Only then did everyone remember that making such a racket in the middle of the street was a bad look.
Li Shanchang led the assembled generals away. Chang Yuchun had his men carry off the tightly bound Lan Yu, who looked like a zongzi. Chen Biao stubbornly refused to stay in Chen Wenzheng’s arms and left cradled by Li Bao’er.
As for the proposal to have Chen Biao teach the children of Yingtian’s officials and generals, they first had to obtain Madam Ma’s approval and write to inform Marshal Zhu before anything could happen. Li Shanchang was already composing the wording in his head, trying to figure out how to persuade both the Marshal and Madam Ma.
As for whether it would tire Chen Biao out, Li Shanchang, having been squeezed dry himself for years, knew perfectly well how to squeeze others while ensuring Chen Biao could remain a carefree little teacher who only needed to point and give instructions.
Chen Biao, however, still thought the adults were joking. All he could think about was hurrying home to complain to his mother, and he silently resolved never to let Chen Wenzheng eat anything delicious he made again.
As the excitement died down, the scholars in the restaurant and teahouse settled their bills. By coincidence, they came out at the same time and met at the entrance.
Ye Chen looked surprised.
“Cousin?”
Ye Zheng was equally startled and cupped his hands.
“Jingyuan, what are you doing here?”
Wang Yi, the most outgoing among them, immediately spoke up as though they were already old friends.
“Brother Jingyuan, a relative of yours?”
Ye Chen hesitated, wondering whether he should reveal his cousin’s identity.
Ye Zheng sensed something and took the initiative.
“I heard the Chen family opened a new opera house in Yingtian. The performances are supposed to be quite interesting. Shall we go together?”
Ye Chen glanced at his companions.
The eldest, Song Lian, nodded.
“We were planning to take a look ourselves.”
They did not introduce themselves in the street. Only after they reached the bustling opera house and entered a private room on the second floor did they begin exchanging introductions.
On Ye Zheng’s side stood the genuine heirs of the School of Practical Learning.
On Ye Chen’s side stood the genuine heirs of Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism.
Both groups stared at one another in awkward silence.
Ye Chen coughed lightly to ease the atmosphere.
“In truth, I’ve also studied the School of Practical Learning. No school of thought is inherently good or bad. Only by learning from one another’s strengths can we truly improve.”
Song Lian nodded.
“I also study the School of Institutional Governance.”
Wang Yi smiled.
“I know a little of everything. Broad, but not profound. I hope Brother Ye won’t laugh at me.”
Ye Zheng stroked his beard.
He understood.
These were fellow travelers wearing the skin of Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism.
Back when the Eastern Zhejiang School was flourishing, its own branches had fought one another fiercely.
For example, the Jinhua School accused the Yongjia and Yongkang Schools of “valuing profit over righteousness,” while the Yongjia and Yongkang Schools mocked the Jinhua School as “peacemakers with no convictions.”
But now Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism dominated the intellectual world. The Jinhua, Yongjia, and Yongkang Schools had all become rats hiding in the gutters. There was no point fighting among themselves anymore.
So they exchanged formal greetings once more, carefully explaining their respective lineages and areas of expertise. Setting aside their differences, they focused solely on Practical Learning and began discussing scholarship.
After an exchange that started with words, escalated to flying spit, and finally progressed to rolled-up sleeves and exchanged punches, they straightened their robes, picked up their teacups, toasted one another with tea instead of wine, and reluctantly acknowledged each other’s worth.
The scholars of the early and middle Ming possessed an astonishing amount of martial spirit. They frequently fought one another in court, sometimes beating people to death.
The scholars living during the final years of the Yuan possessed even more martial spirit. Those who lacked it had long since died in the chaos.
As the eldest, Ye Zheng spoke first.
“These past few days happen to coincide with the festival market. Yingtian is bustling beyond belief. It feels almost like an age of peace.”
Song Lian added, “I’ve heard that Yingtian’s current prosperity is largely the work of the Chen family. Even more admirable is that they never claim the credit. Everywhere they go, they say they are merely conducting business on Zhu Yuanzhang’s behalf. Not only do they pay enormous commercial taxes to him, they also spend their own money repairing Yingtian’s city walls in Zhu Yuanzhang’s name and supporting widows, orphans, the elderly, and the infirm.”
Ye Chen smiled.
