In ancient China, success in the imperial examinations was often attributed to more than just hard work and intellect. Many believed that the gods themselves handpicked those destined for academic greatness. This belief stemmed from a complex tapestry of cultural traditions, where the supernatural and the scholarly often intertwined. Let’s dive into a couple of stories that’ll make you wonder if there’s more to success than just hitting the books.
When the universe conspires: The divinely ordained first place
Picture this: Zhou Litang, a scholar from Jiangxi, is taking the provincial exam during the Guimao year. The essay prompt? “Those who excel in study can become officials.” It’s a classic topic, challenging candidates to explore the relationship between education and governance. Zhou’s essay, however, is so mind-blowingly profound that the exam official, Zhang, can’t even wrap his head around it. So what does he do? He tosses it onto the reject pile. Classic, right?
But here’s where it gets strange. That night, Zhang starts spouting nonsense and slapping himself, saying: “You couldn’t understand such a brilliant piece, yet you have the audacity to be an exam official?” Talk about a plot twist! This bizarre behavior wasn’t just entertaining; it was seen as a sign of supernatural intervention, a common belief in traditional Chinese culture.
Zhang’s family thinks he’s gone mad and calls in the other examiners. They’re just as confused by Zhou’s essay, but decide to pass it up the chain anyway. This collaborative approach to evaluation was typical in the imperial examination system, ensuring that exceptional talents weren’t overlooked due to a single examiner’s limitations.
When the chief examiner, Ran Langzhi, lays eyes on it, he’s blown away. “This is pure genius,” he declares. “It’s in a league of its own — definitely first-place material.” Ran’s reaction highlights the value placed on innovative thinking and depth of knowledge in these exams.
Now, here’s where it gets even spookier. The deputy chief examiner, Duke De, had dozed off from all the essay reading. When Ran fills him in on Zhou’s essay, Duke De asks for the exam number. “Male, number three,” Ran replies. Duke De’s response? “No need to look. It’s definitely first place.”
It turns out that while napping, Duke De had a vision of a golden-armored god congratulating him, saying: “Your third son has clinched first place.” Coincidence? I think not. This dream sequence adds another layer to the belief in divine intervention, showcasing how even the unconscious mind was thought to receive heavenly messages.
When the results are announced, everyone’s buzzing about Zhang’s bizarre behavior. Even Zhang himself is baffled. But the consensus? Divine intervention, for sure. This collective interpretation reflects the strong belief in fate and supernatural forces that permeated ancient Chinese society.
Zhou Litang went on to become a high official, serving as the Governor of Fujian and Superintendent of the Southern Rivers. His successful career was seen as further proof of his predestined greatness, reinforcing the belief that true talent, divinely recognized, would inevitably rise to the top.
The elusive top scholar title
Fast forward to the Song Dynasty. There was a monk in Jinling (modern-day Nanjing) who was always hitting the bottle and acting a bit… off. People called him the “Crazy Monk.” But here’s the kicker — his predictions about people’s fortunes were spot-on. Naturally, he became the go-to person for fortune-telling, a common practice in ancient China, where divination was deeply respected.
Enter Chen Yingzhong, a super dedicated student. A year before his big exam, he bumped into the Crazy Monk and asked: “Will I ever become the top scholar?” The monk’s cryptic reply? “No time to get it.” This ambiguous response is typical of oracles throughout history, leaving room for interpretation and maintaining an air of mystery.
Chen was a bit deflated, but pressed on: “So I’ll never make it?” The monk shakes his head and repeats: “No… time… to get it,” with a strange pause in the middle. Chen was left scratching his head, but decided to keep grinding away. His persistence demonstrated the intense dedication of scholars preparing for these life-changing exams.
Fast forward to the imperial exam. A man named Shi Yan snagged the top spot, with Chen coming in second. Suddenly, the monk’s words clicked. “No Shi to get it” — without someone named Shi ahead of you, you could’ve been number one. Mind. Blown. This wordplay reveals the clever and often poetic nature of prophecies in Chinese culture.
Here’s the thing about these ancient fortune-tellers:
- They had principles. Spilling the cosmic tea was a big no-no — it could lead to divine punishment. So they kept things vague. This belief in the sacredness of heavenly secrets was a cornerstone of many divinatory practices.
- They were incredibly clever. Their predictions were like puzzles, wrapped in riddles, inside enigmas. This approach not only protected them from accusations of being wrong, but also added an element of intellectual challenge to the prophecy.
So next time you’re stressing about your future, remember — sometimes, the universe works in mysterious ways. A little hard work never hurt anyone, right? While rooted in ancient beliefs, these stories remind us that success often comes from a combination of dedication, talent, and perhaps a touch of destiny.
Ultimately, whether you believe in fate or not, these tales offer a glimpse into a world where the line between the mystical and the mundane was beautifully blurred, adding a touch of magic to the pursuit of knowledge and success.
Translated by Joseph Wu
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