Chapter 100: The Insider

“Listening to all sides brings clarity; partial belief leads to blindness.” Zhao Ji pondered over the article submitted by Li Sanjian, murmuring, “I see, I see.”

Upon hearing that Li Sanjian had failed the imperial examination, Zhao Ji’s curiosity about the reasons behind his failure grew keenly. He promptly instructed the palace staff to locate Li Sanjian’s examination essay.

When the prince issues an order, the household servants execute it swiftly and efficiently. It wasn’t long before someone presented a carefully transcribed copy of Li Sanjian’s submission to Zhao Ji.

“The article is commendable, but alas,” Mi Fu commented after reviewing the essay alongside Zhao Ji. “Yet the calligraphy and composition... heh heh.”

Though Mi Fu expressed regret for Li Sanjian, his pride was unmistakable. Mi Fu excelled in both painting and calligraphy, matching Li Sanjian in painting skill but vastly surpassing him in calligraphy, a realm where Li Sanjian fell far short.

Li Sanjian himself was acutely aware of his limitations. Having studied under Su Shi for only a year before pursuing further education in Lingshan County—apprenticing under Huang Huan and others for less than two years—he had rushed into the court examination too soon.

The brief learning period inevitably capped his literary ability. Though the primary reason for his failure lay in the politically provocative content of his essay, his calligraphy and literary coherence were decidedly mediocre at best.

Even if his viewpoints barely passed muster, the flawed language and handwriting could easily be exploited to discredit him and justify his dismissal.

After his failure, Li Sanjian reflected deeply and recognized these shortcomings. Humbly, he addressed Zhao Ji and Mi Fu, “My talents are shallow; I humbly seek your guidance, Your Highness, Master.”

Zhao Ji glanced at him, then took up his brush and began revising the essay.

“Like this, the situation improves considerably,” Zhao Ji observed after making his amendments.

There are many ways to express an idea in an essay; word choice and phrasing can vary infinitely. By softening provocative terms like “party faction” and “persecution of dissent,” Zhao Ji’s changes gave the piece a finishing touch, making it less offensive and perhaps even acceptable to those in power.

Zhao Ji’s calligraphy was of exceptional skill—slender, upright, and crisp, with brush strokes as elegant as orchids and bamboo, sharp as iron and silver hooks, and imbued with a lively vigor.

Though Li Sanjian understood little about calligraphy, he found the script remarkably pleasing to the eye.

“Your Highness’s talent far surpasses mine,” Li Sanjian sighed, not out of flattery but genuine admiration, his interest in Zhao Ji growing.

To think a young prince, raised in luxury, could possess such literary and artistic mastery inspired deep respect in him.

“What are your plans, Li Hannen?” Zhao Ji casually inquired.

Li Sanjian looked up and replied offhandedly, “A humble man such as I can only plan to wander from place to place, seeking sustenance.”

“I see,” Zhao Ji nodded. “In that case, would you be willing to stay at my residence?”

With that, he exchanged a glance with the steward, Shang Hu, standing nearby.

Shang Hu caught the hint and said to Li Sanjian, “Young Master Li, have you not expressed your thanks?”

Li Sanjian wondered silently why he was being asked to stay. What role could he possibly have in the prince’s household? A servant? A painter? Whatever the role, it would mean servitude—and he was unwilling to accept that.

While shelter beneath a great tree may bring comfort, it also sacrifices freedom.

Sure enough, before Li Sanjian could respond, Shang Hu interrupted, “Young Master Li, please follow me.”

“For what purpose?” Li Sanjian asked, startled.

“To sign the documents,” Shang Hu answered.

Li Sanjian could not fathom why the prince favored him. Was it merely because he had the delicate features of a pretty boy and some painting skill? Was that enough to warrant bringing him into the household?

Could it be that one pretty boy pitied another? Shang Hu mused silently.

“What documents?” Li Sanjian pressed.

What documents? Shang Hu thought him foolish. The matter was clear—it was a contract of servitude.

In the Song dynasty, servants fell primarily into two categories: official slaves and those bound by employment contracts.

Official slaves were typically criminals or detainees, considered the lowest class of servants, completely at their masters’ mercy, subject to any punishment or command.

However, such official slaves had become rare by this time.

More common were servants bound by contracts specifying terms of service, after which their servitude could be terminated.

There were also hereditary servants and household-born servants.

