Stare…
Wei Zheng, Fang Xuanling, and Li Shiji all felt a chill crawl up their backs at the same time.
Li Shiji immediately rose to apologize, but Li Shimin waved him down.
"I know full well that the ancestral lands of my esteemed ministers all lie in Shandong. It's only natural that one might admire those who use marriage to gather wealth."
Wei Zheng was from Julu Commandery.
Fang Xuanling hailed from Linzi, of the Qinghe Fang clan.
Li Shiji was from Lihu in Cao Prefecture.
The ministers' expressions grew increasingly solemn and cautious—while Li Shimin's smile became ever more gentle.
"However," Li Shimin continued mildly, "as Xuancheng once said: those above serve as the people's example. One must be cautious."
That was as far as he could go.
After all, if marriages had already been formed, could he really tear them apart on the spot? There was no such way of doing things.
Besides, Li Shimin saw things clearly. During the Zhenguan reign, these so-called great clans behaved like quails with their heads tucked in. The real trouble only came later.
So how, exactly, did these aristocratic clans grow so powerful?
Li Shimin scanned the text twice, then fixed his gaze on two terms:
Marriage Prohibition.
Imperial Examinations.
"Because everyone seeks marriage with the prohibited clans, they are able to amass wealth," he mused aloud.
"And because poetry and classics are passed down within the family and refined for the examinations, they are able to accumulate reputation?"
This was Li Shimin's own conclusion.
The ministers—freshly reminded—immediately showered him with praise:
"His Majesty speaks once and strikes directly at the root of the problem!"
"Your Majesty's insight penetrates to the marrow!"
"Congratulations to Your Majesty for discerning the lessons of history—this is a blessing to Great Tang!"
Li Shimin glanced at Wei Zheng, who was stubbornly craning his neck, and shook his head.
I have a feeling, he thought, that Wei Zheng won't be remembered in history merely for being good at annoying people.
On one hand, Wei Zheng disregarded imperial wishes and sought marriage with great clans. On the other, he tried to dissuade the emperor from taking a "peerlessly beautiful" clan daughter as a concubine.
Granted, his intentions were good—but—
No, no. Li Shimin shook his head again. These were all minor matters.
He raised a new question:
"What of the problem of redundant officials? How should it be resolved?"
Wei Zheng immediately stepped forward.
"Redundant officials are a chronic disease dating back to the Former Han. Looking across the previous dynasties, to eliminate this evil, earlier action is better than later."
Li Shimin nodded and turned his gaze to Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui.
Fang Xuanling stepped out carefully.
"To call money-capture outright 'selling offices' may be too blunt," he said, "yet those who gain office through it are inevitably driven by profit."
"To pursue profit for the people is a blessing to Great Tang. To pursue profit to enrich oneself is to become a parasite of the state."
"As for the patronage system—its flourishing reflects the height of Tang's power. But since later generations imposed restrictions, they must have perceived its harm. This requires Your Majesty's careful discernment."
It all sounded complicated.
Du Ruhui summed it up succinctly:
"Cut back money-capture. Reform patronage. Revise the old recommendation systems."
Then he added one more sentence:
"All must be done gradually."
Li Shimin nodded. In the end, he sighed.
"A hundred years of flourishing—and yet the dynasty lasts only three hundred years."
"Is this truly the accumulated flaw of Tang's founding?"
...
"A vast Tang that ruled all under Heaven—yet its lifespan was only two hundred eighty-two years. What a pity."
Liu Bei had previously watched as a spectator. Now, he genuinely felt sorrow for Tang.
No matter how one looked at it, Tang could be considered a brother dynasty to Han.
Martial spirit, eunuchs, maternal relatives—and now redundant officials as well.
They were practically blood brothers. How could one not sigh?
After the sigh came a precise judgment.
"The calamity of aristocratic clans poisons far more than a hundred years."
"In Tang, the concept of noble lineage was even stronger than in our Han."
Zhang Fei laughed loudly.
"Brother, after all, their ancestors were all kings and ministers. Of course they can't be compared to common folk farming or slaughtering dogs."
"So the only thing left is to hawk their daughters loudly to subsidize the household!"
Mi Zhu nodded in agreement.
"They elevate themselves through 'marriage prohibition.' Their methods resemble merchants—using reputation to trade for wealth."
"Then where is the nobility in that?"
Pang Tong cut in sharply.
"In a group of self-important clan youths who live in silks and brocade by trading sisters and daughters?"
"They suck the people dry outside, drain their sisters at home, and leech off ruler and father in court—fatting only their own families?"
"How are they any different from the Jiangdong rat-breed?"
Zhang Fei nodded vigorously, feeling that he had just witnessed the true power of scholarship.
Strategist Pang's learning was profound—even his insults had a refined flavor.
Zhang Fei couldn't help but wonder:
If Pang Tong truly lost his temper, who would be stronger—him, or that later fellow who said "I have never seen anyone so shameless"?
Unfortunately, Zhuge Liang did not indulge Zhang Fei's curiosity.
