Volume One: The Overseer and the Candidate Chapter Thirty-Six: I Underestimated the Problem

October 14th, afternoon.

The Imperial Academy.

Unlike other government offices in the court, the rules here in the Imperial Academy were far more relaxed.

As literary officials of the purest stream, most of them had no substantial duties to attend to, and naturally did not need to remain here throughout the day. By the afternoon, more than half had already departed.

Even those who lingered in the office were mostly found drinking tea and playing chess, or gathered in small groups composing poems, matching verses, and critiquing paintings and essays.

Everyone enjoyed their own amusements, basking in leisure and contentment.

Yet such tranquility was shattered by an uncontrollable, low shout.

“What did you say? Tomorrow’s Imperial Lecture is to be held at the National Academy?”

Yang Shen’s face was filled with shock and disbelief, his gaze fixed upon Gu Dayong before him, his tone harsh and accusatory: “This is sheer nonsense, absurd!”

His outburst naturally drew the attention of those nearby; upon hearing the matter, some came over to listen, while others whispered quietly among themselves.

“This has never happened before, has it?”

“It shouldn’t have. Usually the Imperial Lectures are held in the Wen Yuan Pavilion; even when the venue changes, it’s always another palace chamber within the imperial grounds.”

Yang Shen was well aware of this, and so his expression darkened further as he added, “There has never been any precedent for such a thing; how can we alter it so arbitrarily!”

“Hanlin Yang, please mind your words,” Gu Dayong replied with a smile that never reached his eyes. “This is the Emperor’s own decision—are you saying His Majesty is being nonsensical and absurd?”

“You...” Yang Shen shot him a glance, but refrained from pointless argument, saying instead, “I believe it is you treacherous lackeys who have whispered slanders in His Majesty’s ear, clouding his judgment and prompting such a decision.”

Gu Dayong, knowing full well he was no match for Yang Shen in a war of words, made no response. Instead, he simply said in official tones, “I am here to deliver the imperial order, not to seek your opinion, Hanlin Yang.

“I have conveyed the message. You need only obey. Of course, if you refuse, I won’t force you; tomorrow’s Imperial Lecture will simply require another lecturer.”

With that, he turned slightly and glanced toward the outer room, sure enough, he saw quite a few Imperial Academy officials crowding in, their faces alight with interest.

The Hanlin post was not easy; though it was esteemed and pure, opportunities to stand out were few, the stipend was low, and there were no other sources of income.

So in their own eyes, though they were pure, the “esteemed” part was nonexistent.

Only those lucky enough to seize the chance to appear before the Emperor, or those like Yang Shen who had a father serving as Grand Secretary, could truly claim boundless prospects.

Now, it seemed, such an opportunity had arrived.

If one could replace Yang Shen as lecturer for this final Imperial Lecture of the year, His Majesty would surely take notice—perhaps it would mark the beginning of a meteoric rise.

Many entertained such thoughts; only a few, either close to Yang Shen or mature and steady by nature, stepped forward to advise, “Yang Shen, it’s only a change of venue; it’s not important. Don’t let minor matters jeopardize greater ones.”

Yang Shen quickly regained his composure, his expression returning to calm, even touched with a hint of a smile. “Since it is His Majesty’s will, as ministers, we must comply.”

Meanwhile, his mind raced, unraveling the true purpose behind it.

Clearly, this was a maneuver orchestrated by the eunuchs; the Emperor had indeed been misled by their persuasion.

They had waited until now to deliver the news, precisely to leave him no time to maneuver.

With his status, given more time, he could have approached his father and perhaps persuaded the Emperor to rescind the order.

But now, with the palace gates about to close and his father unable to see the Emperor, by tomorrow, all would be settled.

More importantly, there was a deeper intent behind the arrangement—why move the Imperial Lecture to the National Academy?

Soon, an answer emerged—because Huang Ming, son of Huang Jin, was at the National Academy.

At this thought, Yang Shen’s lips curled in a disdainful smile.

“If that’s really the case, then that boy is truly overestimating himself!”

It must be admitted: after certain events, Huang Ming did show some cleverness and wit.

But those were ultimately mere petty tricks, nothing worthy of the grand stage.

No matter how clever he was, he was only sixteen, rumored to have attended barely any elementary schooling, and had only recently spent a few days at the National Academy. What could he possibly have learned?

He dreams of contending with me at the Imperial Lecture?

He must be out of his mind!

Let alone whether he has the qualifications to speak—tomorrow, whatever I discuss before everyone, that ignorant boy probably won’t even understand.

How could he hope to challenge me, to contend with me?

With the truth suddenly clear before him, Yang Shen’s heart was at ease, and his attitude shifted immediately.

...

If Huang Ming could know Yang Shen’s thoughts at this moment, he would likely agree wholeheartedly.

Indeed, this was far more difficult than he had imagined.

If it were any other problem, he might have confidence in handling it, but when it came to such a grand cultural affair of the state, even as a transmigrator, he found himself at a loss.

He had thought, by gathering information in advance, he could learn what Yang Shen intended to lecture on, and though time was short, he could cram and prepare accordingly.

After all, he was not fighting alone—being a transmigrator, he stood on the shoulders of countless giants of the past.

Though he had never read the “Book of the Later Han,” thanks to the heroic histories that followed, he was somewhat familiar with the topic Yang Shen intended to cover, having watched and listened to many experts and amateur historians explain it.

He had thought that, with knowledge spanning centuries, he would be ready for battle, but when he opened up the “Book of the Later Han” and “Records of the Three Kingdoms” to truly understand his opponent, he was utterly bewildered.

This was the Ming Dynasty, and though book publishing and printing were highly advanced, with various novels and storybooks widely circulated among the people, certain key cultural features of later ages were still absent—such as punctuation marks, and comprehensive translations of ancient texts.

Staring at page after page of continuous, intricate calligraphy, Huang Ming felt his eyes blur.

What was this? What, what, was any of this?

He could recognize most of the characters, but connecting them, understanding their meaning, even knowing how to properly read them aloud, was beyond him.

Understanding the content was out of reach—merely reading through these chapters smoothly would be a challenge.

“I really underestimated the problem. With only a few days left, where can I find someone to help?”

In the end, Huang Ming could only turn over such a pitiful thought in his mind...