“When I was serving in the Yuan army, I heard the Yuan court had offered a reward of a thousand taels of gold for the head of Chen Guorui, the head of the Chen family. I’d thought his mysterious reputation was merely for show. But after seeing how intelligent his child is today, I can say with certainty that the man himself is anything but ordinary.”
Wang Yi idly spun the lid of his teacup.
“Why is everyone talking about the Chen family? I found those generals much more interesting. I’d long heard that Chang Yuchun was brutal and that his army often killed innocent civilians to inflate military achievements.”
He paused before sneering.
“But compared to the other warlords, that’s a trivial matter. Plenty of them do it far more often, so I wouldn’t despise Zhu Yuanzhang for that alone. What surprised me was that someone in Zhu Yuanzhang’s army was actually willing to confront Chang Yuchun directly when his brother-in-law oppressed the common people.”
Ye Chen laughed again.
“Wang Zichong, what truly surprised you was that Li Shanchang—Li Baishi—the man other famous scholars speak so poorly of, turned out to act so unexpectedly.”
Setting down his cup lid, Wang Yi shook his head with a smile.
“That’s true enough. The way he… Hahaha! That blow was incredibly satisfying.”
Ye Zheng said, “Wasn’t the most surprising thing their plan to have a five-year-old child teach the generals’ sons?”
Everyone looked at one another before simultaneously covering their foreheads and bursting into laughter.
Chen Qi, Chen Lin, and Xue Zhimo were Ye Zheng’s disciples. In an occasion like this, they could only sit quietly at the side, yet even they had to cover their mouths as their shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
After laughing for a long time, they wiped away the tears from the corners of their eyes.
No one knew who stopped laughing first, but eventually the laughter faded into soft sighs. Accompanied by the opera singing below and the audience’s continuous applause, those sighs seemed especially heavy.
Staring into his teacup, Song Lian said quietly, “My family was poor. We couldn’t afford books, so I had to borrow them from teachers and friends, copying them by hand before I could read them. But compared with Zhu Yuanzhang’s followers, a family like mine probably couldn’t even be considered poor.”
Of course it couldn’t.
Any family that could afford a teacher, writing brushes, ink, paper, inkstones, and enough clothing to study by lamplight at night had already surpassed the overwhelming majority of people—not only during the chaos of the late Yuan, but even during the so-called prosperous eras of past dynasties.
To many great scholars, the poorest people they ever noticed were “impoverished students.”
As for people like Zhu Yuanzhang and his men, peasants who spent their lives scratching a living from the fields, facing the earth with their backs to the sky, whose entire family shared a single set of clothes whenever anyone went outside—
Under Yuan rule, people like them were not even permitted to have names.
Perhaps, in many people’s eyes, they no longer even counted as human.
Song Lian continued, “Because I suffered through the hardships of seeking an education as a child, I understand the struggles of poor students. Zhu Yuanzhang says that poor people best understand other poor people. His words may be crude, but the reasoning isn’t wrong. If he can remain true to his present convictions, he may yet become a great enlightened ruler.”
The others all nodded.
Apart from Ye Chen, who came from an official’s family, the rest were, at most, from farming-and-scholar families. In the eyes of aristocratic clans and powerful families, they all belonged to the insignificant ‘humble gentry,’ so they cared little about pedigree.
Besides, hadn’t there once been Liu Bang, an emperor who rose from common origins? Hadn’t Chen Sheng and Wu Guang proclaimed the earth-shaking words, “Are kings, nobles, generals, and ministers born that way?”
None of them looked down upon a mere “grassroots man.”
Silence lingered for a long while before Wang Yi lazily remarked, “That Li Shanchang is quite interesting. He uses force against warriors, and when no one else is available, he’s even willing to entrust work to a child. He’ll use any means necessary to achieve his goal. Could he also be a follower of Practical Learning?”
Ye Zheng’s expression turned odd.
“I don’t think he’s a follower of Practical Learning. I think Zhu Yuanzhang has simply worked the poor man to the bone.”
Everyone covered their foreheads again and laughed.
Wang Yi smiled.
“But if that five-year-old Chen Biao truly is a gifted prodigy, having him teach beginners might actually work. When I was a child, I often tutored others of my own generation in the family.”
Since they had all been child prodigies themselves and all had experience teaching their younger relatives, everyone nodded in agreement.
