The day before the exam, the side hall of the Zhou Residence.

The side hall smelled of aged wood and old scrolls. Zhou Kang held a cup of hot tea, blew away the foam, his eyelids drooping as he listened to the house steward who stood bowed before him.

The steward was the gate attendant, quick with his tongue and tasked with recognizing visitors.

“Second Young Master, I went to the west market this morning and saw two people, they looked terribly familiar.” The steward rubbed his hands, a cautious expression on his face. “I looked closely and—hey—aren’t they the two country kids who came to petition Second Madam before the New Year? Zhao Rui from Su Family Village, and that quiet one, Su Ming.”

Zhou Kang’s sipping motion froze. He lifted his eyelid a sliver, revealing murky but shrewd eyes beneath.

“Them? They’re back for what? The exam?” Zhou Kang set the cup down, the porcelain bottom knocking against the yellow rosewood side table with a crisp sound. He leaned forward slightly, and the laziness that had coated his face vanished, replaced by the single-minded focus of a hound catching a scent. “With just them? Zhao Rui’s an empty-headed fool, how could he possibly pass the County School exam?”

The steward dared not speak, only giving a few nervous chuckles.

Zhou Kang’s fingers tapped the table unconsciously, making a soft “tok, tok” sound.

Su Ming… that kid did have a certain edge, enough to make someone as proud as Yu Lin lower himself. But Zhao Rui? He was just a pile of useless mud.

Suddenly, the tapping stopped.

A cold smile slowly crawled up the corner of Zhou Kang’s mouth.

He thought of Zhao Rui’s father, the Village Chief of Su Family Village, Zhao Dequan. That kowtowing expression, that eagerness to grovel and throw everything on the table to curry favor with the Zhou family, was still vivid in his mind. Zhou Kang clearly saw what lurked in that man’s eyes—ambition, the desire to climb onto the Zhou family’s high branch through his son and then lord it over the countryside.

Now, that useless son was coming to take the County School exam? Staying in that shabby inn? Of course, Zhao Dequan must have instructed him. Afraid of being refused at Zhou’s door, he decided to act first and report later, hoping his son might luck into success and then flatter Zhou Kang in person?

Fools!

Zhou Kang snorted inwardly.

But the foolishness was perfect.

There was no way Zhao Rui could pass on his own merits. If Zhou Kang did nothing, Zhao Dequan’s move would be a dead play and he’d have needlessly offended him.

But what if… Zhou Kang “helped” a little?

It wouldn’t take much force, not even his personal appearance—just slip a vague favor to Professor Liu, let Zhao Rui’s name barely hang at the end of the list…

Then that “favor” would tie Zhao Dequan to him. Whether his son could stay at the County School, whether he might rise at all in the future, would be gripped tightly in Zhou Kang’s palm.

By then, the paper workshop in Su Family Village that made daily profit by the cartful… would Zhao Dequan still hide a share? Dare he not split some with Zhou Kang?

At the thought, Zhou Kang felt completely at ease. Even the noisy cicadas outside sounded far more pleasant.

He looked at the steward and his tone softened a little. “Mm, you did well. Good eye. Go to the accounting office and draw fifty wen, tell them it’s a reward from me.”

The steward’s joy was palpable. He thanked him repeatedly, bowed, and backed out.

The side hall was left with Zhou Kang alone. He lifted his tea, took a slow sip; the warm brew soothed his throat.

He gazed out the window as if he could already see Zhao Dequan’s fearful yet grateful face, and the steady stream of wealth, funneled bit by bit through his son’s fragile thread, flowing into his pockets.

“Zhao Dequan, Zhao Dequan,” he murmured, his voice full of the amusement of a cat playing with a mouse, “you sent your son right into my hands.”

This idle move might yield unexpected returns.

He set the cup down, smoothed his robe, and began planning how to open that barely noticeable channel with the starchy Professor Liu.

Finally, the day of the County School exam arrived.

That day, Qingshi Town’s air was thick with nervous ink fragrance.

Crowds thronged the County School gates. Hundreds of students from villages and towns gathered, their faces solemn, eyes carrying both hope and anxiety for the future.

Zhao Rui’s legs trembled and went weak, his face deathly pale as he clutched Su Ming’s arm, palms slick with cold sweat.

“Su Ming, I… I feel like I’ve forgotten everything. What should I do? My head is full of noodles, each one swaying…”

Su Ming pulled his arm free and patted his shoulder.

“Go in.”

The exam hall was the County School’s main lecture hall. Rows of separate desks were neatly arranged; the atmosphere was solemn. Several invigilators in black paced expressionlessly, their gazes sharp as hawks.

On the raised platform sat the two chief examiners.

The man in the center was Zhou Wenhai. Dressed in a dark Confucian robe, his face was stern and his gaze swept the hall with an inherent, unspoken authority.

Su Ming felt Zhou Wenhai’s eyes rest on him for a moment, carrying scrutiny and inquiry.

“Disciple, steady yourself,” Lin Yu reminded him. “That ‘comparison verification method’ of yours probably piqued his curiosity more than anything. He is more curious than anything else about you right now. Don’t show weakness—if you remain calm, he’ll think you are profoundly skilled.”

Su Ming lowered his eyelids, adjusted his breathing, and calmed himself like a deep well.

The first test: memorizing and transcribing scripture.

The invigilator read the first half of a passage aloud in a booming voice. Candidates had to write down the second half and the linked sentences within the allotted time.

“‘A gentleman attends to the root; when the root is established, the way arises’…”

The invigilator’s voice echoed in the spacious hall.

Su Ming dipped his pen in ink and allowed it to fall upon the paper with flowing strokes. These scriptures were long since burnt into his memory; writing them down was instinct.

Beside him, Zhao Rui was like an ant on a hot pan. He scratched at his head and fidgeted, the pen hovering, pressing down then striking through. His face flushed crimson and a fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

Time passed bit by bit. From his seat on the platform, Zhou Wenhai took in the scene below. He noticed Zhao Rui’s distress and barely furrowed his brow. Then his gaze returned to Su Ming.

That youth had maintained his posture from beginning to end, spine straight, expression focused, pen confident—no trace of panic.

As if this exam, which would determine the fate of so many, were nothing more than ordinary copying practice to him.

A hint of approval flashed in Zhou Wenhai’s eyes.

One hour later, the bell rang and the first test ended.

Invigilators collected the papers and candidates were allowed a short break in the courtyard.

When Zhao Rui stepped out of the hall, he collapsed against a pillar, looking utterly defeated.

“It’s over… completely over… There were three questions I couldn’t write a single character for…”

Su Ming handed him a water pouch.

“Get ready for the next exam.”

At that moment, a few well-dressed town students walked over. One of them spotted Su Ming and Zhao Rui and exaggerated his surprise.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep