One night passed.
The second day of the imperial exams, answering questions began early.
Today, Liu Ji finally picked up his pen.
The exam hall didn't even have any mugwort burning; mosquitoes bit him all night, leaving his body covered in red welts, itching terribly.
As Liu Ji scratched here and there, he began to write boldly and at length on the blank answer sheet.
Sikong Jian, who had been watching Liu Ji's every move closely, immediately appeared on horseback.
He thought this country bumpkin was just messing around.
Unexpectedly, he actually wrote a real essay.
Moreover, his handwriting was quite beautiful and neat.
Liu Ji sensed someone's astonishment and felt secretly pleased.
Sikong, you didn't expect this, did you? This time I can really answer.
Actually, when yesterday's exam question was revealed, Liu Ji knew he had it.
This question was similar to one he had practiced before, with a resemblance of seventy to eighty percent.
