Chapter 34

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Protagonist:

Song Miao

Duan Fuzi regarded it with half-belief, half-doubt, set down the goat-hair brush in his hand, took the essay, and said, "First thing in the morning, you couldn't be still half-asleep — you're not playing a trick on me, are you?"

You see, Taixue students are divided into Outer, Inner, and Upper Dormitories, judged solely on grades, but the Masters responsible for teaching are not divided so clearly.

Those who teach the Outer Dormitory also teach the Inner Dormitory, and those who teach the Inner Dormitory may also be teaching the Upper Dormitory.

Then there are those with luck both good and bad, assigned to teach Guozixue — Guozixue students are the hardest to teach, not because their aptitude is poor, but because many rely on the fact that they can obtain office through hereditary privilege in the future, and simply can't be bothered to heed the Masters' instruction.

Think about it: any random elder from a Guozixue student's family might well be a high-ranking official wearing vermilion or purple, commanding wind and rain; compared to these Masters who teach day in and day out, the contrast is stark indeed.

However much the officials' sons may pay lip service to respecting teachers, how could their hearts not hold their own calculations?

Taixue is much easier to teach; the students are the most obedient.

But the students are selected from prefectures and counties across the land, so their quality naturally varies.

One major exam a year, one evaluation a month — those with true ability have long since risen to the Upper Dormitory; even those slightly inferior can reach the Inner Dormitory. Those stuck in the Outer Dormitory, comparatively speaking, are inferior by a wide margin.

Duan Fuzi and the colleague beside him teach several of the same study halls for Outer and Inner Dormitories; though the curriculum pace is the same, every time they collect assignments, the quality is simply worlds apart.

The past two days they graded Inner Dormitory students — the essays always had one or two redeeming points, and grading them didn't feel arduous.

But starting last night, it was finally the Outer Dormitory essays' turn; though not utterly incoherent — anyone who tests into Taixue outperforms ordinary scholars — in the eyes of these veterans accustomed to fine work, they were truly unsightly.

The two men's seats were adjacent; as they graded, they exchanged sighs back and forth.

Duan Fuzi even felt that every time he finished grading Outer Dormitory assignments, his wrinkles grew a few more — no other reason: frown long enough, the flesh near the brows sets in that shape, and one assumes one was born to be wrinkled.

Because it went on like this, over time he had formed a prejudice against Outer Dormitory students' level; at this moment he even felt the other party was about to feed him a deadly poison of an essay.

"You look first, you look first, what are you droning on for!"

The visitor urged.

Duan Fuzi hesitated, first glancing at the student's name on the far right.

"It's Cheng Zijian..."

He felt a slight strangeness in his heart.

This student left a deep impression on him.

Poor family, very hardworking, decent memory — only pity, he lacked literary qi.

Literary qi is a mysterious, profoundly mysterious gift, especially in policy essays.

The same content, the same viewpoint — some write it flat and bland, only making one feel the essay wastes brush and ink, fit only to be burned for kindling; others write it and it's good, convincing, making one feel every word is eminently reasonable, as if not listening would defy heaven's principle.

Cheng Zijian's classics exegesis wasn't bad; the deficiency lay in policy essays.

The hallmark of his essays was flatness.

Written with great effort, many words, but after reading, it seemed nothing had been read at all, making one yawn repeatedly.

Encountering this kind of student, Duan Fuzi had a headache.

If there were both strengths and weaknesses, he could have them play to strengths and avoid weaknesses, but Cheng Zijian's essays had neither merit nor fault — fundamentally no way to improve.

Yet he was precisely so ambitious, so diligent.

Watching this person fail the assessments two years running, this was the third year; if he failed again he would be sent back to his native place, yet his essays still showed no improvement — these Masters also felt pained.

A few days ago, he truly couldn't bear to watch, and took this person to Chen Fuzi, asking the other to give some guidance.

Chen Fuzi had served as Classics Lecturer to two successive Emperors; he was advanced in years, his health not good, and had long since retired, but the current Grand Secretary of the Imperial Academy Deng Cong was his fellow disciple, and repeatedly invited him with great sincerity.

Chen Fuzi could not decline, agreed, and only occasionally taught Inner Dormitory students; even during his lectures, many Masters would come to audit.

His learning was profound, his temper good — a rare old good man.

Duan Fuzi still had his own classes; he brought the man over and left, didn't linger, so naturally didn't know the follow-up, only knew that Cheng Zijian the next day secretly sent some dried white lotus from his hometown as thanks, wouldn't even leave his name, and thereafter studied day and night even more bitterly.

But all told, it was only a few days — could there really be such great progress?

Carrying suspicion, he began reading the essay in hand.

The topic was ordinary, but just reading the opening, Duan Fuzi couldn't help but exclaim "Huh?" and say, "Strange."

