30 Exam Success Secrets (New Year's Eve is here; wishing you and your family a joyous reunion, happiness, and good health.)

"This gathering is actually being hosted by Zeng Yuanshu. A distant relative of his has returned to pay respects to their ancestors. He is from Chengtian, Huguang, and just passed the Xiucai exam this year. His name is Zeng Shengwu. He is around our age—maybe two years older, still under twenty—so he can be considered a bit of a talent."

Wu Dong began to explain. In truth, this gathering served two purposes: on one hand, the Zeng family wanted to introduce their younger generation to other scholars, and on the other, it was a chance to show off. Even though none of the younger Zeng generation had yet achieved the Xiucai degree, they could at least boast of a talented relative.

Passing the Xiucai exam before the age of twenty is quite an accomplishment in ancient times. With a bit of luck, moving on to pass the Juren and Jinshi examinations in the coming years is a realistic prospect.

During the Ming and Qing dynasties, the imperial examination system reached its maturity. From the initial county-level tests to the final palace examination, it was actually quite rare for anyone under twenty to become a Jinshi.

They existed, but they were very few.

Most Jinshi candidates were in their thirties or forties when they made the list; at twenty, many were still rolling up their sleeves just to pass the Xiucai exam.

"By the way, cousin, do you have any model essays from top candidates in recent years?"

Wei Guangde knew very well that the primary mission for his parents and eldest brother on this trip was to finalize his marriage arrangements. As for himself, his goal was naturally to find as many excellent "baguwen" (eight-legged essays) as possible.

Although he had only been writing these essays for two months, Wei Guangde realized that reading, memorizing, and writing frequently were truly essential.

His current strategy was to study the superior works of others, commit their arguments and phrasing to memory, and then incorporate those techniques into his own writing.

The eight-legged essay sounded difficult, but in reality, it wasn't.

For someone with an exceptional memory, once you see the prompt provided by the examiner and understand its meaning and source, the rest becomes manageable. You follow the established structure of the eight-legged essay, apply a tried-and-tested opening, and simply fill in your own perspective on the topic.

The reason Wei Guangde insisted on writing so much was his extreme discomfort with the culture of this era. Although he had merged with the soul of the original young Wei Guangde, the Wei Guangde from the modern era remained the dominant consciousness. In his previous life, his school essays were all written in vernacular Chinese; no one was writing in such flowery, archaic language.

Since he couldn't write it naturally, he had to write more to enrich his mental vocabulary and build a form of muscle memory.

In truth, most eight-legged essays were filled with empty, grandiose jargon. Since everyone held similar views, the only difference lay in word choice and how one could make the writing feel fresh.

Ming dynasty examiners generally claimed to value substance and orthodoxy. They required candidates to write in a steady, mature, and rigid style, strictly forbidding flowery, poetic language and the citation of any books outside the established classics.

The latter part was true; Wei Guangde had read many such essays and rarely saw references to external texts. Of course, this might be because most of what he had seen were county or prefectural level papers, which naturally had lower standards.

However, concerning "flowery language," Master Sun had told him that it depended entirely on the examiner's personal taste; not every essay needed to be as stagnant as a dead pool. If an examiner favored a poetic style, then one had to use ornate vocabulary. Master Sun’s teachings were primarily focused on the "exam-prep" style—doing whatever it took to pass.

Wei Guangde didn't object to these opportunistic tactics.

In short, Wei Guangde needed to find more top-tier essays to memorize. He needed to understand how to tackle most prompts, how to structure his arguments, and how to grasp the viewpoints of the scholars of this era. After all, the current Wei Guangde’s way of thinking was fundamentally at odds with the people of this time. He didn't want to stand out, so he chose to blend in with the crowd.

His solution was to copy—to borrow others' perspectives, rephrase them, and present them in a way that didn't feel abrupt. His priority was simply to earn his degree first.

At this moment, Wei Guangde cared only about fame and fortune. Since he had arrived in ancient times, he wanted the beautiful wives, the concubines, and the luxurious, decadent life that came with success. However, his family background was modest, so if he wanted those things, he had to fight for them himself.

In his previous life, one had to struggle from elementary school all the way through high school just to get into a good university and enjoy a few decades of comfort. Now that he was in the Ming dynasty, Wei Guangde was prepared to work hard for twelve years to secure his degree.

His minimum goal was to become a Xiucai; that way, he could stay in Madang and live comfortably for the rest of his life. His second goal was, naturally, to become a Juren. His ultimate goal, of course, was to pass the metropolitan examination and the palace examination to become a Jinshi and enter officialdom.

If he only achieved the Juren degree, he didn't plan on becoming an official—the positions were too insignificant. Two months ago, he had remembered a famous figure from the Ming dynasty named Hai Rui, but the life led by Master Hai was certainly not the one he wanted.

Wei Guangde remembered that Hai Rui had not been a Jinshi; he had served as an official as a Juren. Being an official as a Juren came with significant obstacles. Fortunately, Master Hai held firm to his principles, rising from a minor, insignificant official to a third-rank official in his later years, though his career path was never smooth.

Wei Guangde wanted to be neither a corrupt official nor an overly austere one; staying in his hometown was the best option. If he could achieve the Juren degree during these twelve years of struggle, he would try his luck at the metropolitan examination.

Of course, these thoughts were still quite distant for the current Wei Guangde, but he had to prepare. The first step was to collect excellent essays and memorize them by heart. Whether or not these essays lacked "soul" or "depth" didn't matter to him; he wasn't dreaming of sweeping the exams or becoming a top-tier scholar.

He remembered reading in a novel from his past life that in a certain Ming emperor’s era, becoming the top scholar (Zhuangyuan) would only invite disaster, as the top ministers of the time would make life impossible for such people. He couldn't verify if that was true, but he didn't want to be a tall poppy. Enjoying his life was his only goal.

Wu Dong naturally had a collection of such essays, and quite a few, too. Excluding the duplicates, many were new to Wei Guangde. Reading them over and over would help him remember, but that wasn't as reliable as having his own copy to study whenever he had free time.

Unfortunately, most of the articles Wu Dong collected were handwritten copies, as these low-level essays weren't worth printing and selling in bookstores.

Looking at the essays Wei Guangde had pulled out, Wu Dong laughed. "I'll find someone to copy a set for you later. It’ll only cost a few taels of silver; there are plenty of scholars who would scramble for the chance to copy these for you. But copying them yourself is truly the best way—not only does it deepen your memory, but it also improves your calligraphy. By the way, at the gathering the day after tomorrow, you can ask the others. I can't speak for everyone else, but the Zeng family is sure to have plenty of such essays..."