Liu Bian at the start, so you're called Dong Zhuo, right?

The next day at Chenshi (7-9 AM), outside the gate of the Imperial Academy.

The moment the new list was posted, the ink was still black, and the crowd paused for a moment, then exploded as if they had been set on fire.

"You really don't care about social status?!"

"The exam paper isn't signed, only has a number? And it has to be copied? Who are they trying to protect themselves from?"

"The Crown Prince summoned a tutor... How dare an eight-year-old prince do such a thing?"

Someone burst into laughter on the spot, the sound grating:

"It's fake! It's just a way to lure poor people into joining in the fun!"

Some people stared at the lines "Seal tightly" and "Do not open without permission," their eyes slowly brightening:

"This isn't a lie...it looks like they're really going to block the back door."

As soon as the argument started, the officials and soldiers at the gate of the Imperial Academy immediately rushed forward to maintain order, but the crowd grew larger and larger, even blocking the street corner.

"How could any powerful family possibly agree to this?" someone shouted, their face flushed. "Would the Yang and Yuan families allow you to choose people like this?"

"What do you know?" someone whispered back. "If they dare to post it, it must be more than just the Crown Prince who's resisting."

Some people were muttering to themselves in the crowd:

"What the teacher said was actually true..."

-

Similar notices were also posted in various wards and markets throughout Luoyang.

The ink lines on the sizing paper were extremely stable, and the characters printed by the woodblock were exactly the same. They were pasted on the doorposts of taverns, the entrances of bookstores, and even the walls of rice shops.

What first spread through the streets wasn't the title, but that phrase—

Regardless of social status or humble origins.

Some shook their heads, laughing flippantly: "The Crown Prince is just playing around."

But some people stood in front of the notice for a long time without moving.

Those people were dressed inconspicuously, even blending into the crowd like ordinary customers, but the light in their eyes was different from that of others—it was as if they had suddenly seen a crack through which a sliver of sky peeked out.

A lean, broad-shouldered young man stopped in front of the list. When he read the "Key Points of Laws and Regulations", he raised an eyebrow and then looked at the "Practical Documents".

He didn't say anything, turned around and left quickly, as if afraid the opportunity would slip away.

A man with a calm expression and calloused fingers paused and whispered to his companion:

"This isn't about writing poetry, it's about getting things done."

His companion asked, puzzled, "Are you going to practice writing too?"

The man said calmly, "I won't write it; I'll bring someone who can write it."

Among the crowd was a boy whose clothes were faded from washing, but he silently recited the notice from beginning to end. When he got to the part about "no name on the notice", his Adam's apple bobbed.

He looked up in the direction of the East Palace, his eyes bright.

opportunity.

-

Inside the palace, Zhao Zhong's anger was genuine.

Upon hearing the eunuch's report, his face turned ashen, and he shrieked:

"The Crown Prince's Palace posts a notice? And they dare say they don't care about social status? Isn't this just stirring up trouble?!"

"If those people at the Imperial Academy were to use this as an excuse to launch a public outcry—who would they target first? We would!"

He turned and headed towards Zhangde Hall, his steps hurried.

But before they could even enter the palace gate, they were stopped half a step by the eunuch guarding the entrance, who whispered a reminder:

"Lord Zhao... His Majesty has already heard about this matter."

Zhao Zhong was taken aback, then became even angrier: "What does Your Majesty say?"

The eunuch wore a slightly embarrassed smile:

"His Majesty said... the Crown Prince found it novel and interesting. He even asked, 'Is sizing paper easier to write on than regular paper?'"

Zhao Zhong felt a lump in his throat and almost choked on the spot.

He gritted his teeth, still unwilling to give up: "His Majesty isn't angry?"

"His Majesty chuckled," the eunuch lowered his voice, "and said, 'These are just children's antics; the excitement will only last a few days.'"

Zhao Zhong stood outside the hall, his expression shifting between anger and uncertainty.

He could tell that His Majesty considered this a "trinket".

But he could also tell that the Crown Prince regarded this as a "road".

Zhao Zhong clenched his fingers so tightly that his nails almost dug into his flesh.

"Wow...what a novelty."

He turned and left, his back view so gloomy it resembled a black shadow dragging across the palace road.

-

On the day of the examination, before dawn, the area outside the Eastern Palace was already crowded with people.

The people who came were not dignitaries, but commoners in blue robes, old shoes, and books—some carried a cold steamed bun, some held a tattered scripture, and some had their fingers frozen purple, yet they still clutched the "numbered tag" tightly.

Outside Chengde Hall, simple tents had already been set up, with three checkpoints: for identity verification, roll call, and ticket exchange.

The officials and soldiers were not allowed to make a sound, the clerks were not allowed to whisper, and even the sound of footsteps was kept very low.

