Chapter 150
Chapter 150
The time allotted for the written examination was three sessions, a total of six hours. But Fatty Jin Mucong copied so quickly that he was nearly finished in a quarter of an hour. And his script was exceptionally neat and well-written.
‘Oh my god! There are still five hours left. What should I do?’
Fatty Jin Mucong scratched his ear, then stroked his chin, at a complete loss.
‘Should I just turn in my paper now? No, no. Brother-in-law would kill me. I’d better just keep copying.’
And so, Fatty Jin Mucong continued to copy the text. This time, he restrained his speed, carving out each character as if it were a sculpture. He wrote with such devotion that it seemed as if flowers might bloom from every stroke. Once again, Jin Mucong became completely absorbed in his own work.
‘Ah! In this dull life, copying books is the most entertaining thing. This room may not have birthed a great literary master, but a master calligrapher has just been born. I, Fatty Jin Mucong, may not be a genius, but the amount I've written in a month probably surpasses what you all have written in a lifetime. I've written five hundred thousand characters in a single month. Who dares to challenge me? Who?’
Tang Yun composed his thoughts for a full session, then smiled faintly, as if he were about to conquer the task with his brilliant intellect. With a stylish flourish, he ground his ink, selected a brush, gently adjusted the tip, and artistically dipped it into the inkwell before squeezing out a slight excess. Then, his brush danced across the paper as if possessed.
‘Now, behold, everyone! Don't I look magnificent? I, Tang Yun, am the rightful heir of a century-old noble house, the Third-Place Laureate in the State of Yue's palace examination. My life is destined to be dazzlingly brilliant. Every move I make radiates light. Excellence, nobility, arrogance, and prejudice—these concepts are etched into my very bones. That's right, I am prejudiced. I, Tang Yun, look down on all of you. In my eyes, everyone here is trash. Shen Lang, you are no exception.
And Jin Mucong? My apologies. You don't even qualify as trash. You are but a maggot that feeds on trash. Didn't you latch onto Shen Lang to write that book, *Boundless Wind and Moon*? If that isn't the behavior of a fly feeding on garbage, what is?’
The more Tang Yun wrote, the more he felt his prose was brilliant beyond words.
‘Excellent, magnificent. Such elegant characters, such fine sentences, such profound meaning. How did I even conceive of such writing? I am in awe of myself. Tang Yun, where is the limit of your talent?’
As he wrote, Tang Yun felt his body grow lighter, as if he were floating.
‘If I had been in this state and written such prose during the palace examination, would I have stopped at Third-Place Laureate? I might have even taken first place.’
By the time he finished his policy essay, Tang Yun was in a state of extreme ecstasy. Thoughts on prose flowed endlessly, and his poetic talent gushed forth like a waterfall, impossible to stop even if he wanted to. An exquisitely beautiful poem took shape on the paper.
‘What a well-written poem. Even though I wrote it, I am so intoxicated by it that I could forget the taste of meat for three months. A pity. Truly a pity! To use such a magnificent essay and poem in a literary duel for the Jushan Island dispute. And against a maggot like Jin Mucong! What a disgrace! Writing this fine should be hung in the Great Yan Dynasty's Yanlong Grand Hall. The State of Yue is too small to contain a talent as immense as mine.’
After finishing, Tang Yun read his work three times. The more he read, the better it seemed! It was perfect; not a single character could be altered or moved. Tang Yun slowly rose from his seat, bowed to the supremely authoritative judges, and strode out. From beginning to end, he never once glanced at Jin Mucong.
When a person steps on an ant while walking, does he lift his foot to look at its corpse? No, of course not. He simply crushes it and carelessly scrapes the ant’s remains from his shoe onto the ground. At most, he might utter a single word of exclamation.
‘Ant Jin Mucong, you should be honored to die under my, Tang Yun's, foot today.’
Fatty Jin Mucong was still carving out his characters, one by one.
‘Wow, I think I've opened the door to a new world today. Who knew it would be this much fun to write with such care, one character at a time, concentrating my spirit on every single stroke? It's really fun. So much fun that I almost forgot I was in an exam, that I was just copying a text.’
Royal Uncle Ning Ji looked up at Jin Mucong and saw him writing with extreme slowness, one stroke at a time. The pace was so slow that if there wasn't a problem with his hands, there must have been one with his head. After a moment, Royal Uncle Ning Ji sighed in pity for him, then lowered his head and continued reading his book. Another session passed, leaving only half a session until the end of the exam. Finally, Jin Mucong completed the last character.
Relieved, entertained, yet so exhausted. The feeling of being completely spent was just like the night he first saw the large painting of a woman his brother-in-law had drawn. After writing the final character, Jin Mucong looked up and around.
‘Huh? Where’s Tang Yun? That show-off already left? When did he go? Well, I guess I should go too!’
As Jin Mucong stood up to bow to the three judges, his feet faltered. His back ached and throbbed; it seemed he had poured all his energy into his writing, leaving his body drained. Fatty Jin Mucong staggered away, his retreating figure looking particularly pathetic.
Royal Uncle Ning Ji spoke.
“The written examination is concluded. You may enter!”
At the Royal Uncle's call, the Count of Xuanwu and the Count of Jinhai entered the examination hall, followed by several eunuchs, each with a refined, scholarly air. They were the palace scribes, solely responsible for transcription.
“Jinhai, Xuanwu. Choose a scribe to transcribe the examination papers. He will copy the two young masters' essays and poems onto paper, then seal the names before presenting them to us for reading.”
“Understood!”
