of Xu Huaqian's essays. Ignoring the content, they could serve as good practice models for his young grandson.
If only Xu Huaqian's knowledge were a bit more solid, that excellent handwriting alone might have allowed him to scrape through. What a pity—he was just a little short.
Just that little bit of effort away.
Zuo Zhengjian also felt deeply frustrated. If Xu Huaqian had come to the academy a year earlier, given his determination to study despite his frail health, he could have ensured Xu Huaqian passed this time. Unfortunately, two months was just too rushed.
But it didn't matter. This time would serve as experience for him. When he took the exams again next year, he wouldn't be so frantic.