He wrote down Tang's various paths into office on a sheet of paper and examined them carefully.
Money-capture.
Recommendation.
Each term was crossed out in turn.
Finally, after some thought, Zhuge Liang circled one phrase:
Military Merit.
He then looked up, anticipation on his face.
His interest in the imperial examinations was growing stronger by the moment.
[Light-Screen]
[ It is well known that Tang-era examinations did not anonymize candidates, nor were grading standards uniform. The personal likes and dislikes of the examiners could greatly influence results.
As a result, aristocratic candidates quickly developed a proven formula:
Presentation of Gifts. Submission of Works. Re-submission.
First, they visited influential power-holders in the capital with lavish gifts, striving to establish connections. This was called presentation of gifts.
After gaining entry through vermilion gates, they proceeded to the second step: compiling their finest works—essays or poetry—into a volume. Aristocratic candidates often had their elders polish the writing beforehand. These volumes were submitted to elites to seek recognition. This was submission of works.
Before the examinations, successful submitters would visit again with the same works, reinforcing relationships and seeking recommendations. This was re-submission.
In mid-to-late Tang, especially powerful families even sent their compiled works directly to the Ministry of Rites through intermediaries—known as submission to the ministry, the most elite path of all.
Through these three—and sometimes four—steps, aristocrats easily widened the gap between themselves and commoners at every stage. The final outcome of the examinations was thus predictable from the start.
Among 830 named examination graduates recorded in the Old Book of Tang and New Book of Tang:
589 were from major aristocratic clans
109 from minor clans
Only 132 from humble or common backgrounds
The distribution grew worse over time.
Under Wu Zhou:
55 graduates — 34 aristocrats, 21 commoners
Under Emperor Xuanzong's successor:
132 graduates — 128 aristocrats, 4 commoners
One might think An Lushan was to blame—but what about Xuanzong's own reign?
In one year, of 30 recorded graduates, 27 were aristocrats and only 3 were commoners.
The most representative case came in Tianbao Year Six, before the An Lushan Rebellion. Xuanzong issued an edict to "widely seek talent."
Chancellor Li Linfu argued that large-scale examinations would attract impostors and lowborn troublemakers, threatening public order. He proposed that prefectures pre-screen candidates locally.
The logic sounded reasonable. He was given full control.
The result?
"Not a single commoner passed."
Li Linfu reported happily: "No worthy men remain undiscovered in the realm."
Thus were born the frontier poets—men unable to break through the aristocratic glass ceiling in Chang'an and Luoyang.
Figures such as Cen Shen, Gao Shi, and Wang Changling wandered between frontier commands.
Others, like Yan Zhuang and Gao Shang—An Lushan's close aides—had failed in Chang'an before defecting. Within three years, one became a registrar, the other chief secretary, and both returned home in splendor with the rebel army.
Objectively speaking, aristocratic competition through submission of works did promote literary culture. To succeed, one had to write beautifully—hence the brilliance of Tang parallel prose and regulated verse.
But it also bred vanity, factionalism, and corruption.
For example, Wang Wei personally played the pipa at Princess Yuzhen's residence to gain her recommendation.
Li Bai likewise entered her favor through The Jade-True Immortal Poem.
Meanwhile, the notorious official Yu Di—recorded as greedy and brutal—was lavishly praised by Han Yu in ornate prose, simply to succeed in submissions.
The ultimate result was factionalism.
Those who received submissions were called seat masters. Successful candidates became their disciples.
Another result was the concentration of failed scholars in Chang'an and Luoyang—eventually giving rise to a certain failed examinee named Huang Chao.]
"That's just bribery with fancy labels," Zhang Fei scoffed.
Liu Bei and Zhuge Liang remained silent.
If the earlier practices could still be framed as "seeking recognition," then once seat masters and disciples entered the picture, the truth was obvious.
Pang Tong reached a blunt conclusion:
"The examinations must be anonymized."
"Otherwise, before the test even begins, victory and defeat are already decided."
"What difference does it make whether the examination exists at all? Judging birth instead of talent—just recommendation under another name."
Zhuge Liang thought carefully, counting on his fingers.
"Handwriting. Ink. Paper quality—all reveal whether one is aristocrat or commoner."
"To be thorough, the court must provide the venue, paper, and ink. Submissions must be anonymized."
"Not enough," Liu Ba joined in.
"The examiners and the reviewers must be separated and unaware of each other."
Zhang Song stroked his sparse beard.
"People have preferences. Even our court debates schools of thought—how much more so in essays? Talents may still be overlooked."
Pang Tong said eagerly:
"Simple. Each paper is reviewed multiple times."
"But then…" Pang Tong counted again.
"Venues, materials, officials—countless numbers."
"To run examinations properly is no small task."
Watching the light-screen to the end, Zhang Fei sighed.
"So rebels actually had better prospects than the capital?"
"I can't tell whether late Tang looks more like Wei-Jin—or just copied our Han again."