The Master opposite couldn't help laughing, just stroking his beard repeatedly, watching Duan Fuzi's facial expression as he stroked, like waiting to watch a play.

And Duan Fuzi, after saying "Strange" twice, suddenly shut his mouth and continued reading on.

The essay was good, written smoothly; rare was that it was actually persuasive.

He read it in one breath; after finishing, he couldn't help nodding in agreement with its viewpoints.

But after nodding, however he thought about it he felt it strange, and turned back to examine the essay carefully once more, then without a word went to the cabinet and took out the previous batch of collected student essays not yet returned, found Cheng Zijian's, and placed the two side by side for comparison.

The literary style, the wording — none had changed; the essay was indeed from the same hand, but the before-and-after level was simply worlds apart.

"How can this be! The improvement is too great!"

But when he examined closely a third time, he had already detected the change.

It wasn't that nothing had changed; in fact much had changed — the order of exposition was altered, the method of argumentation was altered; the writing now became very sincere, very plain, making one feel that even if the arguments had some gaps, they need not be excessively blamed.

"How was this done!"

Duan Fuzi couldn't help but marvel.

His two brows knitted deeply again, this time they could pinch a fly to death.

The Master opposite laughed heartily, saying, "Look at your foolish appearance; normally you always say you teach students better than me — finally ran into one you can't figure out either!"

Duan Fuzi had no leisure to banter with him, rose and went out the door, waited a while by the main road, casually grabbed a passing student, and instructed, "Go to Outer Dormitory Ding Study Hall for me, quickly summon that Cheng Zijian!"

Cheng Zijian arrived very quickly.

He held an empty food box in his hand, and before he could even enter the study hall, he was caught by the student who came rushing out to meet him.

"Duan Fuzi is calling for you, very urgent!" The other person, carrying the typical mutual exchange among classmates, kindly reminded, "I saw his complexion didn't look good, you go quickly, don't delay!"

Cheng Zijian was anxious in his heart, not even putting down the food box, and quickly ran to the Teaching Hall.

As soon as he entered the door, the two Fuzi were sitting in their seats, both holding articles—those articles looked somewhat familiar, eh, how did they seem to all be his own?

He became even more uneasy in his heart, hurriedly walked forward a few steps, and first returned the salute and greeted them.

"Zijian has come." Duan Fuzi was instead very amiable, not showing the slightest bit of "complexion not looking good," and said, "I read your newly written article, it's written quite well, quite some progress—how did Chen Fuzi teach you?"

When he spoke the first few sentences, he was still calm and composed, but just after finishing the praise, before his voice even fell, he couldn't help but shift his chair closer, and then urgently asked again.

Cheng Zijian hadn't been happy for long before hearing such a question, and was stunned at once, asking, "What Chen Fuzi?"

"This child, why do you keep acting foolish—your article has improved, isn't it taught by Chen Fuzi?"

Cheng Zijian then reacted, let out an "ah," and said, "Thank you, Fuzi, for your favor. Chen Fuzi showed the article to the student, only saying that ice three feet thick does not freeze in a single day, telling me to read and write more, and specially recommended a Neishe Sheng for me to borrow his articles as reference."

"Just read the article?"

"Which Neishe Sheng?"

Duan Fuzi and the Fuzi beside him both found it unbelievable, almost simultaneously voicing different questions.

"No, no!" Cheng Zijian waved his hands repeatedly, "Still needs revision, still needs writing—Chen Fuzi kindly recommended Cai Xiu, but Young Master Cai said his articles had already been lent out, and it would take a while to get them back. In the end, I borrowed Han Li's manuscript from Brother Han; he helped me set questions and revise my articles. These past few days, it's been revised many times, and he also assigned me some homework..."

As he spoke, he also felt somewhat embarrassed, saying, "Sir praised that my article improved this time, but the student actually took a shortcut—this topic was just given to me by Brother Han recently, and I revised it twice before completing it; it's not my true level."

Whether Cai Xiu or Han Li, in Taixue, everyone naturally knew them, no one was unaware.

The two Duan Fuzi looked at each other, never expecting this student to have such an encounter.

Although he couldn't understand the reason, Duan Fuzi still made a quick decision, saying, "He set questions for you, and even revised your articles? You still have his manuscripts? Bring them all for me to see!"

After obtaining several versions of Cheng Zijian's manuscripts, which also had Han Li's annotations, as well as his own articles, Duan Fuzi set a topic, and didn't ask that Cheng Zijian return to class, but only let him sit in the partition, and immediately write an article according to his newly set topic.

Separating Cheng Zijian, the two Fuzi put their heads together, studying those many articles and annotations for a long while, both somewhat speechless.

After a long while, it was Duan Fuzi who first sighed deeply, saying, "It's one thing that an article can't beat a student, but how can a Fuzi not even match him!"

