TGPSAC – Chapter 117

The Spring Examinations in the second month were not postponed and were held in the capital as scheduled.

The Grand Princess ordered: the safety of the scholars must be guaranteed, and the Spring Examinations must not be disturbed under any circumstances.

After Chi Wan finished proctoring the examinations, she would lead the Capital Camps out to intercept the Beining army.

Hearing that the Fuma was going to the battlefield, many scholars signed up to go as well.

They shouted outside the Princess’s Residence, “We scholars are not so weak we can’t even truss a chicken.”

“As proud Qian Yuan, how can we stand by idly when the nation is in peril?”

“We students can wield a blade too.”

Chi Wan held great influence among the scholars. She had fought for them outside the imperial palace, done much for them afterward, and guaranteed the fairness of the imperial examinations. She had also opened numerous bookstores where one could borrow books at a low price or buy them cheaply.

It could be said that she had done a great deal for education and for the scholars of the realm.

Having books to read and ensuring the fairness of the imperial examinations—these two things alone were enough for the scholars of the realm to remember her for a lifetime.

After learning she was going to the battlefield, many scholars began to petition to join.

Because of the Spring Examinations, some of Great Zhou’s juren had gathered in the capital.

Perhaps some had chosen not to come for the examinations upon hearing of the Beining army’s attack, but many more had still chosen to come to the capital.

They had studied bitterly for so many years—not just ten years. Some began their studies at the age of three or five. A bright child might pass the tongsheng examination before eighteen, become a xiucai in their early twenties, a juren three years after that, and finally a jinshi.

And that was for the intelligent ones. There were others who might never become a xiucai or juren in their entire lives, which was the origin of the trope of the impoverished scholar.

Of course, there were geniuses in this world: a twelve-year-old xiucai, a sixteen-year-old juren, a twenty-year-old jinshi.

But geniuses were always few and far between. Most were people who had studied for twenty years, all for that final step.

How could they give up on the Spring Examinations? It was impossible.

Yet, at a time when the nation’s survival was at stake, many among them were willing to go to the battlefield. It was a shame that such a group of people would later be corrupted upon entering officialdom.

Chi Wan listened to the voices outside and nudged Yu Jiuzhou with her shoulder. “I didn’t expect my reputation to be this good.”

Yu Jiuzhou gave her a helpless look. The nudge had made her sway. “You are a saint in the eyes of the scholars.”

“Is it that exaggerated?” A saint? Surely not.

Yu Jiuzhou snorted lightly. “Why not? In all the imperial examinations throughout history, how many have been completely fair and just?”

And that wasn’t all she had done.

In short, the scholars were the beneficiaries of Chi Wan’s many actions.

Chi Wan had always believed that only by developing education, the economy, and technology in tandem could she lead Great Zhou down a different path from the typical feudal imperial system.

If children could receive an education and have absolutely fair examinations, if economic development could ensure that everyone had enough to eat, and if technology could also help feed the populace—this was the way. Technology included agriculture and, naturally, military affairs. Great Zhou had to have a sufficiently strong army.

Otherwise, it would be like the Song dynasty: wealthy and with relatively fair examinations, but lacking dignity in foreign affairs.

All things considered, her arrival had allowed these aspects of Great Zhou to develop very well.

In education, she had established schools, lowered the price of books, and ensured the fairness of the examinations.

In terms of the economy, she had introduced so many new things that the Princess’s Residence’s annual income of tens of millions of taels rivaled that of the Great Zhou national treasury. If they wanted, it could be even higher.

There were more money-making plans, but those would require the emperor’s decision and would have to wait until after Emperor Shengyuan’s death.

As for technology, there was steelmaking, firearms, cannons, and various agricultural advancements.

If not for Chi Wan, who knew how long it would have taken for Great Zhou to develop these things? It was even possible that they would only have been discovered by a new dynasty after Great Zhou had been destroyed.

She had also trained an army that would press forward with indomitable will.

Unwittingly, Chi Wan’s influence on Great Zhou was multifaceted.

She had done so much more. If not the entire Great Zhou, at least the capital had been affected by her influence, and the Princess’s Residence had been completely transformed because of her.

However, it seemed Chi Wan herself hadn’t realized just how much change she had brought to Great Zhou.

Yu Jiuzhou reached out and tapped her on the head. “Aren’t you going to persuade them?”

“Of course I am.”

Chi Wan casually pinched Yu Jiuzhou’s cheek, getting revenge for the tap on her head.

