Chapter Forty-Four: Ever-Changing

“Do you think it’s easy for me?”
“Do you know how hard it was for me to put together this outfit?”
“You shouldn’t hit someone in the face or expose their shortcomings when you scold them...”
“Heavens above, oh woe is me...”
“I’ve really had it this time...”

With every mouthful of rice, the wanderer from Hejian grumbled, and with each grumble, he took another bite, alternating between eating and complaining, even lapsing into his local dialect.

Hejian Wanderer hailed from the Sichuan region.

Li Sanjian watched him with a smile, noting how his face was swollen like a pig’s head. Of the three long wisps of beard he once had, only one remained, his Taoist robe was torn into strips and covered in dust—there was no trace left of his former ethereal grace.

Li Sanjian had seen through the wanderer’s illusion, and then the mountain spirit had given him a brutal beating, leaving him battered and utterly disheveled.

His true form exposed, the wanderer from Hejian sat on the ground, weeping and wailing, demanding compensation for his ruined clothes and insisting Li Sanjian host a feast to comfort his wounded heart.

Li Sanjian, caught between laughter and exasperation, had no choice but to bring him into the city, leading him to an inn and laying out a meal so he could eat his fill.

“Young master Taoist, may I ask your name? Slow down, there’s no one fighting you for the food,” Li Sanjian asked with a grin.

The Taoist, his real face now revealed, was surprisingly young, no more than fifteen or sixteen. It was a wonder why he’d chosen to disguise himself as someone older.

“My surname is... why should I tell you?” the Taoist retorted, still nursing his grievances.

At this, Li Sanjian pushed a plate farther from the Taoist and looked at him expectantly.

“My surname is Zhang…” the Taoist finally conceded, clearly reluctant.

Li Sanjian nodded and continued, “Looking at you, you don’t seem Han. Why do you speak with such a strong Sichuan accent?”

Now that his real face was visible, Li Sanjian noticed his hair was slightly curly, his nose prominent, and his eyes deep-set, prompting the question.

“I was sold to Chengdu by traffickers when I was little and grew up there,” Zhang the Taoist replied.

Another unfortunate soul, Li Sanjian thought to himself with a sigh. Yet those who are pitiful often have their own faults. He must have suffered much in childhood, and now, to make a living, resorts to trickery wherever he goes.

“Though your background is pitiable, that’s no excuse for deceiving others,” Li Sanjian admonished.

“I’m well-versed in astronomy above, geography below, the ways of man in between; I understand yin and yang, the eight trigrams, and the secrets of the hidden arts…” Zhang protested angrily.

Li Sanjian rapped the table and interrupted, “Enough, enough, let’s not take it too far, shall we?”

Perhaps such miraculous abilities truly existed in this world, but certainly not in this man, Li Sanjian thought privately.

Zhang glanced at Li Sanjian, then, crestfallen, asked, “How did you see through me?”

Li Sanjian smiled and produced a book from his robe, laying it flat on the table. “This is an ancient text. All your tricks are recorded here, plain as day.”

Zhang curiously leafed through the ancient book Chen Yide had given to Li Sanjian. After a few pages, his eyes grew glued to the text, mouth agape, speechless for a long time.

“This… this…” Zhang stammered at last.

“What is it?” Li Sanjian fought a smile. “Were you about to say that this book will greatly aid your swindling ways?”

“Not so!” Zhang retorted, indignant. “This is a heavenly tome! To speak of it as a manual for trickery is an insult to the sacred text.”

Li Sanjian was not offended, but nodded. “Since you recognize it as a heavenly book, you do have some discernment. In that case, shall I give it to you?”

Li Sanjian truly had no interest in the arts within, nor the time to study them, so his offer to give the book to Zhang was sincere.

For this ancient treatise on illusions to return to someone who understood its worth seemed fitting.

Zhang was stunned, scarcely able to believe his ears. He stammered, “Are you serious? You’re not making fun of me?”

To them, this was indeed a sacred tome, filled with mysteries beyond common understanding—a treasure beyond price.

“I mean it,” Li Sanjian affirmed. “Why would I play tricks on you?”

Zhang, overjoyed, stood up and bowed deeply in the Taoist manner. “In that case, my deepest thanks…”

Li Sanjian waved him off, interrupting, “Hold your thanks for now. There’s one more thing I wish to tell you.”

“Your guidance, please,” Zhang said respectfully.

“There is a right way to follow,” Li Sanjian said. “The Tao can be used to deceive and harm, but it can also be used to help and save. To save and help is the righteous path; to deceive and harm is the crooked way. I hope you’ll choose wisely in the future.”

The Tao can save and help, and thus is the righteous path; to deceive and harm is the crooked way. Zhang fell silent at these words, pondering them deeply.