The other person was more open-minded, saying, "What's there to compare? Even the many Imperial Censors on Wushi Tai can't out-argue him; students teaching students would naturally know better how to teach—since there's such a good thing, why not invite him over to show the others? It wouldn't be right to favor one and slight another."

Duan Fuzi also very much agreed.

So after Cheng Zijian finished writing his article, the two looked at it; although it was much worse than the previous one, compared to before, the improvement was truly great—such progress made them put down a heart that had truly been moved.

The two didn't delay, taking Cheng Zijian together to find Chen Fuzi.

Chen Fuzi was slowly drinking tea and correcting articles; seeing the three knock on the door and enter, he was somewhat surprised.

Duan Fuzi stepped forward first, not daring to immediately make a request, but first praised Cheng Zijian's progress once, and also praised Chen Fuzi: "Zijian's progress today is largely thanks to your recommendation, sir! Students helping each other is indeed far more useful than us old fogies."

Chen Fuzi couldn't help but stroke his beard, smiling, "What does this have to do with me? I merely said hello to that Cai Xiu; you should go thank him directly."

Duan Fuzi was stunned, only then realizing he hadn't explained clearly, and hurriedly said, "Not Cai Xiu, but Han Li; Zijian borrowed Han Li's articles, and had him help revise and teach..."

Chen Fuzi raised his head, his gaze somewhat bewildered for a moment, saying, "Who?"

Hearing Duan Fuzi and the others confirm repeatedly that it was Han Li, he laughed heartily, saying, "You must be mistaken; Zheng Yan's nature hates trouble the most; I often ask him to help organize manuscripts, but he always makes excuses; Deng Cong asked him to write model essays, but he never budged—how could he be so agreeable..."

However, when the article full of annotations was finally brought before him, he looked again and again; seeing the handwriting and tone were so familiar, it was clearly written by that Han Li Han Zhengyan; he could no longer deceive himself, yet couldn't help but ask, "What tricks did you try to coax him into being so obedient?"

For a moment, both Duan Fuzi looked at Cheng Zijian.

Seeing the two men's movements, Chen Fuzi also followed their gaze.

Cheng Zijian, stared at fixedly by the three old Fuzi, couldn't help but shrink back; fortunately, he didn't retreat, and could only say softly, "It's nothing, just... maybe Brother Han saw that I was truly pitiful, and also saw that I was truly diligent—Right! Right! I bought glutinous rice and shaomai from the Song Stall owner every day for Brother Han's breakfast... I suppose that breakfast was truly delicious..."

He said "truly" three times in a row, each more far-fetched than the last; naturally, none of the three people in the hall believed a word.

Especially Chen Fuzi; the suspicion in his eyes was practically a sharp sword, stabbing into Cheng Zijian's mouth to seal that lying mouth shut.

Cheng Zijian was frantic; suddenly remembering something, he hurriedly said, "Today there is also glutinous rice and shaomai; the student will send a portion over; the gentlemen can taste it and know the truth."

After speaking, he gave a salute, turned, and left the Teaching Hall, nearly losing his shoes in his run; not long after, he indeed returned to the Xue Zhai. Upon asking around, over thirty sets of breakfast had already been eaten cleanly by more than twenty people, not a single grain of rice left; even the soup pot looked as if it had been washed—where was there any glutinous rice or shaomai?

Fortunately, there was still stock—he had no choice but to hurriedly send over the portion of breakfast originally meant for He Qi.

The three Fuzi first thought it absurd, but when they opened the food box and smelled the aroma inside, though they had been very disdainful, at this moment they all simultaneously had the urge to investigate.

Having delayed for a while, going back and forth, the glutinous rice and shaomai had already cooled slightly, and the taste was naturally not as good as when just out of the pot; but once in their mouths, it still made them nod involuntarily.

Duan Fuzi and the other had originally thought to respect their elders, but as they ate, how could one set of breakfast be enough for three people?

"Sir, glutinous food fills the stomach; you are old, your stomach and intestines can't take it; you'd better eat less..."

Duan Fuzi was half out of kindness, half out of selfishness, wanting to move the glutinous rice that Chen Fuzi was guarding in front of him as he tasted it.

"Don't move, don't move!" Chen Fuzi was so anxious his beard blew up; "My teeth are bad, this is just right for me!"

"And that... that shaomai, leave some for me too!" Chen Fuzi guarded this one, but didn't forget to seize that one; after seizing it, his tone turned somewhat fierce, "Let me taste what that rascal Zheng Yan usually eats—he always said he didn't eat well, it was all a lie; he eats so well, yet doesn't even think of me!"

Only Cheng Zijian was left standing to one side, truly trembling.

First, he worried whether he would bring trouble to Brother Han; second, he was anxious—if he delayed too long here, what if he couldn't get the lunch sent by Song Xiaoniangzi in time?