The tenth year of Jinghe, autumn in the seventh month.
Two years was neither a long time nor a short one.
Long enough for the Court's balance of power to be reshuffled, short enough to be no more than the distance between two Autumn Provincial Examinations.
The study hall at the Feng Residence.
The autumn tiger's lingering heat still held sway. The afternoon was sultry, the cicadas deafening.
Wei Nisheng sat at the desk, one hand propping his temple, the other holding a brush.
The policy essay Feng Yan had assigned lay spread before him. He had written half a page and crossed out another half.
A cup of cool tea sat on the desk, untouched for the past hour.
"Hard," Wei Nisheng muttered, setting down his brush and rubbing between his brows.
Expounding the classics relied on memory, poetry and rhapsodies on talent. Neither frightened him.
Only policy essays demanded that he discuss current affairs, address practical matters, offer substance, and tease apart every strand of his argument.
This was something no transmigrator could solve.
Mr. Ziren had said that truth was gained through practice.
Writing policy essays was this dynasty's version of gaining truth through practice.
Feng Yan had taught him for two years and said that his writing had "too much literary fire, ample backbone, but insufficient finesse."
Translated into plain language, it meant his writing looked fine but was too aggressive, liable to offend the examiners in the examination hall.
Yet the autumn examination was fast approaching, and policy essays ran through all three stages: the Provincial Examination, the higher Provincial Examination, and the Palace Examination.
Especially in the Palace Examination, where the emperor himself posed the questions, the quality of his essay would directly determine his ranking.
Thus Feng Yan was even more anxious