Understanding doesn’t mean acceptance. Xie Yan treated it like summarizing the rules of writing an essay—he needed to recognize that such a mindset existed. Over time, many approaches led to the same outcome. Just as in debates or strategy exercises, he had to imagine other positions to prepare material for discussion.
The essays he now wrote didn’t carry his “true” or “false” angles; he simply felt that, for this question, this was the right way to answer.
His ideas weren’t necessarily the best. Whether he would teach, serve the public, or assist a ruler, he needed to consider multiple perspectives and choose the most suitable approach, rather than following his own whims.
Cui Zhongqing seemed satisfied, nodding and smiling. “You’re no longer as arrogant as before. Have your thoughts changed? What do you wish to do after the imperial exams?”
Xie Yan replied honestly, “I want to teach.”
Cui Zhongqing asked, “At the Guozijian?”
Xie Yan didn’t know—he’d see where he could go.
He thought that no matter how influential a family was—even the emperor’s children had to study. If he excelled, he could be a remarkable teacher, attracting students whose families would protect Lu Yang. After all, it was just teaching—a way of doing business, nothing more.
To achieve this, he first needed fame.
After returning to the provincial capital, he would apply to a local academy, using his rank as a scholar to teach. Being a jieyuan guaranteed invitations from academies. He would establish his reputation, occasionally hold study gatherings, and attract students. Later in the capital, he would gauge the situation and consult Wu Ping—if viable, he would proceed the same way.
Some children of officials wouldn’t enter the Guozijian. He had heard that officials accepted students—some genuine, some friends’ children. He intended to take a few as well.
Cui Zhongqing told him the Guozijian would suit him. “Why have you suddenly stopped thinking about studying and want to teach?”
Xie Yan clarified, “I want to study first. Only by mastering books can I teach well.”
Cui Zhongqing understood: Xie Yan still aimed for the Hanlin Academy, to read extensively before deciding where to teach.
If the Guozijian accepted him, he would go; if not, he could take students at home.
Xie Yan beamed, his excitement written all over his face. He was clearly daydreaming.
Cui Zhongqing continued, “With your talent, two years of official experience could make you a capable officer. Why limit yourself to studying and teaching?”
Xie Yan shook his head, realistic. His smile turned serious. “Knowing and doing are two different things. What I remember and understand is far from what I can actually accomplish. For someone like me, teaching could help students who will benefit the people. If I went into governance myself, I might fail the populace—even unintentionally.”
Cui Zhongqing studied him for a moment, then left a letter.
“After you return to the provincial capital, give this to my father. He’ll provide some books. We’ll meet in the capital next year.”
Xie Yan accepted the letter, grinning.
“Second Brother Cui, I didn’t mention it earlier, but I’ve already seen your books. The notes were very helpful. Don’t worry—I was careful, didn’t tear or mark a page, and returned everything intact.”
Cui Zhongqing: “…This silly boy has charmed my father quite well.”
He waved dismissively. Xie Yan happily tucked the letter away.
After him, other examinees waited to meet the chief examiner. Xie Yan rejoined his friends and relayed the experience. Nearby scholars listened attentively, relieved that the chief examiner was approachable.
But in just two sentences, Xie Yan had been inside long enough for others to feel awe-struck.
The chief examiner, polite but concise, had spent a considerable time with Xie Yan, far more than with the others, leaving them anxious.
Given this precedent, the room examiners seemed exceptionally friendly in comparison. Conversation with them was casual and warm.
Xie Yan received small favors at the room examiners’ stations as well.
He shared selectively what he learned from Lord Cui, gaining praise and becoming one of the most admired among the scholars.
After all visits, the Luming Banquet concluded.
The next day held a gathering of peers. Xie Yan stuck close to friends, ensuring he wasn’t left out, navigating the event smoothly.
Lu Yang went to the docks to find a boat for their return home.
By coincidence, he had heard news of Hong Chu while exploring the provincial capital but hadn’t met him—until now at the docks.
Having resolved his thoughts, Lu Yang considered Hong Chu only as a friend, waving when he saw him. They shared a meal together at the docks.
Lu Yang avoided alcohol, drinking only tea.
He said, “You may drink if you want, but I won’t join. My husband forbids alcohol—it harms the body. I want children soon, so no drinking lately.”
Hong Chu glanced at his belly, then at Lu Yang’s smiling face, and drank tea with him.
In the provincial capital, Xie Yan’s name was already well known. Hong Chu toasted him, congratulating him on passing the exams, calling him “Scholar Husband.”
Lu Yang smiled warmly. “It was tough, but we got a good outcome. How’s your business? Did the deal go through?”
The docks were noisy; they had to raise their voices.
Hong Chu seemed less spirited, appearing worn compared to their last meeting. He had his two guards stationed outside before speaking with Lu Yang.
“I didn’t come for business this time. I came for matchmaking.”
Lu Yang’s eyes widened. “Matchmaking? From so far away? Normally, the groom’s side would visit your family to propose.”
Hong Chu nodded solemnly. “Indeed. But I’ve settled it—no one dares trouble this family again.”
Lu Yang, noticing his melancholy rather than joy, didn’t press further. He offered food with communal chopsticks to encourage him to eat more.
“When are you returning to the provincial capital? I’ll book the boat in the next couple of days. If we meet, we can leave together.”
Hong Chu couldn’t wait—he would depart today.
He didn’t intoxicate him, yet he seemed drunk with emotion.
He confided to Lu Yang: “If only we could pass the exams too. A man could change his fortune through them; many of modest birth rise through this path. I’ve overheard much discussion here in the capital, and it unsettled me.”
Lu Yang saw his dejection and asked, “Were you pressured into this match?”
He could read the cues. Hong Chu didn’t respond, but Lu Yang noticed the subtle signs—he had indeed been coerced, not acting willingly.
Lu Yang understood. In his childhood, Old Master Chen often threatened him with expulsion. Later, they pressured him with marriage arrangements.
Old Master Chen had a knack for finding unsuitable men—Lu Yang admired that skill.
Even when marriage decisions were not his to make, he tried in many ways to persuade Old Master Chen to cancel arrangements, but couldn’t. He switched matches with his brother; fortunately, Li Feng turned out well.
He explained to Hong Chu, “Every family works this way—they need methods to control you. You may succeed in business, impress your household staff, but your relatives won’t respect you—they’ll see you as an obstacle. If they can’t oppose you openly, they’ll use subtler means. Subtle interference is tricky to avoid; arranged marriage is more straightforward. No man escapes marriage pressure—much less us.”
