Everyone was both happy and excited, all looking at Fang Zichen with eager eyes, waiting for Academy Head Zhang to introduce them and confirm their thoughts. One student suddenly gasped heavily twice, then his eyes rolled back and he fell straight to the ground.
Fang Zichen: "..."
At this moment he was probably like a superstar. Ah, seeing one's idol, it was inevitable to be a little excited. Understandable.
In the literary world, he really was too popular. But it wasn't his fault—back then he was poor! The monthly stipend for first place was several taels, and he couldn't help being tempted. And if he placed first, he could also get several fragrant kisses from Zhao Ger. Of course he had to go all out.
Academy Head Zhang led Fang Zichen on a tour of the academy, then drank some tea and chatted with him for a shichen, and already wanted to see him off right away.
At this time classes were still in session at the academy. Fang Zichen looked at Academy Head Zhang and felt the man's psychological endurance was truly too weak. He had seen him for so long and was still excited, panting like an ox, his neck thickened, his face flushed red, as if he might faint at any moment.
Fang Zichen didn't dare stay with him any longer. He wanted to let him calm down. Besides, he hadn't come to chat with Academy Head Zhang. So he said, "At this time everyone should be in class, right? This official will go take a look and exchange some words with everyone."
Whether it was the imperial examinations or officialdom, he was undoubtedly an old hand. If he shared some experience and offered guidance, they would benefit greatly.
Academy Head Zhang, as if his backside were on fire, couldn't wait to take him there.
Class A was currently "self-studying." Actually, by this stage, what should be learned had already been learned, and what the teachers could teach had already been taught. What they were doing now was "settling"—that is, reviewing.
When they heard Fang Zichen was going to exchange with them, everyone was happy and began asking questions all at once. Some even brought books over.
"Lord Fang, this student has already read this through, but has never understood its meaning. Could Lord Fang resolve this student's doubts?"
The teachers instructing Class A were all jinshi graduates and certainly had their own mastery of literary talent. But these teachers had reached this stage yet had not entered court as officials—either their abilities were limited and they could go no higher, or they could not adapt to the deceit and scheming of officialdom.
This was class time. Fang Zichen wanted to promote sales and make money, but he also had a sense of propriety and would not delay people.
The question this student asked involved many things. He had originally asked the teacher, but the teacher had only explained one or two points and the answer was not complete. Now Fang Zichen glanced at it and casually offered some guidance.
That student and the others nearby listened with eyes shining.
Originally they felt the question was profoundly deep, but what Fang Zichen said was simple and easy to understand, penetrating to the core. In just a few sentences he gave people the feeling of sudden enlightenment, as if a heavy blockage had been cleared.
One after another they asked, and it seemed no question could stump Fang Zichen. Especially with math problems—he would scan them once and immediately answer.
In recent years Xia Jinghong had carried out reforms in the imperial examinations. Previously there had been only one arithmetic question at the end of the paper. By Fang Zichen's year it had risen directly to two. Now it was actually three. The provincial examination had three sessions, one question per session.
Probably official posts had reached a point of saturation, yet every year millions of scholars took the exams. If the questions were simple and there were no posts to give, the only option was to raise the threshold. Now numerous scholars not only had to learn to compose poetry, but also had to learn to solve problems—yet this was something most were not good at.
Fang Zichen was truly young. While everyone admired him, they also couldn't help faintly doubting him. At first everyone still asked tentatively, testing whether he was "the real thing." When asking about composition and phrasing, Fang Zichen would still think a little. When asking about arithmetic, it truly came out of his mouth instantly.
After several questions, everyone was thoroughly convinced and surrounded Fang Zichen. Afraid his son would be squeezed by the excited crowd of students, Fang Zichen simply had Guaizai cling to his neck like a little monkey and lie on his back.
If everyone had been a bit clearer-headed, they probably would have restrained themselves and had a book boy take Guaizai out first for some snacks and such. At the very least they should not have been so unceremonious. But right now everyone was excited and had forgotten propriety.
Fang Zichen's comprehension was first-rate. Every question became clear with just a hint.
Academy Head Zhang and two teachers watched from outside, truly marveling at how formidable this man was. He was full of learning, and his knowledge of arithmetic was broad—nothing seemed able to stump him. No wonder. Otherwise, with no real ability and only that mouth of his, he probably wouldn't have lasted long in officialdom.
"Academy Head, Lord Fang is truly formidable in literary talent." One teacher listened with shining eyes and sighed sincerely, "Truly, hearing his words is better than reading for ten years."
"Formidable indeed." Academy Head Zhang said, "But that mouth of his is even more formidable."
Earlier, when several teachers had accompanied them, they had also experienced Fang Zichen's "skills." That mouth really could make people furious.
This exchange went on until the afternoon. Fang Zichen said it was getting late and he had to go. But since he had come and everyone was so enthusiastic, he would write a few words as a gift for everyone.
The students were delighted when they heard this, their hearts pounding. They even wanted to offer their own brush and ink, but Guaizai moved faster. He directly put down his schoolbag and took out paper and brush from inside, handing them to Fang Zichen.
Fang Zichen began writing right on the desk in the lecture hall reserved for teachers to place their lesson plans.
Guaizai said with a wow: "Father, your handwriting is so pretty. How is it prettier than before?"
All the students: "..."
The two teachers instructing Class A were fairly tall, so when the carpenter first made the desk, it was naturally made taller too. Guaizai was not even as tall as the desktop. Looking over now, they could only see the little tuft on top of his head. So how did he know that his father's calligraphy had improved again?
Could it be that Young Master Guaizai's two eyes grew on his little tuft?
Fang Zichen's expression remained calm. "It's not that Father has made progress—it's that this paper is good."
"Huh? Is that so?" Guaizai ran over, put down his schoolbag, and pulled out a sheet of paper. He grabbed it by both edges, held it up in the air, and turned it around in every direction without missing an angle. Then he said, "Wow, Father, Father, what kind of paper is this? Why is it so white? Ah! It feels so nice too—so smooth. It's different from any paper Guaizai has ever used before."
"Of course it's different." Fang Zichen said, "This is xuan paper specially produced in our Hezhou. It absorbs ink well and is smooth and dense. It's tough yet moist, bright but not slick, white and thick, with pure grain. You can crumple and fold it without damage. When writing or painting with ink, the ink spreads very evenly. Its permeability and adsorption of ink are very strong. The shades of ink are distinct, the layers are clear, and it has a rich three-dimensional feel. Even after adding layer after layer of ink, the light and dark brush strokes don't bleed into each other. It has a moist, textured quality—depth within lightness, lightness within depth—bringing calligraphy and painting to an unexpectedly ideal state."
"Wow, that amazing?" Guaizai's eyebrows twitched, and he laughed. "Then from now on, when Guaizai uses paper, Guaizai will use our Hezhou paper and write really well, so Father and Daddy never have to worry about Guaizai's studies again." At this point, his two little eyebrows furrowed, as if troubled. "But if this paper is so good, won't it be very expensive?"
Fang Zichen's hands did not stop as he replied, "Not expensive. One dao is only a hundred and twenty copper coins."
[1 dao = 100 sheets]
Guaizai asked, "Ah! So cheap? That's great! Then where do we buy it?"
"Go to Xinyuan Road. You can buy it at the Good Fortune Inn." Fang Zichen said, "With our Hezhou specially made xuan paper, your writing will have both bone and spirit, and your paintings will be full of life. The choice of smart people—you deserve to have it."
Guaizai nodded his big little head. "Right, right."
The students: "......"
Academy Head Zhang: "......"
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