Waking Up to Take the Xiucai Exam

Chapter One: Waking Up to the Prefectural Examination

Zi Bofeng shivered and jolted awake.

The air around him had grown colder at some point.

Did the heating go out? He only remembered being unable to withstand his advanced mathematics professor's hypnotic lecture. Unable to fight the urge for his eyelids to embrace, he had finally let the two lovers meet on the Magpie Bridge and head off to the Wushan mountains together.

That entanglement had resulted in a complete transformation of heaven and earth.

Huh... did I sleep for a long time? His arms were numb and his head felt muddled. Turning his head, he realized his desk-mate was gone. Didn't he tell him to wake him up before leaving?

And... where is this place? The scene before his eyes was no longer the classroom from before he fell asleep. His blurry vision couldn't make things out clearly, but he could see that the room was smaller than his previous classroom.

He stretched, cracked his neck from side to side until his joints popped, pushed his hands forward in a stretch, and shook his head to clear his vision.

The first thing that came into view was a broad back, clad in a cloth robe layered with patches. The man had short, coarse hair, but a small, ball-like knot was tied on top of his head with a square cloth, looking quite comical.

Looking around, most people were wearing similar clothing—some new, some old, some with their hair tied up, others not.

Zi Bofeng intended to look further, only to discover that he was wearing a similar robe himself.

A white robe with wide, flowing sleeves that could tuck his hands away entirely.

He lowered his head and saw that he was indeed wearing such a garment.

Did I accidentally fall asleep in a film school lecture?

Zi Bofeng was suddenly mortified. Why didn't anyone wake me up?

He looked around again and found a sheet of white paper on his desk, accompanied by a brush, ink, and inkstone. Beside them was a small scrap of paper with a line of ambiguous writing: "One person, two people; with heart, without heart."

Zi Bofeng picked up the brush and drew three strokes on his palm. Two curved upward, one curved downward—a smiling face.

Looking at that smile, Zi Bofeng started to giggle foolishly.

Suddenly, he heard a heavy cough behind him. Zi Bofeng turned around to see an elderly man dressed like an Old Scholar standing sternly behind him with his hands behind his back.

Zi Bofeng, still grinning, held up his palm to show the man, intending to be cute. Who would have thought the Old Scholar would raise his hand, striking Zi Bofeng's head with a small wooden rod, a foot long and two fingers wide.

The rod wasn't long, and the blow wasn't heavy, but as it tapped against Zi Bofeng's head, it sounded like a hollow gourd being struck with a "clack."

This strike was like the "shout and blow" of the Buddhists. Zi Bofeng let out a cry of pain as a sharp ache pierced his head, as if countless tiny needles were stabbing into his brain. Simultaneously, a flood of memories that did not belong to him surged forth.

What... is happening?

"Hmph, showing contempt for the examiner—what is the penalty for that!" Though he spoke of crimes, the Old Scholar did not pursue the matter, instead walking away with his hands behind his back.

Zi Bofeng trembled as if he had the chills for a long while before slowly lowering his hands from his head and sitting upright.

The memories that had just surged into his heart merged with his own, leaving his mind even more confused.

Everything before him was not a dream, but reality? Had he truly become another person?

And the place he was currently in was... the examination hall for the Prefectural Examination!

The so-called Prefectural Examination was the first step of the ancient imperial examinations. Passing it meant becoming a scholar, granting one official status. In modern terms, he had entered the system, become a civil servant, and opened up a path for upward mobility.

And right now, he was in the middle of the scholar's examination.

"There is one quarter of an hour remaining." The Old Scholar stood on the podium at the front, looking down at the candidates. He glanced at Zi Bofeng and couldn't help but shake his head, his disappointment plain to see.

Zi Bofeng remembered now: this Old Scholar was a highly respected man of great learning. Although he hadn't achieved a high official rank, his students were everywhere, and Zi Bofeng had received much guidance from him.

The Old Scholar's critique of Zi Bofeng had been: "Naturally intelligent, possesses a photographic memory, studies diligently, and has exhausted ten thousand volumes of classics, yet lacks the ability to adapt."

Children from poor families were often like this; limited by their narrow horizons, they only knew how to study hard by the window, treating the knowledge in books as divine decree without knowing how to be flexible.

In other words, he was a bookworm.

When the Old Scholar first met Zi Bofeng, he couldn't help but shake his head and stomp his feet. Such a promising seedling, yet he didn't know which private school teacher had taught him to become a machine that only knew how to recite books.

Zi Bofeng's "photographic memory" was famous. With such a talent, a single glance was worth a day of hard study for others. He could have used the remaining time to think and digest knowledge, but he didn't. He was a book-obsessed fool; whether it was the scrolls of great scholars or the scribbles of a three-year-old, he read them, memorized them, and knew them all.

However, being inflexible wasn't a fatal flaw. Being well-read and turning others' ideas into his own was better than knowing nothing at all, and passing the Prefectural Examination would have been no problem. With Zi Bofeng's rigorous and rigid nature, he could have secured a clerical job and lived a life without worry.

