Traveling Through Ancient Times to Be a Teacher - Chapter 49

Steward Xu left a pile of things behind, then climbed into the carriage and departed—leaving little Zhongli Yu by himself.

The boy neither cried nor fussed. As if nothing had happened, he finished lunch and immediately pestered Chu Xiaoyuan to go out and play.

“Um, Yu’er, did Grandpa Xu say when he’ll come pick you up?” Chu Ci asked tentatively.

“Grandpa Xu said I can play for as long as I want. He’ll send people every three days with supplies. When I want to go back, I just need to get on the carriage. I brought my clothes, toys, and homework, so don’t worry, Uncle Chu,” the child replied sensibly.

Chu Ci didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. He could easily imagine the boy begging to come here and refusing to take no for an answer. If the Kou household had room, Steward Xu would probably have stayed as well.

“Very well, then. You can sleep with your Uncle Chu tonight.”

“No! Uncle, I’m sleeping with you too!” Chu Xiaoyuan cried out immediately. He usually slept with his grandmother, but now that Yu’er was going to sleep with his uncle, he wanted to as well.

“Xiaoyuan,” Shen Xiuniang said softly.

Her gentle voice alone made him fall silent, though his mood turned sour. 

When he led Zhongli Yu outside afterward, his steps were quick and impatient, as if he didn’t want the other boy walking beside him.

Zhongli Yu, oblivious, just grinned and ran to catch up—unbothered by his cold attitude.

Chu Ci shook his head and chuckled as he returned to his room.

He opened the bundle Steward Xu had brought and found several books and a few trinkets inside. The books were Gazetteer of Anchang, Travel Notes of Anchang, and Tales of Anchang—apparently gifts from Kou Jing, who’d noticed Chu Ci’s keen curiosity about the city.

Chu Ci opened the Gazetteer of Anchang and began reading slowly…

By dusk, as the women called out, “Time to go home for supper!”, the village children scattered in all directions—except for Chu Xiaoyuan and Zhongli Yu, still lingering by the road.

They had been playing marbles made of mud that day. To his surprise, Xiaoyuan discovered one thing his clingy classmate was good at—Yu’er’s marbles were perfectly smooth and round, strong enough to hit the ground without shattering. Thanks to him, Xiaoyuan won round after round against the other kids.

“Here, you can have these,” Xiaoyuan said, dividing the pile of mud marbles in half.

“I don’t want them. Keep them, Brother Xiaoyuan—you can let me play with them whenever I visit,” Yu’er said sweetly.

Fine by him. Xiaoyuan quickly gathered the marbles back and decided to officially consider Yu’er his little underling—ranking right after Dazhuang.

…

Chu Ci made himself a strict daily schedule.

Wake up at five-thirty, start the day with fifteen minutes of the Five-Animal Exercises to strengthen his body in preparation for the grueling nine-day provincial exam.

Afterward, wash up for five minutes, then meditate for ten minutes to calm his mind.

Breakfast would be slow and mindful—fifteen minutes.

Then he would read: first one essay each from the Four Books and the great masters’ commentaries, analyzing their meaning, and then complete one essay assigned by his teacher.

After lunch and a short rest (a nap was forbidden—only a brief rest), he would begin memorizing the Five Classics. Since the original body’s studies had focused mostly on the Book of Songs, Chu Ci decided to alternate—memorizing one passage from the Book of Documents and one from the Spring and Autumn Annals daily, then drafting one essay question of his own.

After dinner, he would take the two children for a walk around the village, then return to write one poem per night, each with a different rhyme. He would then read two chapters of history and write a hundred-word reflection before washing up and sleeping.

Once the plan was made, he carried it out. Chu Ci, in truth, was a man of strong self-discipline.

Days slipped by. 

One morning, he saw his mother removing the white mourning cloth from the gates and sleeves and realized that it was already the sixteenth day of the third month.

The fifteen-day mourning period had ended. The new emperor was indeed the second prince. On the fifteenth, he ascended the throne and declared the new era name “Tianhe.”

His first decree was a general pardon—all crimes except capital offenses were reduced by one degree. The imperial court also ordered an additional Grace Examination, and couriers spread the announcement across the provinces to prevent scholars from missing the upcoming provincial exam.

The news was a great relief. Normally, a new emperor would open a grace examination, but there had been exceptions. The previous dynasty’s Emperor Liang had died suddenly, and his young heir, under political chaos, hadn’t held one. The dynasty had soon fallen.

This year’s provincial exam (xiangshi) would be especially competitive. The title of Juren (provincial graduate) earned during a grace exam carried more prestige than usual, and those who passed this year could immediately sit for next year’s metropolitan exam (huishi).

Ordinarily, only those who entered the palace exam (dianshi) under the emperor’s supervision could be called “students of the Son of Heaven.” But this time, since the young emperor would serve as the nominal chief examiner, all successful candidates of this grace year could claim that title.

That meant—no matter how they ranked afterward—they would be considered disciples of the emperor himself. 