“Thank you, sir, and Your Highness,” Li Sanjian said with a smile upon understanding Shang Hu’s implication. “Yet, though I come from humble origins, I cannot bring myself to commit such a dishonor upon my ancestors.”

Even under a contractual arrangement, Li Sanjian steadfastly refused.

A servant? He would starve before he became one, he thought. If his mother ever learned of it, she would surely beat him to death.

“Dishonoring your ancestors?” Shang Hu was incredulous, unable to contain his laughter and disbelief. To serve in the prince’s household was dishonor? Then what did that make them? He shook his head silently—so young and naive, speaking without restraint.

Such an opportunity was rare indeed. What was wrong with being a servant? It depended on the master. This was the household of the noble Prince of Song, after all.

As the saying went, even a seventh-rank official could serve in the prime minister’s household. Though the Prince of Song lacked the prime minister’s actual power, his prestige was unmatched. Moreover, those serving him enjoyed high status and generous remuneration, enough to support a family comfortably.

Should Prince Duan, Zhao Ji, advance further, his followers would rise in fortune and influence.

Yet this once-in-a-lifetime chance was being rejected outright—a failure to recognize privilege! Shang Hu despised the foolishness deeply.

“Why refuse?” Shang Hu demanded after a moment.

“No particular reason,” Li Sanjian calmly replied. “I intend to try the examination again next year. Serving in the household would preclude that possibility.”

No servant, regardless of rank, was eligible to participate in the imperial examination.

Thus, Li Sanjian used this as his excuse to decline servitude.

Though it grated on Shang Hu’s pride, Zhao Ji was unfazed; in fact, he admired Li Sanjian all the more. After a pause, he said, “Very well. Li Hannen, would you consider entering the household as a guest scholar?”

“Our collection of classical texts and books here is second only to the Imperial Academy,” Zhao Ji added. “You may study them at will.”

If Li Sanjian wished to sit the examination again, access to such resources was indispensable. Beyond his love for painting, Zhao Ji was an avid collector of books, amassing a library rivaling that of the Imperial Academy, overseen by the prime minister.

Such a rare opportunity was not offered lightly. Zhao Ji treasured these texts as precious jewels.

Li Sanjian did not yet grasp what being a “guest scholar” entailed. Nearby, Mi Fu clicked his tongue, “Your Highness, why honor this man so?”

Even Mi Fu was not permitted free access to the household library and envied the offer.

Shang Hu’s mouth went dry; he licked his cracked lips, wanting to speak but remaining silent.

Would Li Sanjian’s entry as guest scholar threaten his own position? Shang Hu wondered.

“Ha ha,” Zhao Ji laughed. “I love both talent and wealth. Li Hannen, what say you?”

What was a guest scholar? Was it servitude? Li Sanjian was uncertain.

But as long as it was not servitude, he was willing. There was no need to insist further. If any contract of servitude were required, he would flee immediately.

Just for the library filled with books, Li Sanjian was willing to accept the role of guest scholar.

Bowing respectfully, he said, “Many thanks, Your Highness. If you do not disdain my humble self, I would be honored to join your household.”

“Ha ha!” Zhao Ji laughed heartily. “That pleases me greatly. Steward Shang, prepare a banquet! Tonight, we shall welcome Li Hannen.”

“Li, I hear your poetry and prose are unmatched?” Zhao Ji winked at Li Sanjian with a smile.

How did he know Li Sanjian had once been the champion of the Lantern Festival? The question stunned Li Sanjian, who stared blankly.

“What? My poetry and prose are the best in the land?” Mi Fu exploded in mock anger, jealousy brimming as he scolded Li Sanjian, “You wet-behind-the-ears youth, what right have you to claim such a title?”

“Ah, Master, when did I ever claim that?” Li Sanjian responded, startled.

“The prince said it, so it’s as if you said it,” Mi Fu retorted.

“Good heavens, Master, he never said such a thing,” Li Sanjian protested.

“What does ‘unparalleled’ mean? Without precedent or equal, that is ‘unparalleled.’ If you do not understand that, how dare you claim to be the best?!” Mi Fu challenged.

“...”

“Hahaha!” Zhao Ji laughed heartily at their bickering, tears of amusement streaming from his eyes.

The beautiful maidservants nearby cast sympathetic glances toward Li Sanjian.

From this day forward, Li Sanjian became an “honored” guest scholar at the Prince of Song’s household.

A guest scholar is an advisor within the prince’s staff, a counselor in the inner chambers, not a servant by any measure.