Those who entered the shed had their personal paper scrolls taken away, leaving only their pen and ink; then the clerk would give them a "scroll cover" and a "sealing strip" in person. The scroll cover had only two lines: the scroll number and the title.

"Remember, only write the number, not the name. Writing the name will be considered a violation of the rules."

Some people nodded repeatedly, their lips pale; others looked ashen, as if their last shred of dignity had been ripped off in public.

But many others had hope in their eyes.

The third drumbeat signaled the start of the examination.

Rows of wooden desks were laid out, and officials in scarlet robes distributed the documents.

Upon first glance at the question, a nearly uncontrollable gasp arose in the room.

"This...this is considered scriptural interpretation?"

"Disaster relief... legislate first, then distribute grain? Is this testing sages or county officials?"

Some people stood frozen in place, as if they had been memorizing verses for ten years, only to have the pages suddenly turned to the other side—the words were still the same, but the path was completely different.

In the first volume of the commentary, there is a solitary introductory line, followed by a thought-provoking question:

—To explain this in terms of scriptural meaning: Why should disaster relief first "establish laws and regulations" and then "distribute food"?

Next, another question:

— Local powerful families are annexing properties, and the people are fleeing: Please write a public announcement using the terms "reputation, propriety, and benevolent governance," and propose two actionable measures.

Some people frowned deeply on the spot.

"An announcement? And more measures? This... isn't this just writing a manifesto?"

An old scholar beside him had sweaty palms and muttered, "The benevolent love others... the benevolent love others... how can one possibly write down two methods..."

The second volume of laws also sends a chill down one's spine.

The case is presented in the question: theft and sale of prohibited items, forgery of receipts, and abuse of power, all linked together.

What followed was not "quotation and analysis," but rather four cold lines:

Key points of the laws and regulations to be cited.

Case handling process: who to detain first, what to seal first, and how to keep records.

Risk points: chain of evidence, contradictory testimonies, interference from superiors.

What should be done if a document lacks a countersignature? How can one avoid both resisting the authorities and being charged with a crime?

The third volume of policy questions completely broke away from the old path of "eloquent and beautiful language" used in the Imperial Academy.

The question isn't a single sentence, but a series of scenarios, like a knife being handed to you, asking if you dare to cut it:

—Famine and Refugees: A certain prefecture suffers a poor harvest, resulting in insufficient granaries. Powerful families hoard grain, and a rebellion of refugees is imminent. Please devise three steps: What should be done on the seventh, thirtieth, and ninetieth days? Where will the funds and grain come from? How can corruption be prevented?

—Market and Currency: Counterfeit goods are rampant in the market, and chamber of commerce receipts are being smeared. How can we establish rules, stabilize prices, and suppress rumors?

—Personnel Selection: In a certain county, all the officials were relatives of local powerful families, and their policies were ineffective. How can a change in personnel be implemented without escalating conflict?

The last item, "Document Practices," felt like a blow to the head:

People gathered in front of the Imperial Academy, copies circulated in the streets, some mocked, some praised. One must neither boast nor retreat; one must both reassure the people and quell the rumors. (Limit 500 characters)

The room fell eerily quiet for a moment.

All that could be heard was the soft rustling of paper, the gentle grinding of ink, and the sound of someone's Adam's apple bobbing.

"This...this is asking us to become officials?" a young man asked, his voice trembling.

"No, it's about being capable," someone nearby whispered, a hint of excitement in their voice. "People who are capable are the ones who are valuable."

While the other candidates were dumbfounded, some were quick-witted and insightful.

The man did not rush to pick up his pen, but first divided the topic into three lines according to its "importance and urgency": famine, laws and regulations, and announcements.

After finishing the strokes, the pen tip touched the paper, and the first line was written very steadily:

"Laws are the ropes that govern the distribution of grain; if these ropes are not in place, grain will be stolen."

Upon seeing the notice "no countersignature on the document," someone's eyes lit up, and they immediately began to write.

He didn't write "resist" or "from," but only the first four characters: "check first, then act."

Beside him stood a poor scholar, his clothes worn and his fingers cracked from the cold, yet he gripped the pen as if it were his life.

Looking at the words "powerful magnates seize land, commoners flee," he didn't first extol benevolence and righteousness, but instead first wrote the title of the announcement in a proper and respectful manner:

—"A message to the elders of a certain county: Only when proper titles and rituals are not violated can people live in peace and prosperity."

He also wrote the last two measures concisely and clearly.

At this moment, a sound finally came from the room—not a discussion, but the rustling of pens on paper, a continuous sound like rain falling on roof tiles.

Liu Bian stood in the shadows inside the hall, looking at the crowd: some were still pondering the same question, while others had already written down their solutions.

The wind outside the hall grew colder, but the lights inside remained steady.