Chapter 31: Crisis at the Commandery School

The Confucian students straightened their robes and composed themselves, abandoning their earlier arrogance, and bowed to Wang Yang: “I am grateful for your teaching. I am Yu Yuling of Xinye, courtesy name Zijie. May I ask your noble name, elder brother?”

The Yu clan of Xinye was a high-ranking gentry family of Jingzhou, ranked alongside the Yue clan of Yuyang, the Liu clan of Neye, and the Zong clan of Nanyang as the “Four Great Families of Jingzhou.” Though they could not rival the top-tier clans like Wang, Xie, Liu, or He, they stood among the elite of Jingzhou.

The four families held comparable prestige in Jingzhou, but in terms of influence at court and familial power, the Yu clan was unquestionably the foremost in Jingzhou.

Of the forty-three students at the commandery school, only Yu Yuling dared block the school’s main gate in broad daylight; his classmates assumed he relied on the Yu family’s prestigious name to act so boldly. Few knew his father had repeatedly warned him not to meddle in this crisis.

Yu Yuling had even moved into the commandery school, openly defying his family.

Thus, his act of blocking the gate stemmed not from family clout, but from his reckless nature and fiery passion alone.

Wang Yang knew nothing of the Yu clan of Xinye, but he understood that in this era, few who entered the commandery school came from ordinary families. He did not return the bow, only nodded slightly: “Wang Yang of Langya, courtesy name Zhiyan.”

The seven or eight students eavesdropping behind the gate burst out in shock: “Langya Wang? Is he from the Langya Wang clan?!”

“It’s the Langya Wang family! Did I hear right?!”

“Which branch of the Wang clan?”

Yu Yuling showed no interest in these questions; he asked instead: “May I ask, what is your lordship’s master?”

Not asking about lineage, but about the teacher—this was true scholar’s conduct. But my teacher is from the twenty-first century; you wouldn’t know him.

Wang Yang did not fabricate a name, but said: “It is not for outsiders to know.” He pulled out a letter he had prepared: “Can you deliver this for me now?”

Yu Yuling hesitated for several seconds, then sighed, took the letter, and said, “Wait a moment,” before entering the gate. He had taken only two steps when he stopped, turned back, and said solemnly:

“Since Emperor Xiaowu of Jin’s Taiyuan Ninth Year, when Xie Shi petitioned to restore the national academy, the Jingzhou Commandery School has stood for one hundred and nine years. Through a century of war and chaos, Jingzhou’s scholarly tradition has never faltered, nurturing countless scholars—thanks to this institution. The Way of learning cannot be monopolized! The Current Text of the Book of Documents must not be abolished! I beg you, Lord Wang, to consider this!”

With that, he bowed to Wang Yang and walked away swiftly.

Wang Yang pondered Yu Yuling’s words, utterly baffled. Consider what?

Inside the commandery school’s study hall, an old man and a young girl were conversing.

The elder, in his fifties or sixties, with gray hair and beard, exuded scholarly grace—he was Liu Zhao, the school’s Sacrificial Wine Master.

The young girl, naturally exquisite and radiant, was Xie Xinghan, known as the “Little Xie Daoyun.” She sat opposite Liu Zhao, her expression apologetic, speaking quietly.

Liu Zhao had once studied under Xie Xinghan’s grandfather, Xie Zhuang, and had long been friends with her father, Xie Fei. Since her arrival in Jingzhou, she had relied on Liu Zhao’s care. Now, facing this crisis, she had exhausted herself, tirelessly seeking solutions.

Seeing the young girl weighed down by worry, Liu Zhao felt guilt rise within him and comforted her:

“You must not blame yourself, niece. Master Hui Xu has long withdrawn from worldly affairs; her refusal to intervene is understandable. I will find a way. Rest well—do not exhaust yourself further.”

“Has my uncle found a solution? Has there been word from the Prince of Jingling?” At the thought that the Prince of Jingling might help, Xie Xinghan’s spirits lifted.