“You wicked thing,” Yu Jiuzhou huffed, following her toward the door.

Chi Wan just needed to show her face; Yu Jiuzhou would watch from behind.

As expected, Chi Wan had a way with words and persuaded the scholars outside with just a few sentences.

“Fighting is a matter for soldiers, for me, the commander of the Capital Camps. What you should be doing is preparing for the Spring Examinations. For those who pass and become jinshi, I will prepare another test. Those interested in military affairs can join the army and become scholar-generals.”

Of course, Chi Wan didn’t think many people would take this test.

In the current era where civil officials held higher status, very few would choose to become military officials.

Naturally, it wasn’t unheard of for a jinshi to become a military official. Perhaps their civil career path was not smooth, or perhaps they suddenly displayed great military talent one day and rose through the ranks quickly.

In fact, some of Great Zhou’s armies were also under the control of civil officials.

But commanding an army was different from being a military official.

If someone was truly willing to become a military official after passing the jinshi examination, she wouldn’t mind giving them a chance.

In addition, Chi Wan said a few more things that left the scholars with a fire in their bellies.

They couldn’t help but wonder: Why couldn’t Great Zhou defeat Beining? Why could the Beining army advance so deep into their territory?

Great Zhou was vast and abundant in resources, with a larger army. By any measure, it should not be comparable to Beining.

The efforts of countless scholars eventually led them to summarize many reasons.

After the examinations, there would be such a question. But it would be an open question, not counted toward the final score. However, those who answered well could be admitted through an exception—though not as jinshi, of course.

A juren was already qualified to be an official, and the army happened to need highly educated personnel.

Many soldiers were rough and uncultured, and not many were literate. Even among mid-level officers, literacy was not common. Only upon reaching high office might they make an effort to learn to read.

In reality, many famous generals were able to read military texts, which showed just how important literacy was.

Chi Wan thought she could take this opportunity to create a military officer examination—not the kind for the top military graduate, where the one with the highest martial prowess became the champion, but one that primarily tested military capability.

She decided to establish a military academy. Written exams, physical fitness, and team combat exercises—she had to train a batch of highly capable officers.

She couldn’t possibly start by teaching them to read; that would be too difficult. It was better to select from those who were already literate.

Especially among the xiucai and juren, there were always some whose talents went unrecognized. What if a blind cat stumbled upon a dead mouse?

Right now, what Great Zhou lacked most were generals, both mid-level and high-ranking. Thus, a military academy was crucial. The first, second, and third graduating classes could slowly be selected from the schools Chi Wan had established.

In modern terms, it was like applying to a military academy.

These things had to be done slowly; they certainly couldn’t be accomplished overnight. For now, Chi Wan was more interested in seeing what kind of surprises the scholars would give her with this open question.

Of course, precisely because it was an open question, scholars with connections could have someone else answer it for them.

So what? Those with backgrounds had more to worry about. Would they dare to openly criticize the emperor and the powerful clans in their own names? They themselves were part of those clans.

Those with nothing to lose have nothing to fear. There were some things they might not dare to say.

Of course, there would be an interview after the written test; it wouldn’t be that easy to pass.

Chi Wan just wanted to see the difference in perspective between scholars from powerful clans and those from common backgrounds. If she could truly find relevant talent, that would be wonderful.

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The weather was perfect today. Chi Wan and Yu Jiuzhou were reclining on lounge chairs, basking in the sun.

The sunlight was so pleasant that both of them were about to doze off.

Suddenly, a burst of crying woke them up. They turned their heads to see the two little ones also sunbathing.

The current sun was just right. A canopy shielded the two little ones as they received the sun’s baptism—good for their health without getting them tanned.

When it came to sunbathing, sun protection was still the first priority.

Chi Wan saw at a glance that the one crying was Guiyi. That little one cried much more than her older sister. The sister, on the other hand, a baby just a month old, probably couldn’t see very clearly and relied only on scent for recognition. But she always used her pair of eyes to watch the world, round and round.

Even though she probably couldn’t see anything clearly.

The strong older sister and the crybaby younger sister—this was a common occurrence in the Princess’s Residence.

Guiyi was very delicate and would cry at the slightest discomfort, whereas Chenchen would just whimper a few times to express her displeasure.

The former would cry until she felt comfortable again; the latter would just state her needs and be done with it.

Chi Wan put a hand to her forehead. “They’re only a month old, and they’re already crying this loudly. Are they going to tear down the Princess’s Residence when they’re older?”

