Chapter 19: Rich Harvest

The guests at the literary banquet first stared in silence, then burst into laughter and raised their cups.

“To Young Master Lu!”

After a brief round of polite small talk, Zhou Mingyuan drew near.

“It’s getting late—why not go pick your books first, Young Master Lu?”

Lu Beigu was not one to be stubborn; since these were the rightful prizes for winning, he accepted them without further modesty.

Inside the library, Lu Beigu walked straight to the Classics section.

For Lu Beigu, the primary purpose of choosing books was to aid his studies and improve his scores; reselling them for profit was not in his consideration.

After carefully reviewing them, he selected three books most helpful for raising his mastery of ink-justice.

One was a annotated edition of Kong Yingda’s *Commentary on the Zuo Tradition of the Spring and Autumn Annals*, based on Du Yu’s *Collected Annotations of the Spring and Autumn Classic and its Transmission*, synthesizing the scholarly achievements of the Six Dynasties since Han and Wei, line-by-line elucidating the subtle meanings of the Zuo Tradition, and examining names, institutions, and historical contexts; as one of the *Five Classics Orthodoxy*, it was the Tang dynasty’s official standard commentary on the Spring and Autumn.

Though this book itself was not especially expensive on the market, Lu Beigu immediately saw that the previous annotator’s level was extraordinary.

The dense marginal notes beside it cut straight to the point, with not a single wasted word—perfect for his urgent goal of improving his scores, especially for questions on the Spring and Autumn’s doctrinal analysis.

Another book was likewise a notebook edition by this anonymous predecessor, also one of the *Five Classics Orthodoxy*: *Commentary on the Book of Rites*.

Since the Song imperial examinations placed heavy emphasis on ritual studies, and Emperor Renzong’s reign made “ritual governance” its cornerstone, this predecessor’s notes offered exhaustive explanations of textual glosses and doctrinal interpretations of the *Commentary on the Book of Rites*, enabling Lu Beigu to swiftly grasp the core of the Five Rites—auspicious, inauspicious, military, guest, and celebratory—and precisely answer ink-justice questions on ritual details.

The third was a well-preserved printed edition of Lu Chun’s *Collected Explanations of the Spring and Autumn Transmission*, published during the Yuanhe era of the Tang Xianzong, with no annotations.

This book was roughly contemporary with the *Song of Everlasting Regret*, representing the reformist thought of Tang’s “New Spring and Autumn Studies”; in it, Lu Chun inherited and expanded Dan Zhu’s rejection of Han Confucians’ rigid adherence to the Zuo Tradition, incorporating the Gongyang and Guliang commentaries to reconstruct the Spring and Autumn’s doctrine around the principle of “honoring the king and repelling the barbarians.”

The Song imperial examinations increasingly valued practical application, and the Three Masters of Early Song frequently referenced this book in their study of the Spring and Autumn; its systematic synthesis of the text’s “principles and conventions” provided candidates with a clear framework for answering questions, especially when analyzing the Spring and Autumn’s stylistic judgment and historical praise or blame—cutting through verbose commentaries to reach doctrinal essentials, aligning perfectly with the Song Confucians’ pragmatic turn.

Thus, the two annotated editions allowed Lu Beigu to absorb the predecessors’ insights and rapidly deepen his understanding of the *Zuo Tradition* and the *Book of Rites*, while the *Collected Explanations of the Spring and Autumn Transmission* unified the Three Traditions, enabling him to grasp the Song Confucians’ intellectual origins in studying the Spring and Autumn.

Combined with the half-volume of his own copied *Supplement to the Guliang Commentary*, this would fill the gap in his knowledge of Guliang, the least studied of the Three Traditions.

In short, the books he gained today would propel his ink-justice scores to dramatic improvement in a short time!

“Just these three books?”

Zhou Mingyuan had not followed him into the library; he spoke only after Lu Beigu emerged.

“Yes.”

Zhou Mingyuan nodded, but did not even glance at the three books; instead, he pulled out several sheets of paper and asked with a smile.

“By the way, Young Master Lu, could you inscribe a few characters on this copied draft of *Heavenly River Water*?”

“Of course.”

Since the man did not suspect him of disgracing literature, Lu Beigu was happy to oblige.

He then picked up his brush and wrote on a desk before Shuyu Pavilion: “Dedicated respectfully to Brother Mingyuan.”

After leaving the library, Lu Beigu conversed with the others once more before taking his leave as the sun sank.

