Chapter 103: Counterproductive Results

“When did your family first enter the court? Why do you seem so unfamiliar to me?” Emperor Gaozong stared blankly at Luo Binwang for quite a while, unable to recall who this censor before him was. Curiosity stirred within him, yet he refrained from immediately questioning Luo’s memorial. Instead, he first inquired about Luo Binwang’s background.

“Your Majesty, I, humble servant Luo Binwang, was born in the second year of the Wude era, registered in Wuzhou. From the twentieth to the twenty-third year of the Zhenguan reign, I served as secretary and military assistant at the Prince Dao’s mansion—a subordinate position of the sixth rank. Afterwards, I returned home to farm. In the second year of Linde, I ranked seventh in the imperial examination for the Jinshi degree, passed the Ministry of Personnel’s test, and was appointed Lang of the Court Rituals. In July, I was promoted to Senior Corrector of the Eastern Terrace. Just yesterday, I was transferred to the role of Censor.” Facing Gaozong’s doubt, Luo Binwang did not falter; bowing slightly, he reported his résumé calmly.

“Oh? I see. A minister who passed the Jinshi examination must be a man of great talent. Present your memorial; I am listening.” Although a censor was merely an eighth-rank official, Luo’s career made his appointment plausible. Yet Gaozong did not view Luo’s promotion to censor as a natural progression. Though the rank of censor equaled that of Senior Corrector, the former was a court official while the latter was a common low-ranking officer—far from comparable. Gaozong suspected that this move was likely influenced behind the scenes by Li Xian or Li Xian’s brother. Nevertheless, as it served the purpose of balance and restraint within the court, he chose not to pry into its subtleties, merely nodding with a gentle smile.

“Your Majesty, the sages say: Education without discrimination. Therefore, those who succeed in learning need not be judged by their birth; those who possess virtue and talent are truly worthy. Moreover, to harbor loyalty to the state and seek to serve the country but find no opportunity—is this not sorrowful? Moved by this, I composed a poem:

‘At thirty-two, resigned, the temples bear the grace of Pan An.
At forty-nine, still entering service, age unlike Zhu Maichen.
Wandering, troubled by Yue’s woes; weary, I roam Qin’s lands.
Released from the cage, my fragile wings flutter; abandoned, like dried scales on a pathless road.
Mastered the classics to no avail, who will heed my unsheathed sword?
The Son of Heaven has yet to summon me; years slip by in decay.
Once glimpsing the borderlands, how bitter the thousand-mile hardship.
The sword sheath reflects barbarian frost; the bow is drawn beneath Han’s moon.
Golden blades stir autumn hues; iron steeds imagine dusty winds.
With steadfast sincerity for the nation, I would sacrifice rank and wealth.
Carving merits to rival Xian, my strategy outwits Chen.
If not to brave frost and snow, I’d waste spring in the jade capital.’”

Luo Binwang’s poetry was exquisite, expressing the profound sorrow of a scholar unused by the emperor, the pain of unrecognized talent permeating every line. His deeply resonant tone moved Emperor Gaozong’s eyes to redden slightly. Although many officials opposed reforming the imperial examinations, they too were stirred by the poem. The atmosphere in the great hall suddenly grew heavy and oppressive.

“Father, how sorrowful is the poem of Censor Luo! ‘The Son of Heaven has yet to summon me; years slip by in decay.’ Such is the greatest pain of life. When I think of it, I cannot help but weep. Our Tang Dynasty has always been enlightened, and Father, you are a wise ruler. How can you sit idly by? I earnestly implore you to make a just decree!” Before the ministers could recover, Prince Lu Li Xian strode to the center of the hall, speaking passionately.

“Father, Sixth Brother’s words are true. The grief of a virtuous man is none greater than unrecognized talent. Reforming the imperial examinations is a measure that follows Heaven’s will and the people’s needs. It must be enacted swiftly. I believe Sixth Brother is best suited to lead this effort. I beseech your wise judgment!” No sooner had Li Xian spoken than Li Xian’s younger brother immediately chimed in in support.

“Well, well...” Emperor Gaozong was utterly unprepared for this matter. Though he found the Li brothers’ proposal reasonable and wished to grant them some recompense, the far-reaching complexities of examination reform weighed heavily on his mind. Facing the brothers’ fervent gazes, he found himself at a loss for words.

“Two virtuous brothers, even if the imperial examinations must be reformed, there must be proper regulations. This matter is weighty and cannot be taken lightly. Perhaps it is best to discuss it later,” Gaozong stammered, unable to form a concrete answer. Observing from the sidelines with a cold eye, Prince Li Hong could no longer bear the silence. Rising from his seat, he solemnly interjected.

“Hey, youngster, you’ve enjoyed all the benefits and now you’re causing trouble? Good for you!” Li Xian thought with a smirk when he saw Li Hong rise, though his face remained calm as he bowed slightly and said, “Crown Prince brother’s admonition is correct. This matter is grave and must have clear regulations. I, your humble servant, have some initial ideas which might be feasible.” Having said this, he paid no heed to Li Hong’s displeased expression, turning once more to bow before Emperor Gaozong. “Your Majesty, my memorial is not yet complete. I humbly ask permission to continue.”