Some elderly scholars possessed considerable learning, yet had long forgotten what it was like to be children. Being able to study oneself did not necessarily mean one could teach children to read. Judging from Li Shanchang’s and the generals’ reactions, perhaps the boy named Chen Biao really was exceptionally good at teaching.
“But Zhu Yuanzhang has quite a few generals under him, doesn’t he? If every one of their children is handed over to a single five-year-old, the poor child will surely collapse from exhaustion.”
Ye Chen stood up first.
“I intend to visit Li Shanchang today. Are the rest of you going to think it over for another few days?”
Wang Yi rose as well.
“Think what over? We came together, so naturally we’ll go together. Right, Senior Brother?”
Song Lian nodded.
“What about you?”
Ye Zheng sighed.
“To be honest, I had planned to bring my students and get there ahead of you. After all, you’re members of the ‘Four Scholars of Eastern Zhejiang’ and the ‘Two Confucians of Eastern Zhejiang.’ Your reputations far exceed ours.”
Ye Chen, one of the Four Scholars of Eastern Zhejiang; Wang Yi, one of the Two Confucians of Eastern Zhejiang; and Song Lian, who belonged to both groups, all burst into loud laughter.
Ye Zheng and his three disciples looked at their unrestrained laughter and felt their teeth itch.
…
The moment Chen Biao returned home, he threw himself into Madam Ma’s arms and complained.
After hearing the entire story, Madam Ma laughed helplessly.
“Mr. Li was only teasing you. How could he really ask you to teach other people’s children?”
Chen Wenzheng and Li Bao’er exchanged glances.
That wasn’t necessarily true.
Both of them had studied under teachers who held the xiucai or even juren degree. Li Bao’er could more or less keep up with the lessons, but Chen Wenzheng only wanted to fall asleep.
Yet whenever Chen Biao lectured them in his sticky, childish little voice, they listened with complete attention, and their learning progressed by leaps and bounds.
Of course, this wasn’t because Chen Biao was more capable than their scholarly teachers. It was because his approach to teaching was fundamentally different.
Even though the Yuan civil examinations had been repeatedly suspended and restored, scholars who hoped to make a name for themselves still aimed toward the examinations.
So they taught students by first making them memorize the Four Books and Five Classics, then the commentaries of the ancient sages.
For these overgrown “beginning students” who couldn’t sit still, they never got past that very first step.
Chen Biao, however, taught with the perspective of someone from the future.
First, he determined why the person listening to him wanted to study.
One, to become literate, so they could read and educate themselves.
Two, to understand principles—the great truths illustrated by the classic stories contained in the classics, histories, philosophers, and literary collections.
Therefore, instead of using difficult classical prose, Chen Biao directly translated it into plain, vernacular language.
These overgrown beginners couldn’t stomach the Four Books and Five Classics, but they devoured popular storybooks with enthusiasm.
The stories found in the classics were every bit as fascinating as popular novels. Chen Biao then adapted them further, adding amusing side stories inspired by tales from the future. Even a complete roughneck like Chen Wenzheng listened with rapt attention.
Not only that, Chen Biao also had people illustrate stories from the classics as picture books and adapt them into opera scripts.
If you made a modern child listen to an idiom story in classical Chinese, they’d cry. Tell the same story in everyday language, and they’d probably find it interesting. Turn it into a picture book, and they’d happily read it themselves. Make it into an animated cartoon…
Then you’d have to stop them from secretly turning on the television.
Chen Biao had countless ways to make “children” pay attention to “stories.”
After only ten days or half a month of Chen Biao’s systematic teaching, not only Chen Wenzheng but even Li Bao’er would start yawning whenever they listened to anyone else’s lessons.
Li Shanchang knew exactly how capable Chen Biao was as a teacher.
He had often sat in on Chen Biao’s lessons for the Chen household servants, notebook in hand, filling page after page with observations.
The reason he had never asked Chen Biao to teach others before was, first, because he feared exposing the boy’s identity, and second, because he worried about overworking him.
But now…
Li Shanchang truly had no other choice.
Almost all the teachers employed by the children of Zhu Yuanzhang’s generals had fled. They couldn’t simply allow that group of arrogant young masters to spend every day wandering around causing trouble.
Grinding his teeth, Li Shanchang wrote a letter to Zhu Yuanzhang so hard that he accidentally crushed one of his brushes.
He casually tossed it aside and picked up another.
Clearly, snapping brushes in anger had become second nature to him.
“Father! Candied fruit for you. Mother gave it to me, and I saved one for you.”
