Chapter 36: Pointing Out Flaws

Wang Yang also sensed something amiss and was about to deflect the topic when Liu Zhao said, “Zhiyan is from Yixing, isn’t he? I’ve heard that in Yixing customs, during banquets, one taps the table with fingers to enliven conversation and signal others to listen quietly.”

There’s such a custom?!

Wang Yang smiled without committing, then said casually, “Sir, you’re truly learned and widely read. Since we’re away from home, let’s not speak of family matters—better to discuss the Book of Documents.” And he resumed talking about the Book of Documents.

Wang Yang’s first half-sentence was merely a casual compliment spoken over wine, but Liu Zhao, already aware of the “tapping table” custom, had preconceived notions and assumed Wang Yang must be from Yixing. Thus, when Wang Yang praised him, Liu Zhao interpreted it as Wang Yang tacitly confirming the connection.

It was also easy to understand why Wang Yang avoided the topic.

The orthodox Wang clan of Langya mostly resided in the capital Jiankang; this young master living in Yixing was clearly a fallen branch of the family. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he study in Jiankang instead of coming to Jingzhou? He was probably unwelcome among the great families of the capital—or perhaps too proud to rely on them and endure their condescension.

Before he could ponder further, Wang Yang touched upon a crucial point, and Liu Zhao immediately leaned forward to listen.

As Wang Yang spoke, he noticed the Blackie peering in from outside and knew the time had come; he shifted tone and said:

“In ancient times, texts were written on bamboo slips, and since the cords binding them would rot or break, the order of vertical slips would become jumbled—or even entire slips lost. That’s perfectly normal. The Book of Han says, ‘The classics may have missing slips; the commentaries may have misplaced bindings.’ Missing slips mean gaps; misplaced bindings mean disorder. Modern scholars, ignorant of bamboo-and-slip scholarship, copy the bamboo texts onto paper and treat them as definitive editions, unaware that the original copy might already have been erroneous.”

He set down his chopsticks and looked at the wide-eyed master and disciple, then said slowly:

“Take the chapter ‘Gao Yao Mo’ in the Book of Documents. The preceding passage says, ‘Truly follow virtue, wise counsel harmonizes,’ which is the historian’s narration, not Gao Yao’s own words. Then Yu the Great says, ‘Yu.’ ‘Yu’ means ‘yes.’ But who is being affirmed? Between these two lines, there must be a missing passage! First, Gao Yao spoke; then Yu the Great agreed—and asked. Only then does it make sense.”

Liu Zhao and Yu Yuling both nodded in agreement, feeling Wang Yang was a genius of scholarship—able to question what others took for granted! Such ability couldn’t be learned from reading alone; it relied more on innate talent.

Seeing their awe, Wang Yang knew Su Shi’s bold theory had won two more “fans.” He drained his cup and continued:

“There are many such examples in the Book of Documents—misplaced slips, erroneous characters—not just one. Sadly, today’s scholars are often blind to these errors and have lost the true meaning of the Book of Documents.”

He rose, bowed, and said, “Thank you for your hospitality. The night is late and the city gates will close—I must take my leave.”

This man had just claimed the current text of the Book of Documents might be flawed—and not just once!

What a monumental matter this was for scholars!

Liu Zhao and his disciple had been holding their breath, ears straining for the next point—only to hear Wang Yang was leaving. They exploded!

They leapt up to block him, insisting he stay the night, nearly grabbing him and forcing him back into his seat.

Wang Yang feigned reluctance: “But I still need to settle my bill at the tailor’s shop...”

“I’ll go!” Yu Yuling volunteered.

“No need. Let my retainer go.” Wang Yang called toward the door, “Blackie!”

Blackie rushed in, bowing properly with clasped fists: “Young Master.”

“Was it two thousand or three thousand coins I owed the tailor?”

Wang Yang wanted to say ten thousand outright, but borrowing such a sum from someone he’d just met would raise suspicion. Besides, ten thousand coins was too large a sum—borrowing that much so soon might invite complications. He aimed for a number that, to a scholar’s family, was “not much”—a small amount that would make Liu Zhao lend it without deeper thought.

Blackie, sensing the intent, answered: “Three thousand coins.”

In truth, Blackie would have preferred saying three thousand eight hundred, but he dared not decide on his own, fearing Wang Yang’s displeasure, so he “honestly” chose the higher figure.

Emboldened by wine, Wang Yang forced himself into an awkward performance: “Oh dear—can we still make it out of the city, get the money, and return in time?”

Yu Yuling asked plainly: “Where do you stay?”

Liu Zhao turned directly to Yu Yuling: “Go find He the steward. Withdraw three thousand coins from my private account and give it to this young man.”

Wang Yang said sincerely, “Thank you, Sir. I will repay you this money!”

Liu Zhao grabbed Wang Yang’s arm: “Forget about repayment! Come! Let us continue our scholarly debate!”

Wang Yang asked, “Do you have sweets here?”

“Of course. Zhiyan wants sweets? Do you like sugar crab, sugarcane, or honey cakes?”

Wang Yang thought a moment, then brazenly said, “All of them—and prepare a few of the dishes I just ate. Let my retainer take them home to give to a friend. Not too much trouble, is it?”

“No trouble at all,” Liu Zhao said dismissively. “Zijie, pay him first, then tell the kitchen: tonight, Zhiyan and I shall drink through the night!”

Blackie realized Wang Yang wanted sweets because he’d promised A Wu—and seeing that Wang Yang remembered even such a small thing, he was deeply moved.

Though his own meal that night couldn’t compare to Wang Yang’s, the county school, out of respect for Wang Yang, had served him well. He resisted the urge to sneak extra food, but secretly tucked away a sesame cake to take home for his daughter. Now it seemed his daughter would have a treat tonight...

The clouds were thin, the stars sparse, the dawn breeze brushed the moon.

While little A Wu was tearing apart a chicken leg with tearful delight, Wang Yang was lecturing on the Book of Documents...

While little A Wu was savoring the flavor so intensely he bit his tongue, Wang Yang was lecturing on the Book of Documents...

While little A Wu stood on a stool, stacking the remaining preserved fish into a pottery jar, Wang Yang was still lecturing on the Book of Documents...

The night grew still, the wine spent. Liu Zhao, fired with passion, slammed his hand on the table: “Such a groundbreaking insight, so beneficial to scholarship—it would be a crime not to write it down! Bring ink and brush! Zhiyan, speak—I’ll write. The title should be...”

Wang Yang said, “How about ‘Pointing Out Flaws in the Book of Documents’?”

The Book of Documents contains errors, like a slight blemish on pure jade—“pointing out flaws” means identifying imperfections.

“That title is inappropriate!” Liu Zhao immediately corrected. “The Book of Documents itself has no flaws, and cannot have any. The flaws lie in later transmitted versions. So it cannot be called ‘Pointing Out Flaws in the Book of Documents’—it must be called ‘Pointing Out Flaws in the Present and Ancient Texts of the Book of Documents.’”

Master Liu is steady indeed!

Perfect.

Wang Yang readily agreed: “Very well—then it shall be called ‘Pointing Out Flaws in the Present and Ancient Texts of the Book of Documents’!”