Chapter Fifteen: The Boy with the Banner

With an endless supply of banana leaf paper, Su Lu’s studies finally proceeded without delay.

That evening, Su Youtai wrote a large “Yong” character on the paper and at last began to formally teach him calligraphy.

“Though the ‘Yong’ character is simple, it contains all the brushstrokes and structures of regular script. Now, I’ll use ‘Yong’ as an example to teach you the essential brush techniques.” As he spoke, he deconstructed the character, writing each stroke with care:

“The dot is slanted—set the brush at an angle, bring the tip down sharply, spread the brush and move steadily, then finish with strength and control.

The horizontal stroke is ‘restrained’—press the tip against the paper moving against the grain, start slowly and return swiftly, never sweep straight across.

The vertical stroke is ‘strong as a crossbow’—it should not be too straight, or it will appear stiff and lifeless. There must be a subtle curve within the uprightness…”

After mastering the eight principles of the “Yong” character, Su Lu followed his father’s instructions, first tracing the characters, then copying them, pondering over every detail and practicing again and again.

Calligraphy is a slow art—one cannot rush it. Memorization, however, is a race against time. If you’re slow, you won’t finish in time… It was already September, and he had not yet begun to recite the all-important “Four Books.”

The reason was simple: after finishing the “Lesser Four Books,” there were no more four-character verses that were so easy to memorize.

The “Classic of Filial Piety” was manageable, only 1,800 characters, mostly dialogues between Confucius and Zengzi. As everyone knows, Confucius’ words are concise and elegant, making them easy to memorize. Su Lu mastered it in half a day…

As for the content of the “Classic of Filial Piety”—whether it was brainwashing or restricting the mind, he did not care. Turning oneself into a cold, unfeeling exam machine is a basic requirement for candidates.

Even if those above claimed snow was black and coal was white, if it might appear on the test, he would recite it all the same, without a word of protest.

After all, once the exam is over, the knowledge is useless—why bother with right or wrong…

The real challenge was the “Elementary Learning.” This text was entirely compiled by Zhu Xi, who excerpted passages from the classics. The book consisted of six volumes and 27,000 characters, divided into inner and outer sections. The inner volumes included “Establishing Instruction,” “Clarifying Ethical Relations,” “Respecting the Self,” and “Examining the Ancient”—mainly selections from the Confucian classics, “the essence of the Thirteen Classics.”

There were also two outer volumes, “Admirable Words” and “Good Deeds,” collecting the wise sayings and virtuous actions of sages through the ages. These two volumes alone amounted to 27,000 characters—the bulk of the book.

Fortunately, “Elementary Learning” was meant for enlightenment, and the content was not deep; Su Lu could understand most of it. Still, there were words he didn’t recognize and phrases he couldn’t comprehend, so he had to study it from start to finish with his father.

“When a child can eat, teach him to use his right hand. When he can speak, boys answer ‘yes,’ girls answer ‘yu.’ Boys’ sashes are of leather, girls’ sashes are of silk…” Su Youtai explained, “The word ‘pan’ is pronounced ‘pugan.’ This sentence comes from the ‘Book of Rites’ and means when a child can feed himself, he should be taught to use his right hand. When he can talk, teach him to answer—boys use ‘yes,’ girls use ‘yu.’ Boys’ pouches are made of leather, girls’ of silk.”

Su Lu’s brush flew as he quickly recorded points of confusion. To be fair, his writing speed had improved by leaps and bounds.

But this line-by-line explanation slowed things down. His father, exhausted by nightfall, could only cover about 3,000 characters per evening.

“At this rate, how long will it take to memorize everything?” Su Lu couldn’t help but worry.

“You should count yourself lucky. In the past, students had to memorize the ‘Collected Annotations on Elementary Learning’ too, which was even longer.” Su Youtai took a sip of honey water to soothe his throat.

“Why don’t we memorize it anymore?” Su Lu asked.

“Because the compiler, Chen Xuan, was falsely accused by eunuchs in the late Chenghua era and died in prison. The former emperor decreed all schools to stop using his annotations. Though he was posthumously exonerated, the Ministry of Rites never petitioned to restore his work.” Su Youtai continued, “To put it plainly, since the imperial exams don’t test on ‘Elementary Learning,’ everyone wants to spare themselves the trouble.”

“That’s exactly right,” Su Lu agreed wholeheartedly.

As a result, it took him nine whole days to memorize the “Elementary Learning,” and that was eating and sleeping with the book, barely managing to finish it.

The most harrowing day was the third of September. That day, Su Lu studied the final section of “Good Deeds,” reviewed “Hundred Family Surnames” and “Thousand Character Classic” for the seventh and final time; reviewed “Clarifying Ethical Relations” for the sixth time, “Admirable Words” for the fifth, and “Good Deeds” for the fourth!

So much content—just reading it would make your head spin, let alone memorizing it. It took him a full eight hours to finish, until his eyes were glazed…

“Qiu, take a rest. Have some honey water to bring your spirit back,” Su Youtai and Su Tai were distressed to see him like this, doing everything they could to care for him.

Of course, his father was only responsible for worrying; the actual care fell to his elder brother…

The truth was, both of them were exhausted as well. The clan school was also in exam preparation mode. Su Youtai’s teaching duties were heavy by day, and he had to spend long evenings tutoring his son. He was so tired, his eyes were ringed and his throat hoarse. Still, seeing his son’s diligence and drive, he was happier than anything and willing to bear the exhaustion.

As for Su Tai, work at the brewery was already hard enough—he had to go to the river or the mountains from time to time to provide for Su Lu’s studies. He was so tired he’d lost his double chin.

~~

Before they knew it, Double Ninth Festival had arrived.