“Hmm, Xian’er, speak freely. I’m listening,” Gaozong replied. He was genuinely curious about Li Xian’s plans for examination reform but also mindful of the need for balance, so he did not oppose the request.

“Thank you, Father, for your great favor,” Li Xian replied with solemn gratitude. Holding his memorial, he spoke aloud, “I believe the words of the sages embody the great way of governing a peaceful era. The court’s selection of talents should be based on virtue and literary accomplishment to ensure everyone is put to proper use, thereby showcasing the enlightenment of our Tang. The current examination system is fraught with flaws and must be thoroughly overhauled. After careful thought, I propose the following: The sages said that a gentleman masters the six arts—ritual, music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy, and arithmetic. Selection should be based on virtue, with the six arts as guidance. The subjects shall be the Five Classics—the Book of Songs, Book of Documents, Book of Rites, Book of Changes, and Spring and Autumn Annals—and the Four Books—the Analects, Mencius, Great Learning, and Doctrine of the Mean—collectively known as the Four Books and Five Classics. Counties shall have schools selecting the middling students as Xiucai; prefectures shall have schools selecting the middling students as Juren. Only Juren shall be eligible for the grand imperial examinations held every three years, which will consist of three sessions: current affairs, principles of changes, and poetry. Final ranking shall be based on poetry and prose, abolishing the Mingjing exams and elevating the Jinshi degree alone to demonstrate fairness in talent selection. If this is done, no gem will be lost among the people, and no talent lacking at court. What joy could there be not to pursue this? I humbly beseech Your Majesty’s wise consideration!”

“Your Majesty, I find Prince Zhou’s proposal most commendable. It should be implemented promptly!”

“Your Majesty, I concur!”

“Your Majesty, I also concur!”

...

After Li Xian finished speaking, Lin Qi and other officials aligned with Prince Lu also rose to voice their support. Though only about twenty in number, their combined strength was considerable.

Seeing the two princes join forces again, Li Hong felt increasingly deceived and became both angry and anxious. Yet, having been firmly rebuffed by Li Xian before, he dared not rashly interrupt again without full confidence, fearing a public defeat. Still unwilling to let the Li brothers succeed, he reluctantly cast a pleading glance toward Yan Liben and other trusted ministers.

“Your Majesty, I must respectfully disagree with Prince Zhou. Our court’s senior ministers of the Mingjing tradition are many; countless are virtuous and capable. They are not as unworthy as Prince Zhou alleges. Moreover, Mingjing scholars are guaranteed by high-ranking court officials, ensuring their virtue and conduct. Claims of opportunism are unfounded. I beg pardon for my frankness,” Yan Liben said, though unfamiliar with the examination affairs and initially reluctant to challenge Li Xian, the prince’s beseeching glances left him no choice but to speak.

“Your Majesty, Minister Yan speaks well. The imperial examinations are the foundation for selecting talents. They must not be altered lightly; caution is imperative.”

“Your Majesty, I hold that the Mingjing path is the correct way to select talent.”

“Your Majesty, we believe Minister Yan’s words reflect mature governance. We hope Your Majesty will judge wisely.”

...

As Yan Liben was the leader of the Crown Prince’s faction, his stance brought forth the support of ministers close to the Crown Prince. Even many seasoned officials who usually avoided princely disputes now voiced their agreement. The Crown Prince’s faction’s momentum grew overwhelmingly strong.

“Ha! So they all show themselves at last. Good, I feared none would. Now that it’s stirred up like this, the matter is settled!” The ministers clamored loudly, almost unanimously opposing the reform of the imperial examinations. Yet Li Xian was utterly unconcerned, even secretly delighted. He kept silent, ignoring the vehement opposition, for this scene had long been anticipated.

The Crown Prince’s power was already great, and he had incurred the emperor’s unease. Otherwise, Gaozong would not have casually allowed the Li brothers into court affairs. The Crown Prince’s recent acquisition of the Ministry of Works further expanded his influence. Though Gaozong wished to support the Crown Prince, he harbored reservations. Now, the uproar only intensified those doubts. Those doubtful of reform seized the moment to suppress the Crown Prince’s ambition. In other words, the more vehement the opposition from the Crown Prince’s faction, the more Gaozong would be inclined to curb it. At this crucial juncture, silence was Li Xian’s best strategy. He had said all he needed; the emperor would make his own judgment.

Just as Li Xian expected, the louder the ministers clamored, the darker Gaozong’s expression became. By the end, his face was so sullen it seemed to drip gloom. Though he did not truly erupt, his grim countenance silenced the once vociferous officials. The great hall fell into a stifling, oppressive silence.

“Why do you all bustle so, ministers? Is it truly to ease my burdens, or are you thinking only of your unappointed sons at home? Hm? You pride yourselves on great talent, yet who among you can compose verses like Minister Luo? Mingjing, humph! Can Mingjing select true talent? I doubt it. I find Xian’s proposal commendable and have decided: Let him lead, with Xian assisting. Together with the Ministries of Personnel and Rites, draft a complete set of regulations. I await the outcome!” Gaozong glared at the ministers with a harsh reprimand, then, without regard for their reactions, issued the decree and withdrew to the rear hall.

With the emperor’s departure, the court session naturally could not continue. The ministers dispersed reluctantly, and the intense debate ended before it fully began...