Chapter 151: The Analects Farce of the Three Elders

At first light, Zhao Jianguo carried a Blackboard out of the house. He set the Blackboard on the empty space in the Central Courtyard, then pulled a stack of oil‑printed Mathematics Fundamentals Hundred‑Question Refined from a cardboard box and neatly arranged them on the small wooden table beside it. The lingering heat in the Courtyard from last night hadn't dissipated, and many people had risen before dawn, leaning on the windows to watch the commotion.

He was bent over checking whether any questions were smudged when a sudden "cough cough" clearing of the throat sounded behind him. Looking up, San Daye shuffled over, leaning on an old cane, his arms tightly hugging a yellowed, curled‑cornered book as if fearing someone would snatch it.

"Jianguo," San Daye said, stopping, his tone steady as if reciting a eulogy, "Your class is a good thing, but focusing only on math, physics, chemistry without valuing literary heritage is abandoning the root for the twig."

Zhao Jianguo smiled, said nothing, and simply used a clip to pin a review schedule onto the edge of the Blackboard.

Seeing him remain unfazed, San Daye stepped forward and raised the book high: "The Analects in my hand is a family heirloom! My grandfather's generation passed the imperial examination as a Juren! Though later times changed, our family's scholarly roots never broke. In language studies, no one knows it better than I—characters must be correct, sentences smooth, meanings profound!"

A lady hanging laundry nearby peeked in and muttered softly, "It's really a thread‑bound edition… looks quite old."

"Exactly!" San Daye said, his back straightening at the applause, "Now you teach children, opening their mouths with 'subject‑verb‑object', closing them with 'rhetorical techniques'—how does that compare to our times? Memorizing a passage from The Learning beats doing ten new problem sets!"

Zhao Jianguo finally looked up and nodded, "You speak earnestly. How about this—since you're so versed in language, why not recite a passage here? Let everyone hear what real skill is."

San Daye raised an eyebrow, "You're testing me?"

"It's not a test, it's learning," Zhao Jianguo said calmly, "Pick any passage, explain its meaning to us, and let the children broaden their horizons."

As soon as he spoke, the onlookers gradually gathered. A few elderly men who had been squatting at the doorway brushing their teeth set down their toothbrushes and leaned in to listen.

San Daye cleared his throat, opened the book, and, shaking his head, began to read: "The Master said: 'To study and practice at due times, is that not a pleasure? When friends come from afar, is that not a joy? When others do not understand you yet you do not resent, is that not a gentleman?'"

He paused deliberately after finishing, waiting for applause. Unfortunately no one clapped; only a chicken from the house next door gave a single cluck.

Unperturbed, he continued, "What does this passage mean? It says that studying requires repeated memorization, daily practice. If you can't recite it today, keep at it tomorrow; eventually you'll have an insight. Be glad when friends arrive, and don't get angry if no one understands you—this is the true demeanor of a scholar!"

Zhao Jianguo listened, gave a light nod, "That's the principle indeed. But San Daye, today's Gaokao Chinese Language test doesn't ask whether you can recite, but whether you can answer the questions correctly."

"Hmph, what else could it be?" San Daye waved his hand disdainfully, "It's nothing more than copying a few ancient sentences and writing an essay."

Zhao Jianguo offered no argument, turned, and pulled a sheet from his lesson‑plan folder, pinning it to the Blackboard, "Then I'll ask you a Gaokao Real Questions from last year; give everyone a try."

The paper bore a multiple‑choice question, the handwriting clear:

**Among the following four statements, which one was not said by Mr. Lu Xun? **

A. Actually, there was no road on the ground; when many people walk it, it becomes a road.

B. With furrowed brows I coldly face a thousand pointing fingers, and bow my head, gladly becoming a cow for the children.

C. Either erupt in silence, or perish within silence.

D. There is no savior in the world; one must liberate oneself.

San Daye squinted, leaned in for a long look, then suddenly slapped his thigh, "Do we need to think? It's B! 'With furrowed brows I coldly face a thousand pointing fingers'—that style screams Lu Xun! Absolutely correct!"

