klisemfg Chapter 629 Examination of Officials from Six Countries
Chapter 629 Examination of Officials from Six Countries
In early June, children in Xianyang began singing newly composed folk songs. The tunes were simple and catchy, and it was said that they originated from schools. They quickly spread like wildfire throughout the streets and alleys.
"The First Emperor unified the world, standardized the written language, and standardized the width of carts."
He abolished the feudal system, implemented the prefecture-county system, introduced the imperial examination system, and selected virtuous and capable individuals.
Reduce taxes, develop water conservancy, emphasize agriculture and sericulture, and ensure the well-being of the people.
"May the foundation for eternal peace be laid from this moment on, and may this era of tranquility last forever."
The old man selling candy would hum a tune while striking his gong, the waiter at the tavern would recite a few lines of rhyme while wiping the tables, and even the women in the innermost houses could sing a few lines and teach them to their children.
Ying Wuyou stood on the roof of the newspaper office, watching the people below queuing to buy newspapers. The line stretched from the government office gate all the way to the street corner, and among them were white-haired old men, women carrying baskets, scholars in blue robes, and craftsmen in short tunics. Everyone's eyes held a certain light—not fear, not numbness, but a fresh, eager anticipation.
Empress Lü quietly went upstairs and handed over a newly compiled report on public opinion from various regions: "Princess, the response from the various prefectures is better than expected. In particular, after the news of the 'Personal Plowing Ceremony' spread, farmers praised it one after another. In Sanchuan Prefecture, an old farmer burned incense and prayed to Heaven, saying, 'The Emperor values agriculture, and a bumper harvest is expected.'"
“It’s not just farmers.” Ying Wuyou unfolded the silk scroll, a smile playing on his lips. “Look, the craftsmen say, ‘If the emperor values agriculture, he will also value industry. New farm tools need to be made, and water conservancy projects need to be built. We’ll have more work to do.’ Merchants say, ‘When there is enough grain, goods will flow smoothly, and when roads are clear, commerce will prosper.’ Even Confucian scholars say, ‘The emperor’s personal plowing is in accordance with ancient rites and is the beginning of benevolent governance.’ A single ritual can affect the hearts of the people.”
Empress Lü Zhi exclaimed, “In the past, the common people feared officials, but now they dare to offer their opinions. In the past, the remnants of the six states harbored rebellious intentions, but now scholars from Chu are writing articles praising the prefecture-county system. This change has occurred in just one year.”
“Because it gave hope.” Ying Wuyou looked out the window. “People are not afraid of hardship, but of hardship without reward; they are not afraid of toil, but of toil without gain. The new policy gave those from poor families a path to officialdom, gave women the opportunity to study, and gave artisans the possibility of being ennobled—hope is the foundation for uniting people’s hearts.”
She gazed into the distance, the outline of Mount Li faintly visible in the twilight. That old farmer named Li San must have received the news by now, right? Perhaps at this moment, he's touching the wooden board with the suggestion written on it, his rough fingers tracing the charcoal marks, unable to believe his words could truly reach the Emperor's ears, and even more unable to believe that the Emperor had actually adopted them.
"System," she asked herself silently, "can these changes really last?"
[Retrieving historical comparison data... According to simulations, current policies can improve administrative efficiency by 25% and reduce public discontent by 40%.] The system's mechanical voice sounded. [However, the vitality of a system depends on its implementers. The flaw in the Qin system was not its structure, but its rigidity. If later emperors could adapt to the times and circumstances as the host has, the empire's lifespan could be extended by 150 to 200 years.]
A century? Ying Wuyou gazed towards the palace. Her father was there reviewing memorials. Could this man, who was about to become the First Emperor, truly understand the profound meaning behind her arrangements? He would be the founder, but where were the maintainers?
As night falls, the lights of thousands of homes in Xianyang gradually illuminate the city. This city, soon to become the capital of the empire, is quietly changing. Streets have been widened, canals have been repaired, the curfew has been extended, and even taverns open all night have appeared in the West Market. But it's not just the city's appearance that's changing; the hearts of the people living there are also being transformed.
The regulations and systems gradually took shape under the scribblings of the Ministry of Rites and Literature, the performance evaluation of officials proceeded systematically under the supervision of the Ministry of Personnel and Merit, and public opinion and sentiment quietly gathered between the lines of the newspapers. Everything was converging towards that day in September—when a new era would truly begin.
Ying Wuyou stepped down from the pavilion and said to the waiting crowd, "Rest early tonight. Tomorrow we will begin rehearsing the grand ceremony—we must ensure that this grand event is worthy of the imperial grandeur and can also meet the expectations of the people."
"Yes!" everyone responded in unison, their eyes shining.