“My gratitude, sir. I will remember your words always,” Zhang said at last.

“I hope you do.” Li Sanjian smiled. “It gladdens me to make a new friend today. Shall we drink to our hearts’ content?”

Zhang and Zeng Gongming cheered at this, and Zeng called for two more jars of wine from the innkeeper.

“Master Zhang,” after several rounds, Zeng Gongming, still uneasy, asked, “What of the calamity you foresaw for me?”

Li Sanjian shook his head. Zhang glanced at him, then replied awkwardly, “Your brow is broad, your forehead high, your ears full and thick—such are the signs of great fortune. Where is this so-called calamity?”

“Haha, thank you, Master Zhang.” At last, Zeng Gongming was reassured and urged both Li Sanjian and Zhang to drink more.

“Master Zhang, regarding the imperial examination… could you offer some advice?” For Zeng, two matters were paramount: his own safety and success in the civil service exams. With his safety now assured, his thoughts turned to the latter.

“Well…” Zhang hesitated, then said, “I observed the heavens last night—both of you are destined for success in this examination.”

Li Sanjian could have slapped him. A leopard cannot change its spots—still spouting prophecies and divinations!

But then again, habits developed over years are hard to break. He chose to take it as a well-meant blessing.

“Haha!” Zeng Gongming beamed, almost dancing with delight. Should he pass the local exam, it would indeed bring honor to his ancestors.

To be a licentiate or an advanced scholar was no easy feat for those from Guangnan West Circuit.

Even if one was sent to the capital for the provincial exam but failed there, it was no disgrace. Even if, after repeated attempts, one died without success, the tombstone would still bear the title of licentiate.

“Ah, Donglin, I advise you to study hard and think about what questions the examiners might set. That is what matters most,” Li Sanjian advised.

“Hanren, as if I don’t know that,” Zeng Gongming sighed. “But…”

“What?” Zeng pondered Li Sanjian’s words. “Do you have a special strategy?”

“How could I possibly?” Li Sanjian replied quickly. He had indeed spent days contemplating the examiners’ possible questions—especially their likely focus—and had some inklings. But these were mere guesses, not something he could state as fact.

“Oh… no, that can’t be,” Zeng Gongming persisted. “You’ve only attended county school for a year, yet you consistently score among the top in every exam. You must have a way to predict the questions for this examination.”

Li Sanjian was caught between laughter and exasperation. If he were truly so gifted, why would he need to study so hard? If he could predict the questions, he’d just hire someone to write the answers for him!

“Donglin, I’m no sage. What special powers do I have?” Li Sanjian shook his head repeatedly.

“Hanren, we’ve only known each other a year, but I truly consider you a brother. Aren’t you being a bit unkind, keeping this to yourself?” Zeng Gongming knew his friend’s temperament well—unless Li Sanjian was certain, he would never speak rashly.

“You… I…” After a moment’s hesitation, Li Sanjian said, “These are only wild guesses of mine. Don’t take them too seriously.”

If he guessed wrong, he might mislead Zeng Gongming, he thought to himself.

“Speak freely, Hanren. Even if you’re mistaken, I would never hold it against you,” Zeng replied happily.

Li Sanjian shot him a look, then said slowly, “I suspect the policy questions for this examination will concern matters related to Guangnan West Circuit.”

Before the reforms of the Xining era, the Song dynasty’s local and provincial exams each had three sessions, one per day. The first covered poetry, prose, and essays; the second, Confucian Analects, and interpretations of the Spring and Autumn Annals or the Book of Rites; the third, policy essays.

Those who failed early sessions could not proceed. Only those who passed all three could compete at the provincial or palace level.

In addition to the regular jinshi (advanced scholar) exam, there were other subjects such as the Nine Classics, Five Classics, the Kaiyuan Rituals, the Three Histories, Three Rites, and Three Commentaries, as well as special exams.

After the Xining reforms, the local and provincial exams expanded to four sessions: first, the main classics; second, supplementary classics and major topics; third, a single essay; fourth, three policy questions.

During the Yuanyou reforms, the system returned to poetry and prose as the first test; later, during the Shaosheng era, poetry and prose were abolished, and only classical interpretation remained.

Thus, at this time, the examination method followed the Xining reforms: selection based on classical interpretation, abolishing the other subjects, and retaining only the jinshi exam.

With so many changes, students everywhere were left bewildered.

Of the four sessions, the third (the essay) and especially the fourth (the policy questions) were the most crucial, often deciding the outcome of the entire examination.

The reason was that the first two sessions required only a grasp of the general principles and main ideas, not a slavish memorization of commentaries—rote learning would suffice.

Therefore, Li Sanjian focused his attention on the policy questions.