Someone in the crowd nodded along, feeling the statement carried authority.

Zhao Jianguo looked at him and said slowly, "Correct. But the problem with this question is—it isn't in the options."

The whole venue fell silent.

"What?" San Daye was stunned.

"The line you mentioned, 'With furrowed brows I coldly face a thousand pointing fingers,' does indeed come from Lu Xun," Zhao Jianguo said, pointing to the test paper, "but it never appears among these four options. So just now, you effectively answered a non‑existent question."

San Daye's face flushed red, "You… you're cheating! The question wasn't fully listed; how could anyone answer it?"

"The question is fully listed," Zhao Jianguo said, tone unchanged, "Exams work like that; they won't add a line just because you think it should appear. A is from Hometown, C is from In Memory of Liu Hezhen, D is a folk‑song slogan, not Lu Xun at all. The correct answer is D."

He paused, scanning the crowd, "Gaokao doesn't test feeling, nor whose voice is louder. It tests source citations, logical judgment, information matching. Your 'answer by impression' method would score zero on the exam."

The Courtyard was quiet for a few seconds, then buzzed with discussion.

"Indeed… I was almost led into a trap."

"It all sounds like Lu Xun; how can anyone tell the difference?"

"Zhao Jianguo, that question was ruthless."

San Daye's beard trembled with anger, his cane striking the ground twice, "You are deliberately …"

"I never said you were useless," Zhao Jianguo said, folding the test paper, "I said teaching Gaokao must follow Gaokao's rules. Whoever can raise students' scores gets to stand at the podium. It's not about seniority or age."

San Daye was about to argue when his grandson burst out of the house, clutching half a pencil, shouting, "Grandpa! The 'abandon' you mentioned yesterday, is that the word 'gai‑shi' that Teacher Zhao taught?"

San Daye was startled, "What 'gai‑shi'?"

"Abandon!" the child corrected loudly, "Teacher Zhao wrote it on the Blackboard and said it's a must‑memorize word in the first English lesson!"

San Daye opened his mouth but said nothing. The child didn't wait for a reply, hopping to the Blackboard and standing on tiptoe to look at the printed question.

San Daye stood still, the Analects in his hand slowly lowering. He glanced at the cover, then looked up at the Blackboard labeled 'Mathematics Hundred‑Question Refined', moved his lips, and finally flicked his sleeve, "Do whatever you like! I'm out of this!"

He turned and left; though his steps were quick, he stumbled at the threshold, catching himself on the doorframe.

Zhao Jianguo didn't stop him; he simply took the real question off the Blackboard, folded it, and slipped it into his lesson‑plan folder. He turned to the few people gathered around the table, "The Chinese Language group will hold a trial lecture at 2 p. m. this afternoon; anyone interested can try. There's only one standard—being able to help students score points."

Some nodded, some hesitated, and some quietly pulled out a small notebook, beginning to copy the review schedule from the Blackboard.

Zhao Jianguo was about to lay out the remaining materials when he suddenly saw San Daye turn back, standing at the Courtyard Gate, gazing from afar at the children copying the questions. His mouth was a thin line, his face unreadable, yet his right hand subconsciously brushed the book in his chest.

At that moment, a child raised his hand and asked, "Teacher Zhao, what does 'Zi says' mean?"

Zhao Jianguo smiled, "It means—Confucius said. But the Gaokao won't ask you that directly; it will ask which text the sentence comes from, what idea it expresses, and how to compare it with modern prose."

The child scratched his head, "Oh… then I'll just memorize 'abandon' first."

Everyone burst into laughter.

Zhao Jianguo was about to speak when, from the corner of his eye, he saw San Daye quietly slip the Analects into the cabinet behind the door. He said nothing, bent down, opened another cardboard box, and took out a stack of fresh printed sheets.

A wind blew in from the east side of the Courtyard, lifting the corners of the papers.