It's mid-June in Xianyang.
The area of "Shangguanli," which was originally home to the princes and nobles of the six kingdoms, is now filled with former officials of the six kingdoms awaiting assessment.
These officials, who once governed their respective homelands, are now like shellfish swept ashore by the tide, scattered throughout the streets and alleys of Xianyang, awaiting an unknown selection.
Most of them wore faded or slightly stiffened old official robes—the deep purple of Zhao, the crimson of Chu, and the turquoise of Qi, all now faded under the Qin sun, becoming somewhat awkward symbols. They gathered in small groups, conversing in hushed tones, their accents varied: the Zhao accents were as resonant as striking stone, the Chu accents as gentle as flowing water, the Qi accents as crisp as wind rustling through bamboo groves, and the Yan accents as rustic as the low hum of an ocarina.
When eyes meet, there may be awkward avoidance, or resentful scrutiny, but more often there is a deep sense of bewilderment—the kind of bewilderment that comes from being uprooted and not knowing where to take root.
Under the old locust tree at the alley entrance, the shade was so dense it was impossible to break through. Several former officials of the Zhao state were gathered together. One of the middle-aged men looked around and lowered his voice, saying, "I've heard that Qin's laws are harsh. Those who fail the examinations are either dismissed or, in severe cases... exiled to the frontier. When I was in Handan, I heard people say that the Longxi region is a land of endless yellow sand, and going there is a nine-out-of-ten chance of death."
He paused, his voice lower, "I wonder if this assessment is intended to purge people? After all, in the eyes of the Qin people, we are ultimately 'outsiders'."
Beside him stood an old official from the Chu region, named Zhao Bo, who had once served as a county magistrate. He was stroking his white beard. He gazed at the majestic outline of the Zhangtai Palace in the distance—the building towered like a giant, casting long shadows in the afternoon sun that seemed to cover almost half of Xianyang City.
He said slowly, “It’s hard to say. But judging from what the Da Qin Xin Bao has said recently, the emperor seems to have new policies, and Princess Jiayang is also quite methodical in handling affairs. That proposal of ‘official schools’ might really be a glimmer of hope.” In his sleeve, he had carefully folded a newspaper. The words “Personal Plowing Ceremony” and “Fair Selection of Officials” on it had been repeatedly rubbed until they were somewhat blurred, the edges were frayed, and the ink had faded considerably.
Not far away, in another group of people, a lean former minor official from the State of Qi sneered: "A glimmer of hope? I'm afraid it's just a trap."
He looked around and, seeing that some people were drawn to his words, lowered his voice, but it was still loud enough for everyone around to hear: "I've heard that there are connections in Xianyang City, as long as..." He twirled his thumb and forefinger, making a gold and silver gesture, "that will guarantee success. Those without money or power are just going through the motions and will be purged sooner or later."
Upon hearing this, the expressions of the people around changed. One of them exclaimed indignantly, "If that's really the case, isn't this 'fair selection of officials' a joke?"
Some were dejected: "If I had known this would happen, why did I come to Xianyang to suffer humiliation? I should have just changed my name and gone into seclusion in the mountains." Others had shifty eyes, as if weighing their own resources and considering whether they should seek a way out—these people were mostly officials from the former states who were still relatively well-off and had some savings.
Zhao Bo heard a few words, but simply shook his head and pressed down the newspaper in his sleeve. Besides the "Personal Plowing Ceremony," it also contained the princess's remarks that "all officials in the world should be selected based on their talents, without regard to kinship or background."
He recalled how, before he left Chu, his wife packed his belongings with tears in her eyes, sewing the last piece of jade into his clothes: "Husband, if Xianyang doesn't accept you, sell it. At least you can return home." He didn't answer then, but just looked at the green mountains of Chu, thinking about his more than thirty years as an official, the cases he had reviewed that could be piled up higher than the eaves of a house, and the floods he had controlled that saved thousands of acres of fertile land from being submerged—were all these things worthless just because the world had changed?
He was willing to believe again—not in Qin, but in something different that was revealed between the lines of the newspaper, and also in his own experience and ability as an official for more than thirty years.
The assessment was held at the former Qin Imperial Examination Hall. This grand building, capable of accommodating thousands of people, was originally the site for Qin to select local officials, but now it was open to former officials from the six states for the first time.
At the beginning of the hour of Mao (5-7 AM), just as dawn was breaking and only a sliver of pale light appeared on the eastern horizon, a long queue had already formed outside the examination hall. The former officials, holding their identity credentials—the identification cards they received at the city gate when they entered Xianyang, bearing their names, places of origin, and former official positions written in Qin clerical script—were checked in turn before entering the hall.