Chapter Ninety-Five: The Profoundness of the Northerners

When Xu Jing boldly posed that question, both Fan Jin and Wei Haogu were momentarily stunned, and even Lü Xingchuan felt a jolt in his heart.

Among the seven present, Xu Jing was a successful candidate in the provincial examination, naturally distinguished. Wu Wending, Gu Dingchen, Fan Jin, and Wei Haogu were all scholars who had passed the initial imperial exams. Lü Xingchuan, though still a child student, was well-read, yet due to unfortunate timing or lack of proper method, had not yet succeeded in passing the initial exams. In terms of talent and learning, however, he was by no means inferior to anyone present. After all, he had been studying since childhood and was now forty years old; one could only imagine how many books he had read.

Only Zhou Zhi was an outsider, having not yet completed the Four Books and Five Classics. Of course, Xu Jing was unaware of this fact. But anyone could tell by Zhou’s simple attire and the absence of the scholar’s square scarf that marked a successful candidate; he was plainly an outsider.

Furthermore, Zhou Zhi was the youngest among them. How much could he have possibly studied? When Xu Jing immediately declared that Zhou was quick-witted and well-read, what was his true intention? What hidden agenda lurked behind his words?

Could it be that Xu Jing, still nursing resentment over the earlier statement—“The South excels in poetry, the North in depth”—was seizing this chance to boast of his southern heritage and simultaneously belittle or even humiliate the northerners?

But no matter whether South or North, it was all part of the great Ming Empire’s territory. Was it necessary to pit scholars from the two regions against each other so sharply?

If Xu Jing truly harbored such petty grudges, it would seem rather vindictive and narrow-minded.

Perhaps Xu Jing’s remark was merely inadvertent, a genuine desire to explore the Eight-Legged Essay style together.

The three men exchanged uneasy glances, all silently concerned for Zhou Zhi.

After all, Zhou was the savior of Lü Xingchuan’s father and held a close bond with Fan Jin.

As for Wei Haogu, though he had not interacted much with Zhou, he had long heard from Fan Jin that despite Zhou’s humble origins, he remained steadfast in his scholarly pursuits, earning Wei’s admiration. Having just met Xu Jing and the others, Wei naturally inclined to favor Zhou.

Earlier, as everyone chatted and Xu Jing debated with Fan Jin, Zhou and Gu Dingchen sat quietly at the lowest seat, neither speaking. When Xu Jing proposed a joint discussion on the Eight-Legged Essay, Zhou was genuinely pleased.

Zhou had nearly completed his study of the Four Books and Five Classics, with only the Book of Rites left to master; the rest he had read thoroughly and could recite fluently. After all, coming from a future era, he had a broader foundation and greater insight than most Ming scholars, enabling him to read at an extraordinary pace.

Although he was close to finishing the Four Books and Five Classics, the imperial examination required mastery of the Eight-Legged Essay—a discipline Zhou was utterly unfamiliar with, having never studied it in his own time.

Today, however, the Eight-Legged Essay must be incorporated into the learning agenda. All those present had experienced the imperial exams and would surely possess many insights and tricks. Zhou was eager to listen and learn.

Yet when Xu Jing suddenly shifted his tone and asked about him directly, Zhou’s heart stirred. He thought to himself: though Xu Jing was exceptionally talented, having passed the provincial exam at twenty-three, there was an unmistakable arrogance beneath his exterior.

Zhou, along with Fan Jin and the others, wondered if Xu Jing’s question was meant to prove that southern poetry was superior to northern talent.

In truth, Zhou fully understood that the saying “The South excels in poetry, the North in depth” was undeniably accurate in this Ming era. Fan Jin’s stubbornness to compete with Xu Jing was hardly wise.

At this time, northern Ming was remote and desolate, vast but sparsely populated, with poor transportation and impoverished people—how could it compare with the wealth of the South? Without economic and transport foundations, northern scholars naturally had fewer opportunities to study, and their talents could not match those of the South. This was an undeniable fact.

It was precisely for this reason that the Ming divided its scholar recruitment between North and South.

Zhou smiled faintly and resolved to carefully navigate whatever Xu Jing’s true motives might be.

“If the North is known for depth, then I, Zhou Zhi, shall show him just how profound it can be.”

With this thought, Zhou respectfully cupped his fists and said, “Brother Zhifu, you may not know, but I have actually not read many books. It was only three months ago that I began studying. I do not possess any great talent. I have come today to listen to you and the other brothers discuss scholarship, to receive your teachings and benefit from them.”

At this moment, honesty was paramount; no falsehoods could be allowed. This was the true way of northern depth.

One must know that a single lie requires a thousand others to cover it up.

Xu Jing had no idea Zhou had only been studying for three months, essentially just beginning his education.

Why would Lü Xingchuan invite such a novice to sit here among esteemed guests?

In truth, Xu Jing had already observed that Fan Jin and Wei Haogu were scholars, and he had seen Lü Xingchuan’s talents firsthand. Only Zhou was youngest and plainly dressed, yet clearly gifted in some way. But no matter how talented Zhou was, even if he had been reading since birth, compared to Xu Jing’s knowledge as a provincial graduate, Xu Jing still believed himself far superior.

Xu Jing came from a wealthy and scholarly family; his grandfather, Xu Yi, and father, Xu Yuanxian, were famous men of their time. Their home held a vast library of ancient texts, and Xu Jing had read widely.

Though Xu Jing was displeased by his earlier debate with Fan Jin and harbored a desire to showcase his own talent, Zhou’s candid words left him awkward, revealing Xu Jing’s small-minded intentions. Xu Jing’s fair cheeks flushed faintly as he averted his gaze and slowly sipped his tea.

Fan Jin was somewhat displeased that Zhou was so forthright. He thought Zhou should have at least exaggerated a bit. Among these men were scholars and graduates; though Zhou was an outsider, he ought to maintain some pride.

Alas, Zhou was still inexperienced.

Xu Jing’s arrogance needed to be checked. The northern scholars were not only profound—they would prove their talents were no less than those of the South.

With this in mind, Fan Jin glanced at Xu Jing and smiled, “Brother Zhifu, you may not know, but though Brother Zhou has only studied for three months, he is widely read, possesses a strong memory, and learns swiftly. His three months of study are equivalent to others’ three years!”

Hearing this, Zhou inwardly groaned. Fan Jin was speaking wildly—when had he ever claimed to have a photographic memory? The last time he borrowed books from Brother Xingchuan’s home, he only said he needed to accelerate his studies to prepare for the upcoming minor exam. Yet before Fan Jin’s mouth, this became an eidetic memory. Fan Jin, dear brother, you have truly put me in a bind.

As expected, Xu Jing narrowed his eyes and looked toward Zhou. “I thought so. Brother Zhou must have some ability—an eidetic memory, you say? I have only heard of such a thing but never witnessed it. Brother Zhou, why not demonstrate this talent for us today?”

Not only Xu Jing, but Wu Wending and Gu Dingchen also showed looks of surprise, then keen anticipation.

Fan Jin, seeing that Xu Jing truly wished to witness Zhou’s supposed eidetic memory, was dumbfounded. His earlier praise had been mere exaggeration to bolster Zhou’s reputation and, by extension, northern scholarship’s honor. He did not expect Xu Jing to seize on it so relentlessly.