Besides the half-handwritten volume, the three Tang-era classics, and a top-grade She inkstone, his satchel now held fifty guan in Jiaozi paper money—truly a rich harvest.

Lu Guangyu, his companion, showed no sign of covetousness toward these items.

Song people were deeply fond of Guanpu, and viewed winning prizes as perfectly fair—let the capable take the rewards!

Thus, it was rare to find anyone shamelessly demanding “a share for all who see.”

But Lu Beigu felt that, since Lu Guangyu had kindly invited him to the gathering, and had shouted for help when he fell into the water, saving him,

to treat all these gains as his due and offer nothing in return would weigh heavily on his conscience.

At a roadside rest, Lu Beigu stopped beneath a willow, took the dark-green She inkstone from his satchel, and watched its icy veins gleam faintly in the twilight, like frozen tears.

“Had it not been for Brother Lu’s recommendation to join this literary gathering, I would never have had this opportunity,” he said, offering the inkstone to Lu Guangyu.

“No, no, I cannot accept!”

Lu Guangyu stepped back two paces, waving his hands: “I’ve heard this She inkstone is worth over twenty guan—it’s far too valuable for me, and my mediocre writing hardly deserves such a fine stone.”

“A gentleman in the world has no fixed preference or aversion—he acts only according to righteousness. Brother Lu, I have yet to repay your life-saving grace, nor your kindness in recommending me to this gathering. Are you trying to force me into unrighteousness? This is but a small token of my gratitude.”

With Lu Beigu speaking thus, Lu Guangyu could no longer refuse.

To insist on refusal would imply holding a favor over someone for future gain—unworthy of a gentleman.

He accepted the inkstone and bowed deeply to Lu Beigu.

“In that case, I cannot refuse your generosity.”

On the way back, reeds rustled by the stream, startling a few wild egrets into flight.

Yet Lu Beigu’s mood now differed greatly from when he had arrived.

Yesterday’s unresolvable rent problem had been solved today, almost incidentally, by a single essay.

“The saying in Emperor Zhenzong’s *Exhortation to Study*: ‘A comfortable home needs no lofty halls—books contain golden houses’—is truly true in this age.”

As dusk settled, Lu Beigu pushed open the creaking courtyard gate.

In the dim yellow glow from the kitchen, Pei Yan was bending to refill a clay pot; at the sound, she straightened abruptly, her loose strands damp with steam.

“Why are you back so late?” Her voice taut with worry.

Before she finished speaking, her eyes fixed on the satchel Lu Beigu had placed on the courtyard’s stone table.

The clatter woke the white cat dozing beneath the peach tree.

Doufu sprang up, tail erect, darting over to paw curiously at the book spines peeking from the satchel’s gap.

“Stop it.”

He gently brushed aside her paws and took out three finely bound classics.

“Prizes from the literary gathering.”

He then opened the last book; as the pages rustled, several dried incense tags fluttered down—placed inside to repel bookworms.

Beneath them lay ten Jiaozi notes, each worth five guan.

Jiaozi were paper money born from Sichuan’s cumbersome iron coin trade; originally used privately, the Song court established the Yizhou Jiaozi Office over thirty years ago to issue official Jiaozi.

By Emperor Renzong’s reign, Jiaozi came only in five-guan and ten-guan denominations, used mostly for large transactions; ordinary folk still relied on iron and copper coins.

Pei Yan quickly shut the gate and pulled him into the kitchen.

“Tell me honestly—where did this money come from?”

——————

① The Five Classics are the *Book of Songs*, *Book of Documents*, *Book of Rites*, *Book of Changes*, and *Spring and Autumn Annals*. The *Five Classics Orthodoxy* is the Tang dynasty’s official commentary series compiled by Kong Yingda and others under imperial command, adhering to the principle “commentaries must not contradict the original texts,” preserving the original scope in interpretation. Completed under Emperor Gaozong, it unified the Five Classics’ content and became the standard textbook for Tang imperial examinations. By the Song’s Jiayou era, it was no longer the official exam standard but retained significant reference value.

② Guanpu was a popular Song-era practice blending shopping and gambling: merchants often invited customers to gamble for goods. After selecting an item, a customer could either pay the fixed price or wager a small sum in a game of chance—winning meant taking the item, losing meant forfeiting the money to the shop.

③ From the *Analects of Confucius, Li Ren*: “A gentleman in the world has no fixed preference or aversion—he acts only according to righteousness.”

(End of Chapter)