Such a title gave any official promotion an extra half-rank advantage over peers. Who wouldn’t want that?

But the odds were brutal: only ninety Juren out of three thousand Xiucai per province. A mere three percent. And from those three thousand Juren nationwide, only three hundred would become Jinshi (metropolitan scholars). 

No wonder people said, “Gold for the Juren, silver for the Jinshi.”

…

On the eighteenth day of the third month, Chu Ci took the two children to the Children’s Hall to report back after their leave, then headed to the Hall of the Sages (Xianxian Hall) for the reopening ceremony of the academy.

It was later than usual this year—the county exam and national mourning had delayed everything.

The academy’s imperial examination program was divided into three classes:

• Provincial Exam Class,

• County Exam Class,

• Juvenile Class (for pre-county scholars).

Each was further divided into Class A (jia), Class B (yi), and Class C (bing)—ranked by ability.

The Provincial Exam Class consisted mainly of young Xiucai, most in their twenties. Class A contained the best—the top twenty of each session.

The County Exam Class held slightly older students, mostly those who had already passed the county or prefectural exam but hadn’t yet attained Xiucai rank.

The Juvenile Class contained the youngest—graduates from the Children’s Hall or those who had failed the county exam once or twice.

The academy held a monthly exam, and ranks were adjusted accordingly. Three consecutive poor results meant dismissal.

When Chu Ci entered the Hall of the Sages, the Provincial Exam students were already gathered, filling the hall. 

He hesitated, unsure where to stand.

“Brother Chu, over here!” a familiar voice called. It was Chen Zifang.

“Brother Zhongxing! It’s been days—you look even more spirited,” Chu Ci greeted, clasping his hands.

“Haha, and you, Brother Chu—more refined than ever,” Chen Zifang replied.

As they chatted, the room suddenly grew quiet. The Academy Headmaster entered with ten senior instructors and twenty assistant teachers.

All students saluted in unison: “Greetings, Headmaster! Greetings, honored instructors and teachers!”

Their voices echoed through the hall. The Headmaster, smiling faintly, said in a booming tone, “No need for excessive ceremony.”

“Thank you, Headmaster.” They bowed again, then straightened.

After the usual formalities, it was time for the most anticipated event—the class assignments.

At the Headmaster’s signal, Instructor Jiang stepped forward with a list.

“Provincial Exam Class A,” he announced, “the following twenty-eight students—Qi Xu, Jiang Huai… Zhang Wenhai Ding…”

Some remained calm, others nearly burst with joy. Those moving up from Class B or C couldn’t hide their pride.

“Next, Class B: Luo Yingshu, He Jin…”

“Next, Class C: Zhu Xiang, Zhu Jie… Chu Ci—these forty-two students, step forward.”

Chu Ci winced. He hadn’t taken last year’s final exam, so his score was naturally zero. No wonder he’d been placed in the lowest class. Embarrassing, yes—but understandable.

Still, out of 120 students, only 110 names were read. Class B was full, but Class A was short by two, and Class C short by eight—meaning ten had been expelled.

“Instructor,” one student called out, “I ranked first in Class B last term. Why am I not promoted to Class A?”

Instructor Jiang replied, “By tradition, the top scorer of the most recent prefectural exam (yuan test) is automatically placed in Class A. This year’s Anshou (first-place scholar) Fang Jinyang has already registered, so one spot must be reserved for him.”

“But that’s only one person—there should be one more spot!” the student protested. 

Class A’s privileges were far greater than Class B’s.

“There is another rule,” Jiang continued. “Students transferring from the Prefectural Academy may also enter Class A directly. This term, Chen Zifang from the Prefectural Academy enrolled earlier, so the second slot was reserved for him.”

The complaining student had no choice but to step back. 

Standing behind Chu Ci, Chen Zifang looked slightly sheepish. If he’d known, he thought, he might have joined Chu Ci in Class C instead; he’d rise soon enough after a month anyway.

Chu Ci, however, felt genuinely happy for his friends. Still, when Fang Jinyang arrived, he was going to give that brat a talking-to. They’d met just yesterday—why hadn’t he mentioned it?

And Zhang Wenhai too—he’d probably be starting from Class C alongside him.

Sure enough, as Instructor Jiang continued, Zhang Wenhai’s name was among the new students assigned to Class C.

When the roll call ended, the crowd parted down the middle, leaving a path for the new Xiucai to enter the hall.

Chen Zifang had quietly slipped out through the side door earlier, unaware there was an entrance ceremony.

The new students marched in proudly, led by the instructor. Their faces shone with pride—the title of Xiucai truly was an honor.

When Fang Jinyang caught Chu Ci’s gaze, he offered a sheepish smile. 

Chu Ci returned it—with an expression dark enough to make him wilt. Then he turned that same look on Zhang Wenhai.

Zhang Wenhai had been grinning ear to ear, exchanging greetings with everyone. But the moment he met Chu Ci’s eyes, his smile froze—like a rooster being strangled mid-crow.

It’s over, he thought miserably. Brother Chu is angry again!