Chapter Thirty: First Encounter with Lu Bing

The primary purpose of Constable Lu’s arrival was to back his son, but upon hearing from Magistrate Jing that the boy who caused the trouble was his own son, his bluster immediately dissipated.

It was standard practice for Magistrate Jing Zhongkuan to fail in his attempt to visit Prince Xing; the Prince could certainly afford to be haughty toward a magistrate, but the minor officials of the Prince’s estate had no such standing. In order to live long-term in Anlu, one had to rely on the local officials. Once you step outside the Prince's political sphere, you, a mere subordinate, are confined to the insular world of the Prince's estate. If you offend the local magistrate, how are you supposed to get along in the future? What if the yamen runners showed up at your house to cause trouble every single day? Could you handle that? Rely on the Prince’s estate for protection? The Prince had no time for such trivial matters.

Zhang Zuo chatted amiably with Jing Zhongkuan, then expressed that the selection process was about to begin, subtly issuing an order to leave. Jing Zhongkuan, not a man lacking in social awareness, gave his son a firm look before departing for the east gate of the estate, accompanied by Constable Lu and the others.

The selection exam began when Zhang Zuo reappeared. By then, the estate guards had moved tables into the shade of a large elm tree. Each table was a small, long desk shared by two children; there were no chairs. With brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones laid out, the children were, given their height, forced to write while standing. For the young candidates, a written test was expected, yet many still appeared confused and at a loss.

Take the four-year-old child from the Lu family, for instance; his head barely cleared the top of the table. He held his brush high in the air, likely unable to see what he was writing. Fortunately, a guard standing nearby, feeling sympathetic, quickly found a rock for him to stand on.

Sharing a desk with Zhu Hao was the magistrate’s son. "Coming here to apply at such a tender age is simply overestimating oneself... It’s impressive enough if a tot this size knows a few characters, let alone writing them? Hmph!" Master Jing clearly looked down on the Lu boy. There was no helping it; he was, after all, the magistrate’s son. Only last night, his father had hosted a special banquet for several officials of the Prince’s estate, asking them to look after his boy.

Zhang Zuo walked under the great elm and smiled. "You have all come to apply as companions to the Prince. I assume you are fully prepared. Here is the topic... Listen carefully: transcribe the first ten lines of the *Analects of Confucius*. Your handwriting must be neat and without error."

Before Zhang Zuo even finished speaking, Master Jing had already begun. This was the strategy of striking first. Transcription was perhaps the least technical form of testing, relying entirely on one's depth of knowledge. The faster and neater one wrote without errors, the better. Once the topic was understood, there was no need to listen to any further chatter.

For the candidates present, the exam was not difficult, and one by one, they began to write. Zhu Hao belonged to the more relaxed sort, finding time to observe the state of his "fellow examinees" to gauge the situation. He was most concerned with the two who had connections—Master Jing and the little master from the Lu family.

The topic was severely "beyond the syllabus" for a four-year-old, yet the young Master Lu still picked up his brush to write on the paper. There was something strange here! Could someone have leaked the topic, allowing him to prepare in advance?

...

What constituted one of the "first ten lines" of the *Analects* was itself a question. In this era, there were no punctuation marks, and the words of the Sage could not be arbitrarily broken. Even in the imperial examinations, one could not simply pick a few characters; one had to extract complete phrases, which tested the examinee's reserve of knowledge. For Zhu Hao, this was not difficult, and he prepared to put brush to paper.

He needed to design his handwriting; it could not be too refined. After all, with his calligraphic foundations from his previous life and his diligent practice since transposing into this world, he could effortlessly handle seal script, clerical script, regular script, running script, or even cursive. But if he performed too brilliantly, it wouldn't look like a child's handwriting and would invite unnecessary trouble; if it were too sloppy, it would appear he lacked skill.

He had to strike a balance. Zhu Hao pondered for a moment and made up his mind: he would ensure his characters looked neat without displaying high calligraphic mastery. By making minor adjustments to the strokes and avoiding the expression of "brush intent," the characters would look pleasing but lack spirit, still appearing to be the work of a child.

Just as Zhu Hao wrote a few characters and felt quite satisfied with the "child-like script" he had created, his hand began to fly across the paper. Master Jing had been confident that no one would surpass him, but when he caught a glimpse of his desk-mate moving ahead of him at double the speed, he immediately became nervous and tried to write faster. For an ordinary child, even with good calligraphic skills, writing too quickly inevitably led to sloppy or distorted strokes.

"Slow down, no need to rush. I'll wait for you," Zhu Hao said with a smile, glancing at Master Jing after hearing his rapid breathing. Master Jing simply rolled his eyes and turned away to continue writing.

