On the stage, Gao Yan finally finished reciting the “Code of Conduct.”
The surroundings were quiet at first, then whispered discussions began. The students still didn’t understand the meaning within this policy essay; they only knew it cited classics and was exceptionally elegant. But the gentlemen in the male guests’ section understood its deeper implications. This essay, seemingly casual, could pinpoint the loopholes in the current Ming-Qi legal system with one stroke and cleverly provide methods to remedy them. For a student, it was truly extraordinary.
The examining officials on stage probably hadn’t expected that Gao Yan was truly hiding his brilliance. However, rules must be followed—once there’s doubt about a student’s results, they naturally must be tested. Just like Shen Miao’s painting earlier, to be fair, this “Code of Conduct” essay was more brilliant than Shen Miao’s painting, excelling in both literary talent and practicality. The examining official asked: “As your policy essay just stated, the Ming-Qi code of conduct is too broad; you mentioned it needs to be carefully divided, so how would you subdivide it?”
Gao Yan was delighted—besides this “Code of Conduct” essay, the manuscript also had a question that matched exactly what the examining official was asking. He felt deeply grateful to whoever wrote the manuscript for him, thinking he must give them a larger silver reward later. Therefore, he calmly stood tall with his chest out and answered according to the manuscript: “Divide it into three levels—commercial, official, and civilian paths should all be separated…”
Below the stage, Imperial Court Historian Gao was already smiling from ear to ear. His current position in officialdom relied solely on the Emperor’s support and his extensive network of connections. He truly didn’t have such genuine ability. Fortunately, he had a good son, Gao Jin, who, despite his young age, could help handle many matters. Now his second son, Gao Yan, was also showing such extraordinary talent—he would need to return to the ancestral hall to burn some incense and pray to their ancestors.
Gao Jin was smarter than his father and simply didn’t believe his brother could possess such wisdom. Being able to speak eloquently even when facing the examining official’s questions—surely the examining official couldn’t have been bought off too. Therefore, he was somewhat uncertain.
Pei Lang picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip, his hand trembling slightly. Somehow, every sentence Gao Yan spoke seemed to imprint itself in his mind. That familiar feeling seemed extremely absurd to him, and the anxiety within his heart couldn’t be calmed at all.
Su Minglang had just dozed off and saw everyone around him looking at Gao Yan on stage with admiration. He simply tugged at Old Master Su’s sleeve and asked, “Father, did he speak well?”
“A talented youth,” Old Master Su replied directly.
Su Minglang pouted, seemingly unable to understand. Looking around without seeing Su Mingfeng, he asked, “Why hasn’t brother returned yet?”
Old Master Su coughed lightly: “Your eldest brother is weak now. Coming today was already pushing himself—let him rest a while longer.”
Fu Xiuyi heard the commotion from this side and glanced at Old Master Su. Seeing the unchanged gloominess between Su’s eyebrows when mentioning Su Mingfeng, he thoughtfully withdrew his gaze.
Regardless, Gao Yan had fought this battle extremely well today. His smooth responses to the examining official’s questions dispelled everyone’s doubts. Without saying more, he naturally received “First Rank.” The ranking was secondary—in the future, when mentioning the Imperial Court Historian, besides Gao Jin, people would also know he had a second son who was a talented young scholar.
Gao Yan descended from the stage triumphantly. This round of “selection” thus concluded, and the women’s group “selection” began.
Feng Anning didn’t take the stage; she had always excelled in the “zither” category, and had already drawn the zither category earlier. Since she wasn’t outstanding in other areas, there was no need to go on stage. Shen Qing chose chess—she was good at calculations, and chess also required calculation, so it was somewhat her strength. Shen Yue, unsurprisingly, chose the “zither.”
Shen Yue had always loved these things that made her appear otherworldly. Since Chen Ruoqiu originally played the zither beautifully—not only playing but also composing small melodies and writing lyrics—Shen Yue had learned this skill extremely well. Every year she received first rank, and every year this was when everyone appreciated her zither skills.
In the women’s group, once Shen Yue was present, others wouldn’t choose the “zither” category to avoid embarrassing themselves. Shen Qing had naturally put in effort and received first rank in the “chess” category.
When it came around to the “zither” category, discussions began again among the audience.
Shen Yue ascended the stage gracefully, burned incense, and washed her hands. She was naturally delicate and gentle, her pink clothes soft and charming. With a faint smile at the corners of her mouth, she truly had the appearance of a fairy.
She played “Ode to the Moon.”
“Ode to the Moon” was an extremely difficult piece about a traveler far from home missing their homeland and relatives. The beginning was gentle and melancholic, followed by intense sorrow, ending with sighs. The progression tested zither skills greatly and was emotionally moving.
In her previous life, Shen Yue had also gained fame with this piece, becoming unrivaled for a time. In comparison, Shen Miao was even more unbearable. Thinking about it now, it seemed that each of Shen Yue’s praises came from stepping on Shen Miao’s misery.
Shen Miao looked at the young woman on stage.
Shen Yue had already begun. With one pluck of the strings, they seemed to come alive, becoming infinitely soft and flowing under her hands. The melody was ethereal, with a lingering charm that floated into the ears of everyone present. Her fingers flew over the strings like butterflies flitting through a sea of flowers, each transition naturally perfect.
Feng Anning bit her lip; even though she disliked Shen Yue, she had to admit Shen Yue’s zither skills were outstanding. In comparison, the piece for which she had received “First Rank” earlier seemed extremely clumsy.
It was a song about missing relatives and homeland, yet it made Shen Miao’s fists gradually clench.
Even in this second life, the dead could not be revived. Wanyu and Fu Ming would never appear again. Shen Yue’s song was like a funeral bell of vengeful lament. To the listeners, it offered no comfort, only blood vengeance.
Cai Lin ran outside the seating area. He tried hard to get closer to the high platform to catch every expression of his beloved. He was immersed in the beautiful zither music when suddenly his concentration was broken by people talking.
“Second Miss is so unfortunate. She never placed second, but Fifth Miss used some scheme to snatch first rank from her.” The speaker was a slender girl. Cai Lin recognized her as Shuxiang, Shen Yue’s maid, and unconsciously looked in that direction.
“Indeed, and Fifth Miss didn’t even choose a ‘selection,’ clearly intentionally opposing Second Miss,” another maid said.
“Sigh, it’s just a pity our Second Miss is kind-hearted and has privately endured so much from Fifth Miss. Isn’t Fifth Miss just relying on the First Master to dare treat Second Miss this way? Poor Second Miss, after preparing for so long, had her fruits stolen by someone else.”
“If only someone could avenge Second Miss, like… during the ‘challenge’ round, making Fifth Miss go on stage?”
“What nonsense are you talking about?” Shuxiang interrupted her. “Everyone knows Fifth Miss doesn’t understand zither, chess, calligraphy, or painting. Challenging Fifth Miss would just lower one’s status. I think it’s impossible in the women’s group. If someone from the men’s group challenged her, that would truly avenge Second Miss.”
The conversation gradually quieted. Cai Lin’s eyes moved slightly as he looked at Shen Yue on stage, forming an idea in his mind.