This day was the grand occasion for adding ingredients and brewing the new batch of wine at the brewery. It was more important than the New Year, as everyone’s livelihood depended on it.

On this day, every winery would hold a solemn “Double Ninth Grain-Lowering” ceremony, and the Su family was no exception. All the men turned out, and even Su Lu had to help.

He had nothing to complain about—even his eldest brother, Chun, had returned from Taiping Academy. According to their aunt, who was bursting with pride, his brother would even participate in the ceremony to offer sacrifices to Heaven…

Su Lu would also be on stage, but only as one of the flag bearers—a mere background prop.

Even as a prop, he was summoned early to the brewery, joining the other flag-bearing youths to receive instructions from their grand-uncle, Su Youpeng, on where to stand and what to shout during the ceremony.

It was simple enough: stand at intervals with the flags, and once the ceremony began, repeat whatever their uncle called out—essentially a row of human loudspeakers.

After instructing them, Su Youpeng went off to handle other matters, and the Su family youths gathered round to chat…

“I heard that after Chun and the others finish, they each get a piece of pork,” grumbled a chubby boy. “Why do we have to wave flags for free?”

“Because they’re offering sacrifices and singing,” replied a tall, skinny boy.

“But we have to shout too!” the chubby one protested.

“Anyone with a mouth can shout like you. What Chun does, you have to go to the academy to learn,” the tall one laughed.

“Just wait, I’ll get in next year and eat pork too!” the chubby boy boasted, full of envy.

“Good ambition,” the other boys teased. “But it’s more reliable for your mother to raise a piglet for you. Then you can have belly pork or trotters whenever you want!” The group burst into laughter.

This is the way of youth—a few idle jokes would have them all roaring with laughter. Such is the vigor of being young!

Only Su Lu didn’t laugh—not out of pride, but because after he suffered heatstroke, the chubby boy had come to visit him… Later, his second brother introduced the boy as Su Lang, a cousin from their seventh grandfather’s line and Su Lu’s childhood playmate.

All these flag-bearing boys were similar in age and kin, so they had played together as children. But while they continued their studies, Su Lu had gone home to work, and as they grew, they naturally drifted apart.

That Su Lang still came to see him was quite precious…

“Qiu, I heard from the teacher you’re going to take the academy exam too?” Su Lang sidled up and asked.

“Yes,” Su Lu nodded.

“You really don’t want to be an apprentice, do you?” another boy said, thinking himself insightful.

“No, I just don’t want to work,” Su Lu nodded again.

“I thought so. You barely know a handful of characters—how will you pass the academy exam?” The boys burst out laughing. At thirteen or fourteen, boys love to speak their minds to prove they’re not little kids anymore.

“What are you saying?” Su Lang wasn’t having it and scolded them. “If you can’t say anything nice, then shut up!”

“Fine, he can pass,” the boys replied sarcastically. “You can pass too. You’ll both pass. Happy now?”

“Thank you for your kind wishes,” Su Lu kept smiling and held back the indignant Su Lang.

Given his mental age, he couldn’t be angered by a group of kids.

And of course, the others had no time to waste on him either. They were all preparing for the Taiping Academy exam, so memorizing their texts was far more important.

Seeing this, Su Lu set a “tomato timer” in his mind and quietly reviewed his lessons for the day.

After a while, the boys found recitation dull and began quizzing each other instead. One would give a line, and the rest would race to answer with the next. It was clear that students and non-students had little in common anymore.

Their quiz covered material for the academy’s oral exam—something Su Lu had never witnessed before. When his mental timer ended, he watched in earnest and was surprised at how difficult it was…

The boys did their best to stump each other, focusing on the “Lesser Four Books” and “Elementary Learning,” and the questions rarely exceeded four characters. The respondent had to recall the source and recite the next line verbatim—a true test of memory and quick thinking.

“The third,” the tall, skinny boy posed a question that was particularly fiendish.

“The third? What kind of question is that?” The others scratched their heads, completely stumped. “Are you messing with us?”

“Relax, I’m not messing with you,” he replied. “There’s only one ‘the third’ in all the books.”

The boys exchanged looks. “Give us a hint—where is it from?”

“Will the examiner give you hints?” He refused to budge.

“Forget it, we give up. You win this round,” they conceded.

Just as they were about to give up, someone spoke up: “The third: To hate those who surpass oneself, to delight in flattery, to care only for idle conversation and not for the wisdom of the ancients, to envy the good in others, to broadcast others’ faults—all these corrode virtue. Wearing fine attire but acting like a servant, what difference is there?”

“That’s it! Not a single character wrong—impressive!” The tall boy gave a thumbs up.

“Wow…” The boys stared in disbelief, feeling more than a little deflated, for the one who answered was the very Su Lu they’d looked down on.

“Amazing, Qiu!” Su Lang threw an arm around Su Lu’s neck, delighted. “When the ‘sharp-tongue’ poses a question, it’s rare for anyone to answer even one out of ten!”

Su Lu now understood that “sharp-tongue” in their dialect meant someone who delighted in difficult, tricky questions. He smiled. “I just learned it recently—it was fresh in my mind.”

“Oh, that’s why,” the boys said, relieved and a little less downcast.

“Yes, you all memorized these early on, it’s normal to forget. A little review and it’ll come back,” Su Lu encouraged them with a smile.

“Of course!” The boys, easily pleased, began chattering and joking with him.

“Qiu, do you know the ‘Four Books and Their Commentaries’ as well?”

“I haven’t started yet,” Su Lu replied honestly.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” the boys said, a little regretful. “If you’d worked hard a couple years earlier, you might have had a shot.”

“It’s all right. As long as you all pass, I’ll just take the opportunity to gain some experience,” Su Lu replied with his usual calm, unruffled smile.