Chapter 135: Unexpected Turn (Part One)

“Han Ren, as you journey to the capital, I have only two pieces of advice for you,” Huang Huan said to Li Sanjian at the city gate of Guizhou.

“Please, Professor Huang, do speak. I am all ears,” Li Sanjian replied respectfully, bowing with hands clasped.

After four days of competition and nearly a month of anxious waiting, Li Sanjian had successfully passed the Guizhou provincial examination with essays such as “On the Business Opportunities in Lingnan.” He earned unanimous praise from the examiners and once again secured the top rank, the juren, in this round of the Guizhou provincial exams. Huang Huan was deeply gratified, while Zeng Gongming was full of admiration, bowing in reverence.

Securing the top rank twice in a row was rare in the Song dynasty’s imperial examinations, though not unheard of.

No one knew whether Li Sanjian would fail again or continue his streak of success. Consecutive failures were common, as ordinary as breathing, while successive triumphs were exceedingly rare—but not impossible. Take for example the prime minister Zhang Dun, who initially failed to surpass his nephew in the exams, felt ashamed and resigned his title in frustration, only to retake the exam the following year and pass once more, becoming a celebrated story.

Whether Li Sanjian would falter or prevail remained uncertain.

“First, you must not reveal your sharpness too openly. A tree that stands out in the forest is sure to be struck by the wind. I urge you to wield your blade with restraint, to conceal its edge and hide its brilliance,” Huang Huan stroked his beard thoughtfully and said.

At this time, Li Sanjian’s essay “On the Business Opportunities in Lingnan” had already spread throughout Guizhou and was widely circulated among the scholars of the region, receiving universal acclaim. Huang Huan estimated it would soon be known throughout the whole country.

“Governance begins with the control of miasma; only when that is accomplished can one establish a foothold...” Huang Huan still remembered this line vividly and could recite the essay by heart. He had even transcribed a copy to keep at home for daily reading.

The Lingnan region was notorious for its pervasive miasma and rampant epidemics. Most people regarded Lingnan as a wasteland, a place of death to be avoided at all costs. Yet Li Sanjian boldly put forth his unique insights in his essay: governing Lingnan, transforming it into a grain and commercial hub, rivaling the north, and many other novel, practical proposals. These ideas astonished Huang Huan and others deeply.

Huang Huan was extremely pleased with Li Sanjian but worried that his brilliance might provoke envy and hatred, which would be counterproductive.

“Second... well...” Huang Huan hesitated before continuing, “Kaifeng Prefecture is like a great vat of dye, deep and treacherous. I hope you can emerge from the mire untainted.”

“A vat of dye? Dye what?” Li Sanjian was puzzled by Huang Huan’s second admonition but was moved by the professor’s evident concern and care. He respectfully replied, “Your teachings are engraved in my heart, professor, and I shall never forget them. Before we part, I have something to say to you, though I am unsure if I should.”

“Speak freely,” Huang Huan nodded.

Li Sanjian hesitated before saying, “Professor, pure water holds no fish; excessive rigidity breaks easily...”

He left the rest unsaid. Both men understood the meaning. Li Sanjian was returning the concern, a subtle caution.

Huang Huan was known for his upright character and unyielding integrity in office—so much so that he was likened to a clear spring. Yet this very uprightness made him enemies among colleagues and superiors alike. Even after more than ten years since passing the imperial exams, Huang Huan had only risen from county magistrate to deputy military governor of Guizhou, a remote post in Lingnan. He was even outranked by officials without scholarly degrees. The root cause was his inflexible integrity, which the corrupt officialdom could not tolerate.

The Song bureaucracy was steeped in luxury and competition, even among emperors. How could a man like Huang Huan find a place there?

Li Sanjian did not oppose or disdain integrity; rather, he admired it. But he believed moderation was essential; no one should be so rigid as to reject the slightest flaw. For example, when Zeng Gongming offered a gift to Huang Huan out of gratitude, Huang Huan had harshly rebuffed him. Was that not a bit excessive? Li Sanjian pondered.

Yet he also realized that beyond gratitude, Zeng Gongming likely sought Huang Huan’s patronage.

It was easier said than done, Li Sanjian mused.

“That’s nonsense!” Huang Huan snapped angrily at Li Sanjian. “You should mind your own affairs first.”

With that, he swept his sleeves and strode away.

Huang Huan well knew that his own career stagnation was due to his nature. What good was knowing this if he could not change it? Advising Li Sanjian to avoid contamination while urging himself to compromise was absurd, Huang Huan fumed.