But this guy had been fast asleep ever since entering the examination hall. The Old Scholar had tried to nudge him twice, but seeing he wouldn't wake up, he had given up.

The examination hall was a fair place; if you gave up your own opportunity, you could only wait another year.

In truth, given Zi Bofeng's personality, it was impossible for him to be sleeping soundly in a place like this. He had been drugged.

The previous Zi Bofeng naturally wouldn't have thought of this, but the current Zi Bofeng, after a brief recollection, thought of the fellow student who had invited him for tea before entering.

Zi Bofeng looked left and right, spotting a Slanted-Eye candidate who turned back, smiled at him, and then turned away to write furiously.

Son of a—! Zi Bofeng was instantly enraged. It was this guy! He had been chatting him up earlier, acting as if he wanted to be close friends. Other classmates had warned him not to get too close to this person, and he had even lectured others about how "a gentleman is open and honest, while a petty man is always anxious." This time, he had truly suffered a great loss.

Although Zi Bofeng was inflexible, his photographic memory made him a formidable rival in the eyes of others!

Damn it, he didn't just harm the previous Zi Bofeng, he harmed this one too!

Calm down! Calm down!

This is the examination hall!

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. The previous Zi Bofeng had a calm personality, and this Zi Bofeng was even calmer. He looked down and saw that the paper must contain the questions for this exam.

So this is the imperial examination, huh? Heh, no multiple choice or fill-in-the-blanks, just an essay?

If you are afraid that I am too formidable and will block your path, then I shall block your path and see what happens!

Then let me settle the world with a single essay!

When it comes to exam experience, who could compare to a university student baptized by the college entrance examination? The entire process of reading, deconstructing, and answering questions was already etched into my heart; placed in this strange environment, it was only natural to bring it out and let it shine brilliantly.

One person, two people; intentional, unintentional. Just eight simple words.

Zi Bofeng immediately recalled the college entrance exam prompts: "Self-determined topic, self-selected angle, self-selected theme, poetry excluded, write an essay of over eight hundred words."

There were no excessive requirements, and the Old Scholar had said nothing before the exam began; it seemed that one was indeed meant to choose one's own topic.

These eight words could be interpreted from many angles, so... if this were the imperial examination...

Zi Bofeng recalled some rumors from before: this Prefectural Examination was for attaining the status of a Xiucai, but also for selecting officials. With chaos brewing and riots breaking out among the populace, there were too many troubles, and most of the existing officials were merely occupying their posts without doing any work. They were insufficient, so they needed to re-select some grassroots officials.

One person, two people; intentional, unintentional... Hmm, I shall answer based on individual incidents, group incidents, intentional crimes, and unintentional negligence.

Positive or negative? That is the question. Writing from a positive angle makes it easy to be identical to others, while writing from a negative angle makes it easy to go off-topic. Fine, I shall take the upright and honest path; a correct worldview is the kingly way!

Having considered the topic, Zi Bofeng pondered for a moment, then casually picked up the brush beside him. With the brush hovering over the paper, he pressed down, and lines of vigorous, powerful calligraphy spread rapidly across the page.

If one spoke of that "former Zi Bofeng," he was truly a diligent young man. Not only had he read widely, but he had also dabbled in the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Although he only had a rough grasp of the zither and chess, his calligraphy and painting could be called a peerless duo. It was just that the Old Scholar's critique was, "His brushwork is skilled, but his intent is narrow." In short, it was another case of the "you are very good, but..." sentence structure.

As for this "current Zi Bofeng," although he was lazy by nature and loved to let his imagination run wild, he perfectly embodied the word "change." He changed three times a day and lacked any persistence.

That essay was like a waterfall hanging in reverse, completed in one breath; the flow of thought was so smooth that not a single character needed changing.

The worldview was upright, yet the concept was novel. Combining the spirit of contemporary legalism, it followed the parallel prose style of four-six rhythm.

It contained the severity of "If one intends to do good, the good is indeed good; if one intends to do evil, the evil is indeed evil," as well as the virtue of "If one intends to do good, though it is good, it shall not be rewarded; if one does evil unintentionally, though it is evil, it shall not be punished." The entire essay also echoed the theme of change.

In summary, to put it all together, he had written a sprawling eight hundred words that could be summarized in six: "It depends on the situation."

This kind of slick, fence-sitting fluff piece was something he was quite adept at. Extreme, black-and-white thinking was too outdated; one needed to have a dialectical spirit now.

After finishing, he reviewed it once more. Zi Bofeng nodded with satisfaction. This page full of empty words read with such gusto, making people feel as if they had gained something, yet they had gained nothing at all—this was nothing but chicken soup for the soul!

This clay pot of delicious chicken soup should be enough to make the examiner dizzy with delight and nodding his head in approval.

Zi Bofeng chuckled with satisfaction, itching to add a smiley face at the very end. He had to forcibly pin his own arm down to resist the urge.

Record of Raising Monsters