Yu Jiuzhou gave her a strange look. “So Chenchen is like me, and Guiyi is like you.”

Chi Wan: “?”

“How is she like me? I wasn’t a crybaby when I was little.”

Yu Jiuzhou glanced at her sideways. “Do you remember your own childhood?”

Chi Wan laughed awkwardly. After a moment, she said, “Alright, I was a crybaby when I was little, but Grandma said there was a reason for it.”

“What reason?” Yu Jiuzhou was quite curious.

“Because Grandma had a lot of housework. If I cried softly, she couldn’t hear me. I had to cry loudly for her to hear my needs.”

Guiyi was different. She had so many attendants around her; her needs would surely be noticed immediately.

Yu Jiuzhou looked at her, amused. “Perhaps it’s an inheritance from the soul.”

Chi Wan was speechless. The more she explained, the less clear it became.

“Why is Chenchen like you, then?”

“I was not a crybaby when I was little. At most, I was like Chenchen—if I was hungry or uncomfortable, I’d call for the people around me.”

Yu Jiuzhou tilted her head back, looking lofty and superior, indicating that such tearful matters had nothing to do with her.

Her Highness the Grand Princess was noble. No one could enter her sight. All people and things were treated equally—as either mortals or trash.

Mortals were further divided into ordinary mortals and capable mortals, but to Her Highness the Grand Princess, they were all just mortals.

Chi Wan looked at the proud Grand Princess and raised her eyebrows in amusement. “Alright, how could our Grand Princess ever cry?”

“Of course.”

Yu Jiuzhou stood up. As she walked past Chi Wan toward the two little ones, she left behind a perfectly straight back.

Chi Wan smiled, got up, and followed her.

She saw Yu Jiuzhou cradle the tiny Guiyi in her arms. Miraculously, perhaps because of the scent of a mother, the little one stopped crying the moment she was in her embrace.

A tiny little bundle, utterly adorable.

Looking at the little one in her arms, Yu Jiuzhou thought: Was Chi Wan like this when she was a child?

Probably. She looked very similar, and she was also a crybaby.

Chi Wan had no idea what Yu Jiuzhou was thinking. She mimicked her and picked up Chenchen, but Chenchen swung her hand and slapped her right across the face.

?

Why was this little one still so fond of hitting her, just like when she was in the womb?

She was only a month old and already slapping her.

Good grief. Your mother was always trying to kill me back then, and now you two little ones are always hitting me, is that it?

Chi Wan wanted to pinch Chenchen’s cheek but found she couldn’t bring herself to do it. In the end, she restrained herself and could only threaten quietly, “Just you wait until you’re older.”

Hearing her threat, the corners of Yu Jiuzhou’s lips curved into a beautiful smile.

“Did you hear that? When you two grow up, your mother is going to discipline you.”

Chi Wan chuckled lightly. “Then your other mother had better protect you well.”

“Hmph!” Yu Jiuzhou gave her a flirtatious glare. “How do you know we won’t discipline them together?”

A joint effort?

But ever since giving birth, Yu Jiuzhou’s every move seemed to be filled with a myriad of charms. She was so bewitching that it made Chi Wan’s heart pound like a drum.

Chi Wan feigned nonchalance as she put Chenchen down, then took Guiyi from Yu Jiuzhou’s arms and placed her in Xia Qu’s.

She took Yu Jiuzhou’s hand and whispered, “Is that so? Then could Your Highness give me a little lesson?”

Huh? What a strange request.

When Yu Jiuzhou saw the wicked smile on her face, she understood her meaning, and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

Then, she said with a straight face, “Stop fooling around. Come with me to review the memorials.”

Chi Wan quickly followed behind her, unable to suppress the smile on her face.

Her Highness was putting on a serious act, but she had actually agreed.

She trotted happily after Yu Jiuzhou, even linking her arm through Yu Jiuzhou’s, like a charming little wife.

Xia Qu, watching them leave, shook her head. “Why do I feel like the Fuma is the one who’s like a young maiden?”

Chun Gui nodded in agreement. “You have a point.”

Then she looked at Guiyi in Xia Qu’s arms, who seemed to have merged with her. “How is it that when you hold Her Highness Guiyi, one can’t even tell there’s a person in your arms?”

Xia Qu snorted coldly. “Better than a statue.”

She glanced at Dong Ying beside her, who was holding Chenchen without daring to move, as if frozen in place.

Only when Chenchen shifted uncomfortably did she stiffly change her hold.