“Professor Huang...” Li Sanjian stood dumbfounded, watching the professor’s retreating figure awkwardly.

“Ha ha, brother,” Zeng Gongming laughed heartily, patting Li Sanjian on the shoulder. “Professor Huang’s temperament is unchangeable by anyone.”

“Enough about the professor,” Zeng Gongming said, turning to Li Sanjian. “Brother, must you leave Guizhou so soon? Stay a few more days and let me play host.”

After Li Sanjian earned his juren degree, he was eager to return to Kaifeng without delay, rushing as if pursued by fire and water, much to Zeng Gongming’s incomprehension.

The last time Li Sanjian passed the exam, he first returned home before heading to Kaifeng. During that time, he had also taken a concubine.

“Thank you, dear brother,” Li Sanjian said. “We have a long road ahead as brothers. It matters not this moment. My mother remains in Kaifeng, and I cannot bear to rest easy. That is why my heart is set on returning.”

His words were truthful—Fu Erniang was still a hostage at the Duke’s residence. How could Li Sanjian rest? How could he abandon her? His heart yearned to return.

Moreover, his previous examination failure was partly due to delays on the road. When he reached Kaifeng, the provincial exam was imminent, forcing a hasty approach.

His lack of understanding of the political situation was the main cause of his previous failure.

“Then I wish you swift success, brother. I shall await your good news here in Lingnan,” Zeng Gongming said, knowing Li Sanjian’s filial devotion well and ceasing his persuasion.

“A thousand miles may still end in parting! Take care, brother,” Li Sanjian said, adjusting his gear, mounting his horse, and bidding farewell with a bow.

“Take care, brother!” Zeng Gongming returned the bow deeply.

Li Sanjian nodded, cracked his whip, and spurred his horse onward toward the distant horizon.

Before returning to Kaifeng, Li Sanjian had one more duty: to fulfill his promise. He had vowed to visit the grave of Cai Rongxue’s mother, and he intended to honor that vow.

“Giddy-up! Giddy-up! Giddy-up!” Li Sanjian urged his horse toward the grave.

The steed galloped like lightning, trees, flowers, rocks rushing backward as the wind howled, whipping Li Sanjian’s cloak almost flat against his body.

Though the grave lay only fifty miles from Guizhou city, the rugged roads of Lingnan took a full day and night to traverse.

The grave was nestled in the mountains. As dawn broke, pale light spilled across the vast sea of clouds, painted with the hues of early morning. Distant peaks appeared and vanished in the mist like islands in an ocean. Yet Li Sanjian had no time to admire the scenery; he pressed on, startling birds and animals into flight with their calls.

There—was that her? Near the grave, Li Sanjian saw the solitary figure of a woman kneeling before the tomb. He was puzzled.

He had been in Guizhou for over a month since the exam and assumed Cai Rongxue had already completed her visit and returned to Kaifeng. Yet here she was.

What a dutiful child, Li Sanjian thought, his admiration deepening.

Cai Rongxue had traveled thousands of miles to pay respects to her mother, which further increased Li Sanjian’s esteem for her.

“Giddy-up! Giddy-up!” Li Sanjian cracked his whip twice and charged toward her. Cai Rongxue, startled awake, stared in surprise at the approaching horse and rider.

Focused on each other, neither noticed a white-robed figure suddenly appear atop a distant tree.

“Whoosh...” As the horse neared, Li Sanjian hastily pulled the reins, but lacking skill, the horse came to a sudden stop, raising a cloud of dust that settled over Cai Rongxue, frightening her so that she fell to the ground coughing violently.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Li Sanjian dismounted awkwardly, tied the horse to a tree, and bowed deeply. “Forgive my rudeness, miss.”

“What are you doing? Can’t you ride properly?” Cai Rongxue was speechless. She was truly glad Li Sanjian had come to fulfill his promise, but was this grand entrance necessary? She found it amusing.

Li Sanjian nearly tumbled as he dismounted.

“Ha ha,” he laughed with her. “I was pressed for time and accidentally startled you.”

“How did your exam go? What were the results?” Cai Rongxue asked softly.

“Exam? Well... no need to mention...” Li Sanjian was about to boast when suddenly the sharp clash of weapons echoed from afar.

“Master, trouble! Bandits are coming! We must flee, quickly!” A bloodied attendant of Cai Rongxue, clutching a waist knife, ran breathlessly toward them, shouting urgently.