Chapter Five: The First Trial

The enchanting scenes upon the Long River also faded away after midnight. Li Fu and Yang Zixu, both slightly intoxicated, made their cautious way back to the bustling streets of Chang’an, taking care to avoid the patrolling city guards. Their intention was to climb over the wall of the inn and slip back inside unseen.

Li Fu went first, and as he landed, he suddenly noticed a pair of green eyes staring up at him. Only then did he realize that the inn kept a massive black dog, nearly as tall as a man.

The black dog’s gaze was fixed unwaveringly on Li Fu, its white fangs gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

“What are you standing there dawdling for? Planning to admire the moon?” Yang Zixu’s voice had barely faded when he dropped lightly down from the wall, not noticing the black dog at all. Unfortunately, his foot landed squarely on the dog’s tail.

With a tortured howl, the black dog lunged and sank its teeth hard into Yang Zixu’s backside, growling and whimpering all the while.

“Damn dog, let go! Let go, I said!” Yang Zixu’s face contorted in outrage and pain, but he gritted his teeth, determined not to make too much noise. If anyone saw him in this predicament, his reputation in the Eastern Capital would be ruined forever.

“Let go, you wretched beast! Let go, I said!” he hissed, barely holding back a louder cry. “Easy, easy—stop biting!”

Desperately, Yang Zixu pounded the dog’s head with his hands, but it only bit down harder, and now the pain was nearly unbearable.

“Aren’t you going to help?” he finally shouted, dignity lost to agony, calling out to Li Fu, who was doubled up with suppressed laughter.

“That’s what you get for not watching where you land… Ha!” Li Fu couldn’t hold back his laughter; the sight before him was simply too ridiculous.

“Enough jokes, get over here and help!” Yang Zixu pleaded anxiously, noticing lights beginning to flicker on inside the inn.

Li Fu sobered quickly—if they were discovered, it would be more than just Yang Zixu’s face on the line.

“Stupid dog, I’ll have you stewed one of these days—”

“Come on, let’s go before anyone comes to watch the spectacle—”

“Oh, my poor backside... Wait for me, will you?”

With much effort and no small amount of embarrassment, the two managed to pry open the dog’s jaws and hurriedly retreated indoors.

...

“Li Fu, are you ready yet? Hurry up—if we’re late, we’ll miss the carriage to the Court of Judicial Review!” Yang Zixu’s anxious voice came through the door as he pounded on the knocker.

“Hold on, I’m coming!” Li Fu replied.

Upstairs, Li Fu calmly changed into the scholar’s attire distributed the previous day by the Examination Academy.

“This robe looks so familiar,” Li Fu mused, glancing at the garments on the bed. He recalled the two robes his teacher had packed for him before he set out.

He wore a scholar’s robe of white with silver trim, paired with pale blue boots embroidered with clouds, and draped a finely crafted brocade cloak over his shoulders. His long hair hung loose, and his expression was relaxed and carefree as he stepped out from his room.

“Your scholar’s robe doesn’t look like this year’s issue. Isn’t the color a bit… subdued?” Yang Zixu observed, comparing Li Fu’s outfit to his own.

In the Tang Dynasty, extravagant fashion was the norm, and proper occasions required strict adherence to dress codes—formal, semi-formal, ceremonial, each with its distinctions. For the annual Lantern Festival examination, the scholars’ robes were always made from the newly offered southern silks, adorned with exquisite embroidery.

The attire was strictly controlled by the Examination Academy and only distributed to each candidate on the eve of the festival. The number of robes issued exactly matched the number of examinees—never one more, never one less.

“Let’s get in the carriage, it’s cold out here!” Yang Zixu urged.

A line of carriages stretched out before the inn. Lifting the soft curtain, Yang Zixu beckoned Li Fu to join him.

Soon after, the procession rolled out towards the Court of Judicial Review.

Chang’an’s streets teemed with traffic and laughter. From above, one could see carriage after carriage bearing the emblem of the Examination Academy, heading toward the court from inns and hostels across the Eastern Capital.

