Chapter Twenty-Two: Laughing Heartily on a Garden Stroll

Yangzhou City was divided into two parts: the Outer City to the south, where the residents lived and which spanned a vast area, and the Inner City to the north, where government offices and military garrisons were located, smaller in scale. At the very heart of the Outer City stood the Xiyue Academy—a city within the city itself. Scattered trees grew outside its enclosing walls, providing a measure of soundproofing. Yet, even though Xiyue Academy sat amidst the bustling city, inside it was tranquil. The four neighboring streets were seldom trodden, for most of the students hailed from powerful, wealthy families and noble houses; many a towering figure had emerged from its halls, men whose mere stamp could shake the world. Ordinary folk dared not disturb such a place.

Only on admissions day did the four streets surrounding Xiyue Academy teem with people, crowded with scholars who had journeyed from afar.

“Old sir, are you here to accompany your grandson for the exam?” Yu Lang couldn’t help but ask as he approached a white-haired elder, well into his sixties.

The old man smiled shyly, revealing a single large yellow tooth. “What nonsense! I’m still a bachelor.”

“I’m a candidate myself, here for the entrance examination.” Afraid Yu Lang wouldn’t believe him, the old man fished out his admission papers from his bundle. “I’m not so old. Look over there—see that couple? They’re here for the entrance exam too.”

Yu Lang followed his gaze and was stunned to see an elderly couple, surely seventy or eighty years old, supporting each other as they walked slowly forward. Truly, the hero’s heart knows no age.

“Young man, you must be new to the world,” the old man said earnestly. “As the saying goes, ‘At thirty, one is an old Mingjing scholar; at fifty, a young Jinshi; at sixty, entering Xiyue Academy, still a baby.’”

Yu Lang had heard the phrase about Mingjing and Jinshi before—meaning it was easy to attain the former, but the latter was hard. But this last part sounded odd indeed.

A thought occurred to Yu Lang. “May I ask, sir, what level have you attained in cultivation?”

The old man stroked his beard. “Ocean-Wandering Upper Realm.”

I—! You’re already at the Ocean-Wandering Upper Realm, what are you doing here? How am I, who hasn’t even opened my dantian, supposed to pull off a miracle?

The entrance examination would select only one from three thousand candidates. A bitter smile crept onto Yu Lang’s lips. From the moment he had met that madman of an instructor, Du Fu, he should have realized that this academy was anything but ordinary.

At noon, the gates of Xiyue Academy swung open, and all the candidates filed in. It was the day before the entrance exam, a chance for candidates to familiarize themselves with the test grounds and absorb a bit of the academy’s culture and atmosphere.

Xiyue Academy was roughly divided into four zones: the residential quarter, the academic quarter, the martial training quarter, and the administrative quarter. The residential area housed the academy’s dining hall, “Sibi Si,” and the student dormitory, “Zixing Hall.” The pavilions, towers, blossoming flowers, and willows seemed designed for students’ romantic pursuits. The second floor of the dining hall had separate bathing areas for men and women, and across from the hall stood the “Ten Thousand Treasures House” to satisfy students’ shopping needs.

Yu Lang fell into deep thought. He couldn’t believe the founder of this academy wasn’t a time traveler—this was indistinguishable from a university campus! Ah, the youth he thought he had lost, and now he had the chance to embrace it once more.

The academic quarter consisted of rows of three-story wooden pavilions, artfully staggered among ornamental rocks and streams—surely the place where instructors taught the classics, music, calligraphy, and painting. What drew Yu Lang most was the ten-story library tower, its summit emblazoned with four bold characters: “Mountain of Letters, Ocean of Art.” Such a grand structure was a true marvel for the Tang era.

The martial training quarter, apart from the small drill ground, had all its other halls shut tight, clearly off-limits to candidates. The administrative quarter was surrounded by red cord, strictly prohibiting entry.

As the tour wound down, a young candidate suddenly stepped across the red cord and declared loudly, “Who says the red cord means we can't enter? What Xiyue Academy lacks is someone like me, Li Dahu, who dares to think differently!”

Thunderous applause broke out—then the young man was promptly thrown out.

A stern voice echoed throughout the academy: “Those who seek attention will be disqualified from the examination.”

With an hour left before the gates closed, Yu Lang strolled idly through the academy, gazing fondly at every tree and blade of grass. His high school in his previous life had stood in almost the same spot in Yangzhou. Though a thousand years separated them, the warmth of this place made him linger.

“You like it here, don’t you? So do I.” A boy about Yu Lang’s age crouched atop a flowerbed, beaming.

He had a languid air, and casually patted Yu Lang’s shoulder. “I’m Xue Wenyang, from Gaoyou. My family has practiced medicine for generations. We’ll be classmates soon.”

Yu Lang was surprised. “How can you be so sure we’ll both be admitted?”

Xue Wenyang’s eyes held a fathomless depth. “I can’t speak for you, but my father is the richest man in Gaoyou, owns eighteen clinics, and has already slipped enough silver to a certain instructor. See you around!”

Was this guy just here to brag?

A commotion near the small drill ground caught Yu Lang’s attention, and he climbed up for a better view. A ring of candidates surrounded two youths facing off with swords.

“What’s going on?” Yu Lang asked another candidate nearby.

The boy pointed out, “That youth in green is Ma Youjian, the pride of Yangzhou’s younger generation—he once performed the legendary ‘Galloping Horse Flying Swallow’ with his lightness skill, and is known as the Flying Horse Swordmaster. The other, the slightly stout youth in blue, is Ju Peiyuan—no slouch either. At his young age, he’s already at Ocean-Wandering Middle Realm, and once single-handedly wiped out thirty river bandits on the Qinhuai. They call him ‘One Sword Cuts the Qinhuai.’ These two are close friends, but just now greeted the same young lady. She glanced back with a smile, and both thought it was meant for them, so now they’re dueling for her favor.”

“What sort of young lady could so captivate two heroes?” Yu Lang was curious.

The other boy pointed. “That girl holding the peach branch.”

Yu Lang turned. There, a young maiden with her hair coiled high, dressed in a gauzy gown, stood to one side gently savoring the scent of a half-broken peach branch. Her eyes were cast down, her features hidden.

Sensing his gaze, she slowly lifted her head, and an unmatched beauty was forever etched into Yu Lang’s heart.

She smiled, yet unlike any woman Yu Lang had ever met, she did not flaunt her beauty, but held it carefully in check—as if even in restraint, she still outshone all others in the world.

The enthusiastic boy was dumbstruck and couldn’t help but shout, “Heavens! Yang Yuhuan smiled at this country bumpkin! Everyone, come teach him a lesson!”

On the eve of the entrance exam, Yu Lang incurred the wrath of all the male candidates and was dragged into the drill ground for a sound beating.

With a nosebleed, Yu Lang stared at the half-sunken sun in a daze. “Yang...Yang Yuhuan.”