The Count of Xuanwu and the Count of Jinhai designated a scribe. The refined-looking eunuch stepped forward and, with a neutral expression, first transcribed Tang Yun’s essay and poem. He then moved on to Jin Mucong’s essay and poem. As he copied, his expression shifted slightly before returning to impassivity as he continued his work. Seeing his subtle change in demeanor, everyone thought the same thing.
‘His expression changed just from looking at Jin Mucong's writing. Just how bad must it be? Is it so awful you can’t even bear to look at it? You have our sympathies. You have to copy it no matter how terrible it is. It must be like having to close your eyes and eat something you know is covered in filth.’
The eunuch finished copying both papers, sealed the names to conceal their identities, and temporarily sealed the original answer sheets from Jin Mucong and Tang Yun. The judges would only unseal the originals to check for errors after reading the transcribed copies. Thus, the written examination was conducted with utmost fairness. The name-sealed transcriptions were placed in a box, shuffled, and then drawn for grading.
The grading of the examination was to be primarily handled by Royal Uncle Ning Ji and Marquis Suoxian. The Duke of Wei was a military man and had little interest in such matters. Marquis Suoxian was now reading Tang Yun's policy essay and poem.
“Excellent! Well written. The paragraphing, the characters, the intent—all are flawless. Had this essay been submitted in the palace examination, it would have surely secured a high rank. Remarkable. The talent of the younger generation is truly formidable. To be able to write such prose at such a young age is truly admirable. The poem is well-written too. Magnificent, simply magnificent!”
Though he didn't say the name, Marquis Suoxian was certain in his heart that this was Tang Yun's work. The former Grand Chancellor felt that there was no need to worry about this literary duel; the winner was already decided. His only concern had been what kind of essay Tang Yun would produce, and Tang Yun had not disappointed, delivering an exceptionally fine piece. And Jin Mucong? He figured the idiot’s writing would be nauseating, not even worth a look.
To the side, Royal Uncle Ning Ji had picked up Jin Mucong’s paper. He was completely stunned. At first, he was so moved that he was about to slap his knee and exclaim in admiration, but his hand stopped before it could strike. That would have seemed too frivolous. Some writing elicits constant admiration, while some makes one tremble and feel ashamed of oneself. The policy essay he was reading was the latter.
What made this essay so precious was not its ornate language but its profound purpose. Unlike others' writing, there was no trace of careful pandering. It was as noble as a refreshing breeze and the white moonlight, prose that seemed born of divine inspiration. Reading the mere six hundred characters felt like hearing the clear, resonant tolling of a bronze bell. After finishing the policy essay, Royal Uncle Ning Ji couldn't resist reading the accompanying poem, *The Tortoise Lives Long*. He found himself reading it aloud.
“An old steed in the stable still longs to run a thousand li; a hero in his twilight years still harbors high ambitions.”
The meaning sent a chill down his spine, raising goosebumps all over his body. It was so well written. The poem was majestic in spirit and deeply thought-provoking. Royal Uncle Ning Ji, being nearly eighty himself, resonated with it all the more. Reading this poem felt like meeting a brilliant, kindred spirit he had been searching for his entire life.
‘Magnificent, simply magnificent! It's beyond words; I feel I should prostrate myself. I want to bathe and burn incense before reading it again with reverence. But does Tang Yun possess this level of talent? I don't think so!’
Knowing Jin Mucong to be nothing more than an idiot, Royal Uncle Ning Ji instinctively thought this paper must be Tang Yun's, but the style was different from the Tang Yun he knew. Tang Yun tended to over-embellish his ambitions, showing them off without knowing how to conceal them. His writing could be called top-tier, but it wasn't of a caliber to win a championship. Just then, Marquis Suoxian, beside him, said:
“Royal Uncle Ning Ji, look at this piece I have. It's so well-written. A magnificent work.”
The two men exchanged the papers they held. The moment Royal Uncle Ning Ji started reading Tang Yun's policy essay, his brow furrowed. Ordinarily, he would have praised Tang Yun’s writing as excellent, but after having just read Jin Mucong’s paper, Tang Yun’s work seemed unbearable to look at. It was vulgar prose, full of startling words meant only to curry favor and win praise.
‘What is this?’
To be honest, Tang Yun’s writing was quite good. It was particularly adept at using ornate words to create a surprising effect. Had he only seen Tang Yun’s essay and poem, he would have felt a sense of satisfaction and admired it as excellent. But after being exposed to a policy essay by a master like Su Shi and a poem by a master like Cao Cao, the situation had changed entirely. Tang Yun’s essay and poem were no longer even worth mentioning.
How to describe it? Imagine you had just spent the night with a legendary beauty like Audrey Hepburn and were basking in the most exquisite afterglow. At that moment, if a heavily made-up woman from a club came over and hit on you, not only would you not get hard, you would feel disgusted. Normally, you might have been tempted by her and immediately started planning a passionate one-night stand, but after a sublime night with a goddess, deep in post-coital clarity, would you even entertain such a thought? Royal Uncle Ning Ji was in precisely that state, and Tang Yun’s writing seemed unbearably vulgar to him.
And then there was the other man, the former Grand Chancellor, Marquis Suoxian, reading Jin Mucong’s paper. He had just emerged from the ministrations of the club girl. Ah, no! He had just emerged from the baptism of Tang Yun’s ornate prose and was now reading Jin Mucong’s paper—that is, the policy essay of Su Shi and the poem of Cao Cao. He was suddenly plunged into a strange state. To use an analogy, it was like this:
‘Did I… did I really just treat a woman like that as a goddess? Now, a true goddess has appeared before me. Seeing this goddess, I've gotten hard, but… I feel incredibly ashamed. Was my taste really that low? Does someone with such base tastes as mine even deserve to sleep with a goddess?’