Seeing their gazes on her, Dong Ying said curtly, “What?”

Xia Qu laughed loudly. “I never thought Commander Dong Ying would be afraid of a little baby.”

Dong Ying: “…Shut up.”

“Tch! Don’t think I’m scared of you just because you’re imitating Her Highness. If you’re so capable, then hold Her Highness Chenchen properly.”

Xia Qu was truly asking for a beating. If Dong Ying hadn’t been holding Chenchen, she would have definitely sought her out for a spar.

Chun Gui, Xia Qu, Qiu Lai, and Dong Ying, along with the other eight, made twelve people watching over the two little ones. It was quite a crowd.

Usually, Chun Gui watched them the most, as the other three had other duties.

Chun Gui watched the two of them, clearly enjoying the show, and had someone take Chenchen and Guiyi back inside.

What followed was a great battle. In the past, Dong Ying would have completely dominated Xia Qu. But now that Xia Qu had learned internal energy, she actually had the strength to resist. They exchanged blows for nearly a hundred rounds.

In the end, Xia Qu was still defeated and taught a lesson.

No wonder they said Xia Qu was afraid of Dong Ying; it was a fear beaten into her.

The commotion outside did not affect Chi Wan and Yu Jiuzhou in the slightest.

The room had multiple layers of doors. Once the door to the heated chamber was closed, no sound from outside could be heard.

Similarly, whatever noises they made inside could not be heard outside.

“Reviewing memorials” was their secret code, like “reading a quiet book.”

When Yu Jiuzhou ran her ten fingers through Chi Wan’s hair, Chi Wan felt her scalp tingle, a numbing sensation flooding her heart and making her feel as if she were about to fly.

When it came to serving the Grand Princess, she was absolutely dedicated.

Until Her Highness the Grand Princess relaxed in satisfaction.

Chi Wan was also very satisfied. She felt that her princess was becoming more and more delicate, and she now possessed the air of a mature woman.

How to put it… Yu Jiuzhou had always had a mature personality, but now she exuded the deliciousness of a ripe peach from the inside out.

She didn’t know if her senses were playing tricks on her, but every time she saw Yu Jiuzhou, she couldn’t help but want to stick to her.

Her Highness the Grand Princess, playing hard to get, only served to entice her more, leaving her unable to stop.

Chi Wan rubbed her head against Yu Jiuzhou’s neck, infatuated. “Your Highness, I feel like I can’t be away from you for a single day.”

Yu Jiuzhou tweaked her ear. When her gaze touched the corner of Chi Wan’s lips, her pupils contracted sharply, and she casually raised a hand to wipe away the residue there.

“Always thinking of mischief?”

“Not at all. I’m not that kind of person,” Chi Wan declared solemnly, insisting she was a proper person.

But how could Yu Jiuzhou believe her? She had only one response to that statement: “You are.”

Er…

Chi Wan gave a dry laugh. “Don’t be so blunt.”

“I am not one for subtlety.”

“That’s not what Your Highness was saying just now.”

As soon as Chi Wan’s words fell, Yu Jiuzhou covered her mouth. “You’re not allowed to say it.”

She pulled Yu Jiuzhou’s hand away and pinned it to the side. “Why not? Your Highness told me to be forceful.”

Yu Jiuzhou couldn’t help but kick her.

Chi Wan feigned grievance and turned her back. Just when Yu Jiuzhou was wondering if she had been too forceful, she heard her mutter, “This Chi toils away diligently, only to be beaten.”

As soon as she said it, Yu Jiuzhou kicked her right on the bottom.

Don’t think I don’t know what you mean by those words.

Chi Wan clutched her bottom, her face full of innocence. “Your Highness is so fierce.”

“So what if I am?” Yu Jiuzhou snorted, proud and aloof.

Chi Wan shrugged. “Of course, your subject wouldn’t do anything.”

“But…”

Before she could finish, she pounced back on her. “But I will eat Your Highness up.”

Yu Jiuzhou couldn’t help but laugh out loud, then weakly tried to push Chi Wan away.

This strength was nothing like the powerhouse Grand Princess who had just kicked Chi Wan off the bed.

The two of them played around, and the heated chamber filled with laughter.

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At the same time, an expected turmoil erupted in Jiangning.

In the temporary palace in Jiangning, inside the emperor’s bedchamber.

An old man, barely able to get up, lay on the dragon bed. If one didn’t look closely, they might not recognize him as Emperor Shengyuan.