Beyond Chang’an Street, they passed through the Gate of Radiant Light. At the city’s southwest corner, the vermilion walls of the Judicial Review Court came into view.

This was the highest authority over all official laws in the Tang realm, responsible for handling accusations against generals, marquises, nobles, and officials alike. It was also the venue for the preliminary Lantern Festival examination each year.

Eight centuries earlier, Lord Wei had chosen this place as a warning to all scholars—that the path to government was fraught with boundaries that must not be crossed.

After passing through numerous checkpoints and having their credentials inspected several times, the carriages finally halted before the court.

“We’ve arrived at the Court of Judicial Review. All candidates, please disembark.”

In the vast square before the court, the Imperial Guards stood in formation, their vigilance unyielding. Ahead of them waited rows of stern-faced officials, hands tucked into their sleeves, silently awaiting the candidates.

“Scholars, please proceed in order to draw your numbers before the presiding examiner. Afterward, follow the court attendants to your assigned rooms. During the examination, no talking, no whispering, no cheating, and absolutely no leaving your seat without permission. Violators will be disqualified immediately.”

A scholar clad in white stood at the front, his cold gaze sweeping over the assembled examinees as he delivered these instructions.

...

“Whatever you do, don’t fail the preliminary round!” Yang Zixu whispered to Li Fu as they waited together. “My father says this year’s Lantern Festival exam is especially tough—the Grand Chancellor himself set the questions.”

Li Fu glanced at Yang Zixu, then couldn’t help letting his eyes drift to his friend’s backside, stifling his laughter.

Yang Zixu shot him a withering glare, utterly exasperated. “That damned black dog—I’ll make a stew out of it when we get back!”

...

Inside, the examination rooms were spacious—each with a single desk in the center and a small official’s chair in front. There was no crowding. At the entrance to each room stood an academy scholar holding a long stick of incense, with a tiny incense burner beside him. The incense marked the time; when it burned out, the exam ended.

“Fifteenth day of the first month, Year of Yi Hai, by imperial decree of His Majesty the Human Emperor of the Tang, the Lantern Festival Examination is hereby convened at the Court of Judicial Review. The exam shall commence at the third quarter of the morning.”

At the examiner’s command, academy scholars at each room’s entrance lit their incense and placed it in the burners. Then the court attendants distributed the exam papers.

Li Fu sat at his desk, closed his eyes to calm his mind for three breaths, then opened them and unfolded his test paper. He felt a surge of nerves—for the preliminary round was always the hardest, typically eliminating seventy percent of all candidates.

The scope was vast—Classics, Histories, Philosophies, Anthologies, nothing was omitted. Questions ranged from state policy to military strategy, even cultivation techniques.

And this time, the Grand Chancellor himself had written the exam; it was bound to be more difficult than ever.

Yet as Li Fu looked at the paper, he was stunned.

Could it be…?

For fifteen years in the Fragrant Rice Village, Li Fu’s teacher had tutored him from the age he could remember, guiding him through a collection of more than nine thousand ancient texts. No matter the season, rain or shine, his days were spent immersed in those tomes, memorizing their contents. By the age of nine, he had already devoted immense effort to committing them to memory, all while setting aside hours for cultivation under his teacher’s guidance.

Once, Li Fu had asked his teacher, “Why do we study?” The old man had replied simply, “Just remember what’s written in the books. In time, you’ll understand.”

As a child, Li Fu had not grasped the meaning. Even now, he could not fully comprehend his teacher’s words—until this moment.

Every question on the exam seemed familiar. The explanation from Chapter Eighteen of the “Embracing Simplicity”? He’d read it at the age of seven, and the memory was still vivid. The solution to Section Six, Chapter Three of the “Martial Canon”? He remembered struggling with it at five, and being punished with ten strokes when he failed. Every question appeared in some form in the ancient texts of the village.

Joy surged in his heart. Some questions were crystal clear, others hazy, but as he focused, the answers came into sharper relief. Picking up his brush, Li Fu began to write rapidly—

There are three thousand paths to the Way, but the books Li Fu had studied were far more than three thousand.