By now, Zhu Hao had nearly finished the first ten lines. He had intended to wait to avoid suspicion for writing too fast, but just then, the examiner, Zhang Zuo, walked over and stopped to observe. Seeing this, Zhu Hao saw no need to hide anything and simply finished the final line.

"Sir, I have finished," Zhu Hao said, putting down his brush.

Zhang Zuo’s gaze fell upon Zhu Hao's writing, and he nodded in approval. "Excellent. How old are you?"

"I am eight years old by nominal age," Zhu Hao replied naturally.

"To have such calligraphic foundations at eight, your future is limitless... Hmm, it has the style of the Liu school," Zhang Zuo nodded repeatedly.

The Prince’s subordinate, who had come to supervise the exam alongside Zhang Zuo, walked over and couldn't stop praising the work. "What fine writing! Even many adults might not be able to write like this, and at such a speed, too."

The exam was not strictly formal, and for the examiners to shower one candidate with such praise before the final review was highly unusual. Zhu Hao felt no joy, only concern; he hoped they weren't trying to "kill him with praise." Regarding his relationship with the estate, he only had secret dealings with Zhu San and Zhu Si, but since they were not involved in the invigilation, he was relying on his own merits. Yet, with so many candidates with connections present...

This exam was, after all, meant to select playmates for the young Prince. If people used their connections to select their own, it didn't seem like a breach of public duty for private gain.

...

The first exam concluded. Nearly half of the students had either failed to put brush to paper when Zhang Zuo called time, or had misspelled words, or produced work so poor it was beyond saving, placing them on the verge of elimination. Many with connections lacked the necessary knowledge, assuming that social ties alone would secure them a spot, unaware that the Prince's estate maintained strict standards. At the very least, the young Master Lu... despite his age, his writing was untamed and claw-like, yet he had managed to transcribe every single character. Regardless of his connections, that level of rigor was worthy of admiration.

A total of twenty-three candidates passed the first assessment. Overall, quite a few had cleared the hurdle; only about a third had been weeded out.

Master Jing was the second to hand in his paper. He had expected some praise, but seeing that Zhang Zuo and the others had no comments on his writing, he shifted his attention from the Lu boy to Zhu Hao.

"Those who did not finish, do not be disheartened. Follow the uncle beside you out of the estate. There is someone at the gate who will give you a small basket; you may open it once you get home." Zhang Zuo arranged for the guards to lead the eliminated candidates out. Clearly, Prince Xing did not intend to treat these children poorly; even if they failed, there was a "consolation prize." Only the failures knew what was in the baskets, and Zhu Hao had no desire to find out.

"The rest of you, wait here. Other teachers will come to examine you later!"

...

During the break, Zhang Zuo and his men departed, leaving a few guards from the Prince’s Ceremonial Guard to maintain order. Many of the children knew each other, and even for those who didn't, it only took a word or two to establish a rapport. Without the burden of ulterior motives or complex interests, they soon gathered in small groups to talk and play.

Master Jing stared intensely at Zhu Hao. "Who is your teacher? Why do you write so fast?"

Zhu Hao feigned a naive expression and smiled. "You write fast too. I just transcribe these sentences often, so perhaps I've just grown accustomed to it."

"Eh? Could it be that someone told you the topic in advance?" Master Jing’s eyes lit up, immediately finding an excuse for his own failure and casting Zhu Hao as someone with connections.

Zhu Hao thought about it; he was indeed someone with connections. Counting it up, he was the very initiator of this selection. But as for this kind of connection...

"Think what you like," Zhu Hao said, shaking his head without giving a direct answer.

Master Jing was left feeling quite annoyed. He glared at the four-year-old Master Lu, who was sitting alone, and snapped, "Hey, you crybaby brat! How can someone your age transcribe those sentences? Who taught you?" His tone was sharp and aggressive.

Master Lu’s face filled with fear again. He looked around, seemingly wanting to complain and find an adult to back him up. Zhu Hao intervened, "Since he dared to come for the exam, isn't being able to recite and transcribe the basic requirements? Why are you being so fierce?"

Master Lu had been terrified, his little eyes searching everywhere for Constable Lu, but upon hearing Zhu Hao’s words, he looked at him with touched, adoring eyes. He seemed to have identified Zhu Hao as his protector. Master Jing merely gave a cold snort and said nothing.

Zhu Hao looked at the young Master Lu and asked with a smile, "Is your surname Lu?"

"Yes." Master Lu nodded like a bobbing garlic bulb, treating Zhu Hao as a friend.

"What is your name?" Zhu Hao asked again.

Master Lu answered earnestly, "My name is Lu Bing. My father and mother both work in the Prince’s estate. I... I also want to enter the estate and be a book-page for the Heir Apparent..."