Zhang He was a man of ordinary looks.
He wasn't particularly ugly, nor was he particularly handsome.
At most, you could say his features were regular and his bearing passable. Among ordinary people, he ranked somewhere below average. Among Literary Scholars, he was definitely one of the ones dragging the group down.
Kang Shi had once thought him insufficiently handsome and, prejudiced on that account, refused to pledge himself to Zhang He. He was unapologetically shallow.
At first, Kang Shi sounded pretty awful. If he didn't like the man, fine—but why attack his looks? Why judge a book by its cover?
In truth, this was no exception.
That was simply how things were.
Before Xin Country fell, the selection of talent involved more than the openly stated criteria of family background, character, ability, and Literary Heart rank. There was also one hidden but impossible-to-ignore standard—looks!
With a handsome face, it was easier to ascend to the Son of Heaven's court.
If you weren't good-looking, it was very hard to get selected.
Take Zhang He, that unlucky fellow.
Though he came from humble origins, he was at least the son of a collateral branch of a fallen minor clan, barely qualifying as a member of the gentry. His background passed muster, and with a high-middle Literary Heart rank and character and ability that placed him among the best, he should have had little trouble being selected for office.
He should even have been a sure thing.
But he was plain-looking, and he stumbled three times at the hidden "looks" stage—three attempts, three rejections.
Zhang He naturally wasn't willing to live like that forever.
So he found another path. With his superb medical skills, he entered Xin Country's Imperial Medical Bureau and, in just a few years, rose to the position of