A little girl skipped into the study.
Li Shanchang quickly set down his brush and lifted her into his arms.
“Second Girl, why are you out of bed? Doesn’t your foot still hurt? Stop running around.”
The little girl unfolded the handkerchief she had been carrying, picked up the candied fruit, and fed it into Li Shanchang’s mouth.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore. The doctor said I can get out of bed and walk.”
With the candied fruit still in his mouth, Li Shanchang replied sternly, “Walking doesn’t mean hopping around. Behave yourself.”
Nestling in his arms, the little girl nodded obediently.
“All right. Father, are you writing a letter?”
“Yes.”
Li Shanchang picked up his brush again.
“Don’t fidget.”
She nodded.
Holding his youngest daughter, Li Shanchang continued writing.
The little girl swung her feet gently beneath her and quietly read aloud the characters she recognized from the letter.
As Madam Li passed the doorway to the study, she peeked inside, smiled, shook her head, and continued on to change the bandages on her eldest daughter’s feet.
The physician had said that although the elder daughter’s feet could never return to how they had once been, with proper care she would at least be able to walk without pain.
Madam Li lowered her head and looked at her own bound feet.
How wonderful.
Her daughters wouldn’t have to bind theirs. In Marshal Zhu’s territory, they would still be able to find good husbands without enduring the suffering that she and her eldest daughter had endured.
Li Shanchang sent the letter along with urgent official business by fast horse to Yangzhou.
No sooner had the letter been dispatched than visitors arrived.
The names on the calling card read: Ye Chen, Song Lian, Wang Yi… and four others he did not recognize.
Holding his daughter in one arm, Li Shanchang rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was seeing things.
Impostors?
Never mind!
As long as they could read and write, they would do!
At the very least, they could help sort through documents!
Without even putting his daughter down, Li Shanchang rushed outside. He ran so quickly that one of his shoes flew off.
The gatekeepers at the Li residence knew exactly what to do. Seeing that the visitors were scholars, they ushered them inside without waiting for instructions, serving them fine tea and refreshments.
The seven scholars sitting in Li Shanchang’s reception hall were astonished to see him dash in barefoot, carrying a little girl.
Although Li Shanchang did not recognize any of them, their bearing told him they were probably genuine. He immediately stepped forward and cupped his hands in greeting.
Only while saluting did he realize he was still carrying his daughter.
The atmosphere instantly became awkward.
The little girl, however, was very sensible. She raised her tiny hands in greeting.
“Greetings, uncles.”
Flustered, Li Shanchang hurriedly set her down.
“I was holding Second Girl just now, and I got so excited that… well…”
Too embarrassed to continue, he could only keep bowing apologetically.
The seven scholars first looked at one another before quickly standing to return the greeting.
“Lord Li, please don’t mind.”
“It is our honor that Lord Li values us so highly.”
…
A servant hurried in carrying Li Shanchang’s missing shoe. After helping him put it back on, the servant scooped up the little girl and carried her away.
The eight men exchanged formal greetings once more, and the atmosphere became warm and harmonious.
At that very moment, Chen Biao burst into the room like a tiny cannonball.
The instant he crossed the doorway, he shouted,
“Uncle Li! What kind of magic potion did you feed my mother? She actually agreed to let me become some kind of little teacher… Ah? There are guests? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Li Bao’er chased after him.
“Little Brother Biao! Why are you running so fast? Don’t trip—… Huh? Uncle Li, there are guests?”
Li Bao’er and Chen Biao looked at one another, then hurriedly straightened their clothes and obediently greeted the obvious scholars.
Li Shanchang’s face instantly turned pale as he hurried forward, intending to send Chen Biao away.
But Ye Chen and Wang Yi, cousin and junior fellow disciple, silently coordinated with one another and stepped forward first, blocking Li Shanchang’s path.
Meanwhile, Ye Zheng and Song Lian, cousin and senior fellow disciple, simultaneously put on warm smiles and asked in perfect unison,
“You must be the famous child prodigy of Yingtian, Chen Biao?”
Chen Biao: “…Actually, I’m not a prodigy. I’m very stupid. Really, really stupid.”
Something feels wrong. Denying it first can’t possibly be the wrong move!
Li Bao’er: “…”
This is bad! Why am I suddenly so nervous?!
Li Shanchang: “…”
Stay calm! I have to stay calm!