White Crane Academy in Tongzhou enjoyed a prestigious reputation across the nation, largely due to its rigorous admission standards.
All prospective students were required to meet several basic qualifications.
First and foremost: age and academic credentials.
Young talents from around the country who had passed the provincial exam and earned the title of xiucai were eligible to apply, so long as they were under the age of twenty-five.
What if someone had already passed the xiucai exam but was over twenty-five?
Too bad. That likely meant White Crane Academy wasn’t for you. This academy was, after all, meant for the still-youthful who needed guidance in life. For mature, well-read gentlemen, such assistance was presumably unnecessary.
That was the official explanation.
As for the real reason? Everyone knew the truth—if you’d needed multiple attempts to even pass the basic children’s exam (tongshi), it probably meant your natural aptitude was lacking. There was little point in wasting the academy’s time, money, and resources on you.
Next came the requirement for a clean background—and the successful completion of various entrance evaluations.
Even if you had passed the xiucai exam under twenty-five, and were thus a rare, gifted youth, that didn’t mean just anyone could waltz in and study.
You first needed to be either recommended by a trusted source or apply on your own initiative—submitting a formal petition to the academy, and then passing several trials.
Though the academy described all this in elegant and refined prose, Mu Qing instantly recognized something very familiar—it was basically a job application.
Prepare a résumé, ask a trusted professor or mentor for a recommendation, then wait for your ideal institution to review and decide. The entire process was no different from applying to a prestigious foreign university—or a fresh graduate job-hunting in the modern world.
Once the initial selection stage—the “petition” submission—was passed, candidates would then move on to a written exam.
And if they passed that? All remaining applicants would be brought together for a final assessment by the Headmaster and other faculty, where their character, knowledge, and conduct would be judged. In short—a panel interview.
This kind of process was commonplace in modern society. Mu Qing herself had gone through plenty of school applications and job interviews back in the day. She could practically go through the motions with her eyes closed.
But in this world, only White Crane Academy had such a system.
Other academies either lacked the qualifications to be selective, or they had the option but found it too troublesome.
After all, not everyone liked following rules. Not everyone wanted to jump through hoops just to hand-pick ideal students.
As a result, in more than ten years, White Crane Academy remained one of a kind.
Sure, the procedures were undeniably tedious—but they also ensured a consistently high caliber of admitted students. The academy had indeed produced a number of truly dazzling talents.
Word had it that in the past five years, ten of the top three scholars in the national palace examinations were graduates of White Crane Academy. Of those, four had taken first place.
Such a blinding track record had earned the school national fame.
With such success, the academy had every right to act high and mighty.
And so, this year, the hopeful applicants were “honored” to learn that the admissions process had once again changed.
As for what exactly those changes entailed? Well, the students would just have to “wait and see.”
This “announcement” was brazenly posted at the academy’s main gate, causing a wave of wails and complaints among the candidates.
Many of them had spent months preparing according to the old routine. Nobody expected that with no warning whatsoever, White Crane Academy would just up and change the rules this year.
For the past decade, the admissions procedure had remained essentially the same. Even though the test content varied, the process was at least predictable. With some preparation, one wouldn’t do too badly. No one ever imagined it would be completely overhauled this time.
Not only were they caught off guard—they didn’t even know what to prepare for now.
The academy gates buzzed with noise and chatter. It hardly resembled a prestigious scholarly institution. It looked more like a bustling marketplace—utter chaos.
It was at this moment that Mu Qing arrived at the gates of White Crane Academy.
Since the school did not allow women on the premises, Mu Qing, following local customs, once again dressed in men’s attire. She and her husband accompanied her little brother, arriving by carriage.
Her parents had originally wanted to come too, but her little brother flatly refused—he thought he was too old to be escorted by the whole family. Having everyone swarming around him at such a critical moment was just too embarrassing.
He had always been stubborn. Once his mind was made up, it was hard to change. Eventually, Mu Qing stepped in and mediated a compromise: their adopted brother Mu Hai would accompany their parents and wait in a carriage nearby to watch from afar, without approaching the gates. Only then did the little prodigy reluctantly agree.
Of course, his attitude toward Mu Qing and her husband was very different.
“Sister and Brother-in-law are another matter entirely. Of course, they have to come with me.”
Though young, he had already perfected the art of the double standard. When it came to his elder sister Mu Qing, he had always had an unreasoning admiration—and that admiration naturally extended to her husband as well.
To be fair, Mu Qing knew that her little brother’s admiration for her husband had little to do with her.
After all, this “brother-in-law” had once been someone he refused to even acknowledge. If it weren’t for her husband’s raw talent winning the respect of this studious little genius, who knew if he’d ever accept him?
Mu Qing couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of how close she’d come to marrying Liu Feng, the so-called Dragon-AoTian.
Thankfully, things were finally starting to look up.
For instance, her little brother—once so devoted to “Mister Liu”—had now fully switched camps. He now called her husband “brother-in-law” with ease and frequency. He even acted a little too enthusiastic at times, leaving Mu Qing both pleased and vaguely unsettled—was her own place in his heart being usurped?
It almost felt like she had only been invited to come along today because of her husband.
Truly, “a grown brother won’t stay”—Mu Qing wiped away an imaginary tear, one hand on her husband’s arm and the other holding her little brother, as they pushed into the crowd.
Liu Feng trailed silently beside them. Clearly, he planned to tag along with the Mu family’s connections to sneak into the trials—after all, old Master Chen, the boy’s former tutor, still held considerable influence.
With a recommendation letter from him, the process would be far smoother than stumbling through alone.
But seriously? You had just made the old man so angry he left, and now you wanted to ride his coattails again? That was beyond shameless—Mu Qing inwardly scorned Liu Feng’s behavior and started to seriously question how someone like this was supposed to be a protagonist.
Well… that did explain the importance of a protagonist halo. Without it, most of Liu Feng’s actions would seem no better than a common rascal’s. How else could he cruise through life with endless luck, countless admirers, and a destiny at the peak?
The four of them walking together instantly drew a crowd of stares.
They were simply too good-looking.
Though Mu Qing’s little brother was still a child, both her husband and Liu Feng were the very image of dashing young scholars.
And Mu Qing, despite being dressed as a man and notably shorter than the other two, had long grown used to wearing male attire while managing business affairs. In fact, she carried herself with even more presence than they did.
To match the occasion, she had donned a scholar’s robe and carried a folding fan—truly looking the part of a charming and refined gentleman.
The four of them together were unquestionably the brightest sight among all the applicants.
But Mu Qing wasn’t paying any attention to that.
Gazing at the crowd of examinees filling the academy gates, she sighed and turned to her husband. “Husband, there are far too many people. What do you think we should do?”
He blinked, then replied, “It’s always like this. We just need to wait a bit.”
Mu Qing forced a smile. “Alright, I guess we’ll just have to queue up patiently. We did arrive a little late.”
Their first task was to “submit the petition,” but to do that, they needed to actually enter the academy.
Something that should have been simple now looked daunting.
There were just too many people.
They had clearly underestimated the fervor of aspiring scholars. The whole thing had become a reactive scramble—they were already at a disadvantage.
Luckily, there was still enough time. After a brief discussion, Mu Qing and her husband prepared to line up with her little brother.
But just then, Liu Feng suddenly spoke.
“What’s the need for such trouble? Friends, allow this humble scholar to handle it.”
