Chapter Thirty-Five: Entering the Imperial Academy

The Imperial Academy near the Confucian Temple southeast of Anding Gate had languished in neglect for nearly two centuries. Since the restoration of the imperial examinations at the dawn of the dynasty, the court had ceased to favor the Academy in the selection and employment of officials.

Though the Imperial Academy stood as the empire’s highest seat of learning and reached a zenith of nine thousand students during the reign of Yongnian, becoming the brightest cultural center of the realm, its present condition was far from glorious. Lax administration and slack teaching had reduced its former splendor to mere memory. Now, one needed only to pay a hundred bushels of grain to gain the title of a student and exemption from labor levies; some with connections might find a faint chance of entering officialdom through this, but most simply wasted their days here.

For Zhu Cilang, however, even a skinny camel is still larger than a horse. His hopes of turning his fate lay right here.

If one asks where the empire’s young scholars are most numerous, it must be the Imperial Academy. If one asks where the disappointed literati of Ming are most concentrated, again, it is here. If Zhu Cilang seeks a group of young men whose minds are filled only with lofty classics and principles, the Academy is the place. For those with any wit had long since left—wherever there was work in the capital, there you would find them. Only the Imperial Academy offered no future for such clever minds.

When Luo Daren, the Academy’s provost, received a letter from Fu Shuxun and, with a complex gaze, ordered Gao Han, the chief registrar, to assemble the students, he could not have imagined that this act would profoundly shape the political landscape of the empire.

At that moment, the three hundred remaining students were gathered outside the Yilun Hall on the terrace. Upon a platform half a man’s height, a young man stood with hands behind his back—handsome and heroic, a faint smile on his lips, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd below.

Likewise, the three hundred students watched Zhu Cilang standing on the Yilun Hall terrace, whispering among themselves, wondering why Luo Daren had summoned them. Seeing Zhu Cilang dressed as a scholar, they guessed privately that perhaps someone had come to give a lecture. Yet Zhu Cilang was barely twenty—so young that it was hard to imagine what credentials he had to lecture at the Academy. Moreover, if it were a lecture, should it not have called the successful candidates still in the capital, or the degree-holders from the surrounding districts? Why summon the students?

Beside him, Gao Han, the chief registrar, accompanied by the instructors, loudly tried to maintain order. But with the Academy’s loose management and so many gathered, Gao Han, sweating profusely, felt the situation slipping out of control. Just as the commotion grew louder and order threatened to collapse—

A clear, forceful voice rang out from Zhu Cilang.

"Ming has stood for over two hundred years, yet now, beset by internal and external troubles, it is like an old man at dusk—staggering, wounded by foes within and without, bleeding without relief, death near at hand. You, who eat the emperor’s bread and enjoy the nation’s honors, whose ancestors have benefited from the empire for two centuries—do you not mourn?"

As his words fell, the whole crowd was stunned, all eyes fixed on Zhu Cilang. To declare the nation’s impending demise with such shocking force left every listener wide-eyed; silence descended, as if a flock of birds had vanished.

Gao Han, the diligent chief registrar, was so startled he leapt up, about to drag Zhu Cilang, this audacious rebel, off the platform. But at that moment, Luo Daren arrived unexpectedly, halting Gao Han’s move and instructing the bewildered instructors to guard all exits—no one was to leave or enter.

With his bold speech delivered, all eyes remained on Zhu Cilang as he continued, "I have not come to frighten you with dire words. Rather, Ming has reached a point where without rescue, death is certain! The crisis is so grave that our ancestors’ legacy may be severed at any moment!"

"You are students of the Imperial Academy, the empire’s highest institution. You are the youngest and finest among scholars, the true essence of Ming’s youth. The future of Ming depends on the young; whether the dynasty survives rests on what we, the youth, choose to do. In these troubled times, shall we merely cling to life, or strive with all our might to save the realm? The choice is yours. Thus, I, Qinxia, have come to ask: Will you linger in despair, or join hands to save the nation?"

After his long speech, Zhu Cilang paused for breath. Seizing the moment, an older student, evidently with some standing in the Academy, stood up.

Many students here were older men who had failed the examinations repeatedly, or aged scholars awaiting postings that never came. This middle-aged student, appearing in his forties, was clearly one of them.

He retorted with disdain, "I know nothing of Ming’s future. I entered the Academy twenty years ago, and the ‘finest essence’ you speak of has spent twenty years wasting away here. Essence? If you can’t pass the exams or compose the required essays, what essence is there? Young man, are you here to mock us?"

Another, his face weathered, rose and squinted at Zhu Cilang, mockery plain in his expression. "Your words sound fine, young man. But in the Academy, when will the stipends and meals be fully provided, then we can discuss such lofty ideals?"

With these openings, others followed, voicing their dissatisfaction. "We wish to serve the country, but the nation offers us no opportunity! Young man, you seem quite capable—can you tell us when we will be allowed to serve, when we will be evaluated, when we will be appointed as officials?"

When the Academy was thriving, graduates could go to various departments for practical experience, then be evaluated and the top performers assigned posts, just like those who entered through the imperial examinations. But as the quality of students declined, the departments refused to accept them, and the growing dominance of the exams left their prospects bleak. By the reign of Chongzhen, even policies encouraged donations for student titles, so many simply paid for their status and never attended classes. With such new recruits, the Academy’s standards had fallen considerably.

Now, those who remained were either too young to understand, or too old and clinging to the paltry stipend and meals—altogether a motley crowd, ignored by the scholarly world.

The voices of complaint grew louder, but Zhu Cilang just smiled at those demanding experience and evaluation.

"You complain that you cannot gain experience, cannot be evaluated, cannot show your abilities, and cannot be appointed to posts?"

"Very well. I give you that opportunity!" Zhu Cilang slapped his palm and declared, "I am from the Ministry of Revenue. Today, I have come to the Academy—to recruit!"