On the road from the capital to Jiangning, Emperor Shengyuan had begun to regret his decision. He found that his body was getting weaker and weaker with each passing day of travel.

He fell ill before even reaching Jiangning. When he finally arrived, the imperial physicians accompanying him were helpless, even telling Prince Bao’an that his end was near.

That day, Emperor Shengyuan realized that everyone around him, except for Wang Hai, had been replaced.

The people serving him were strangers, and Wang Hai told him that they were now confined to the bedchamber and could not go anywhere.

Emperor Shengyuan knew this was house arrest.

So he had Wang Hai summon Gu Cheng, the commander of the Imperial Guard, only to find that the Imperial Guard confining him had been sent by Gu Cheng himself.

Having been emperor for so many years, how could he not understand the situation?

Prince Bao’an had colluded with Gu Cheng, the commander of the Imperial Guard, to trap him in the palace bedchamber. The reason was obvious.

One wanted the throne, the other wanted the merit of helping a new emperor ascend.

Emperor Shengyuan had never imagined that the Imperial Guard he had so carefully selected would betray him.

He had Wang Hai try to get a message out through the Palace Command. Half of the people in the Palace Command had been trained by Chi Wan, and they certainly wouldn’t listen to Prince Bao’an and Gu Cheng.

But it turned out that all of them had been sent away. Not to mention that they were few in number, even if they could see the emperor, they wouldn’t be able to save him.

Besides, before they left, the Fuma had told them to cooperate with Prince Bao’an as much as possible, to prioritize their own survival, and to wait for the signal to act.

Emperor Shengyuan’s health was what it was; there was no use in rescuing him. On the contrary, they would be framed and branded as treacherous rebels. If the emperor died in their hands, no matter how he died, they would be blamed for his murder.

So, the best thing for them in Jiangning was to do nothing.

Emperor Shengyuan’s current fate was the result of his own choices.

He was the emperor; he had so many options. But time and again, he made choices that led him into this predicament. What could others do?

Emperor Shengyuan had Wang Hai contact the Palace Command, but to no avail. It could be said that he had only Wang Hai by his side; there was not a single other person he could trust.

He thought he would be imprisoned until his death, but it wasn’t that simple.

Prince Bao’an came to him with a blank imperial edict. “Your Majesty, I hope you can name me as the crown prince.”

First, crown prince. Then, when Emperor Shengyuan died, he would be the rightful emperor.

How could Emperor Shengyuan agree? He was the emperor, a sovereign. He would absolutely not write such an edict.

The result was that Prince Bao’an starved him for a day, and then he agreed to write it.

To be precise, it wasn’t even a full day. He had eaten breakfast but was denied lunch and dinner.

The next morning—or rather, before morning arrived—Emperor Shengyuan had written the edict and had someone inform Prince Bao’an.

Because it was too late, no one dared to disturb Prince Bao’an, so it waited until morning.

Wang Hai was speechless, feeling contempt for Emperor Shengyuan’s decision. A dignified emperor, acting like this?

But so what? That’s what he did.

Prince Bao’an was very satisfied with the edict, but then he asked, “Why was the seal not used?”

The Son of Heaven had different imperial seals, but the seal for succession could only be the “Treasure of the Emperor of Great Zhou.” Only such a seal could be stamped on such an edict.

Emperor Shengyuan hesitated for a long time before saying, “Give Us food, or you can forget about it.”

Wang Hai quietly watched Emperor Shengyuan’s performance. Wasn’t it because the imperial seal had been taken by Her Highness the Grand Princess? Her Highness was no fool. The emperor was leaving, so why would she let him take the seal with him? That would be tantamount to handing the legitimate throne over to Prince Bao’an.

It wasn’t that what Emperor Shengyuan wrote was completely invalid; it still had some use, just not much. After all, something without the imperial seal could hardly be considered legitimate. What if the emperor had been coerced?

And that was indeed the case.

Wang Hai could only think, Her Highness the Grand Princess promised she would send people to rescue me. When are they coming? I’ve really had enough of this dog emperor, Shengyuan.

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Footnote:

1. Tongsheng Examination (童生试): The initial, entry-level series of exams in the imperial examination system. A candidate had to pass this multi-stage examination (typically administered at the county, prefectural, and academy levels) to earn the status of Tongsheng (童生), which was a prerequisite for attempting the Xiucai (秀才) examination. Passing the Tongsheng exam did not confer an official title or privilege but was the essential first step for any scholar seeking an official career. It is often translated as the “Budding Talent Test” or “Qualifying Exam.”

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