“I plan to rally the Jingzhou gentry and publicly petition the Prince at his mansion. If he refuses to see us, we will wait outside until he emerges. We will forgo state funding entirely and bear all school expenses ourselves! As long as the commandery school is preserved, I will concede everything—except the annual recommendation slots from the National Academy!”

Xie Xinghan cried out: “You must not do this! The Prince of Badong’s temper will make this backfire!”

The Prince of Badong already favored the Wang Pavilion Academy, which was controlled by the capital gentry who had come with him to Jingzhou.

Thus, his partiality toward the Wang Pavilion Academy stemmed not only from its founding by the Prince of Yuzhang, but possibly also from his support of the capital gentry.

If Liu Zhao truly united the local gentry in protest, would he not be openly declaring opposition to the Prince?

“I know. But this is the only option left. Besides, I’m not just doing this for the Prince—I’m doing it for Liu Tan too. Whether he seeks scholarly debate or personal prestige, I must show him the resolve of Jingzhou’s scholar-officials to preserve learning! If in the end the school must still be abolished...”

Liu Zhao drew a deep breath, his gaze resolute:

“Then let the Prince send his troops! I, Liu Zhao, will sit right here—until the commandery school perishes with me!”

Most women in her place would have urged caution or offered soothing words. But Xie Xinghan shared Liu Zhao’s stubbornness, and admired the same resolve: “Better to shatter like jade than survive as pottery.”

She said solemnly: “Since I have taken up this matter, I will see it through to the end. Liu Tan’s younger brother, Liu Cheng, is acquainted with me—I will ask him to persuade his elder brother. Also, Master Yu Yi has the broadest network in Jingzhou and influence in the capital; if he speaks up, even if the Prince ignores him, he will think twice—this will buy us time.”

“Yu Yi... I’ve always regarded him as a friend.” Liu Zhao shook his head, his face filled with disappointment. “Not only is his second son a student here, but as the leader of Jingzhou’s gentry, he has no excuse to stand idle.”

As if summoned, just as Liu Zhao mentioned Yu Yi’s second son, Yu Yuling’s voice sounded outside the door.

“Master, I have something to report.”

Xie Xinghan did not wish to meet outsiders; she looked to Liu Zhao, who nodded. She stepped behind a lacquered painted screen.

Once she was settled, Liu Zhao called for the visitor.

“Someone seeks you, Master. Here is his letter.” Yu Yuling presented the letter, head bowed, dejected.

Liu Zhao took the letter, surprised: “You actually delivered it? That’s rare. I told you long ago: since the Wang Pavilion Academy came prepared, blocking them won’t work.”

“A disciple serves his master’s labor. I am incapable, but at least I can shield you from those hollow fools. But this man is different.”

Seeing Yu Yuling’s gloomy face, Liu Zhao guessed the truth, and as he opened the letter, said:

“I’ve told you before: beyond the mountains rise higher mountains. A little humility won’t hurt. After you silenced Wu’s official, you were so proud you nearly floated to the heavens. Now you see your mistake?”

“I assumed he must have studied the Book of Documents, so I questioned him on the Analects and the Spring and Autumn Annals—but he... could he possibly master two classics?” Yu Yuling muttered softly.

The Five Classics were vast; mastering one could bring fame in one’s lifetime. The Analects was not among the Five Classics, so Yu Yuling suspected this young lord might have mastered both the Spring and Autumn Annals and the Book of Documents.

Liu Zhao heard none of Yu Yuling’s words—he had glanced at the letter’s text, and the world around him vanished.

Yu Yuling, receiving no reply, raised his head—and froze in shock. His master held the letter, pupils dilated, hands trembling.

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Note: ① Screens could be translucent silk as often seen in TV dramas, or fully opaque. For those unfamiliar with the idea of someone hiding behind a screen, see the lacquered wooden screen panels unearthed from the tomb of Sima Jinlong of Northern Wei.

② The Princes of Badong, Jingling, and Yuzhang may seem confusing now—just as the protagonist felt lost upon arrival. Students need not rush; these connections will gradually unfold.