Master Duan’s real name was Duan Zhishu, courtesy name Huanzhi.
He had a past connection with Lord Xu, Xu Zhiyi.
When Xu was young, he and Master Duan had been classmates. They came from the same hometown and both had the character “Zhi” (知) in their names, which brought them together. Later, they both enrolled in Bailudong Academy, where they got along extremely well. Since they shared a dormitory, they spent a lot of time together, and their friendship deepened.
One holiday, Duan Zhishu did not return home. Taking advantage of the clear autumn skies and the brilliant red maple leaves, he planned to climb the mountain alone for inspiration and observation.
By nightfall, Xu Zhiyi returned to the academy and realized his friend had not come back.
As the night grew late, Xu remembered that his friend had mentioned going to the back mountain to view the maples that morning. Growing increasingly anxious, fearing something had gone wrong, Xu immediately gathered a few classmates, lit lanterns and torches, and went to search the back mountain.
They called out along the stone steps but received no response. Fortunately, Xu’s sharp eyes caught sight of Duan Zhishu, unconscious, in a steep ravine.
The classmates took turns carrying the injured Duan back to the academy and summoned a doctor. Duan Zhishu narrowly survived but suffered paralysis in both legs, losing all sensation.
Duan Zhishu had once topped the academy examinations—at the height of his talent and ambition—but now, struck by misfortune, he was full of regret and anger, and his temperament changed dramatically.
Naturally, his path to officialdom through the imperial exams was cut off.
Years later, Xu Zhiyi, having achieved official rank and assigned to Taicang Prefecture, returned home for a family ritual. He heard that his former friend was bedridden, impoverished, and unattended. Remembering their old friendship and knowing Duan Zhishu’s talent—once superior even to himself—he went to visit and persuaded him:
“Brother Duan, you know my family background is humble. If you are willing to come with me, I cannot promise much, but you will have three meals a day, books and writing materials—you will lack nothing in that regard.”
Duan Zhishu, tearful, replied, “I am a cripple. What merit is there for you, Brother Xu, to go to such trouble for me?”
“I only wish for you to return to your studies,” Xu said.
Later, as Xu’s sons Xu Wang and Xu Zhan were born, Xu, busy with official duties, entrusted Duan Zhishu to teach them, dedicating himself fully.
As everyone knew, Xu Wang later became a second-degree Jinshi and entered the court as an official, while Xu Zhan passed the provincial exam, soon to take the metropolitan and palace exams.
Now, with the birth of Xu’s grandchildren, Xu Yancheng and Xu Yanggui, they too would be taught by Master Duan.
The friendship between classmates had become a celebrated story.
The next day, the Huai and Jin brothers were brought to the Xu residence by Xu Zhan to meet Master Duan in his study. This was also a test.
“Brother-in-law, what will the master test us on?” asked Jin, showing more nervousness than his older brother.
Xu Zhan stopped, crouched slightly, and said to his young brothers-in-law: “Master Duan never follows a fixed pattern, nor are there predetermined answers. Just remember one thing: whatever he asks you to do, do it properly. Don’t try to be clever or play tricks.”
The two brothers nodded seriously.
At the study door, Xu Zhan knocked and called out: “Uncle Duan, it’s me, Qianli.” (Qianli being Xu Zhan’s courtesy name, meaning “thousands of miles,” symbolizing vision and insight.)
“And these two young scholars have come.”
A slightly dull voice inside replied: “Bring them in.”
Inside, Master Duan sat in a wheelchair, back to them. He was very thin, over forty, with strands of white in his black hair. His jade-colored robes were perfectly arranged, without a wrinkle. Even in a wheelchair, he maintained impeccable appearance.
The Huai and Jin brothers knelt: “We pay respects, Master.”
“You’ve already expressed your intentions to me yesterday,” Master Duan said, still not turning. “Outside the study is a large ink-washing jar. Use it to dip water and write. Only when this jar is emptied can you begin your studies with me.”
No questions were asked; no chance to speak was given—just his requirement.
Indeed, he was eccentric.
The brothers exchanged glances. They understood that with Master Duan’s abilities, such peculiar demands were normal. But how were they to “write water” with a brush? Remembering Xu Zhan’s warning, they did not ask aloud and respectfully bowed: “We understand.”
Master Duan waved them to start.
Xu Zhan led them to a pavilion, where a huge white porcelain jar, stained with gray from frequent ink washes, stood. After a sudden rain the night before, it was filled with water, rippling gently in the breeze.
Two smooth marble slabs, shaped like desks and the right height for writing, were also prepared.
Xu Zhan demonstrated with a small bowl and brush, dipping water from the jar and writing on the stone. As the water dried, the blank space appeared again, and he continued—a “book without words.”
“Do you understand?” Xu asked.
“Yes,” the brothers answered.
“Do you understand what Master Duan expects?” Xu reminded.
“Yes. We must empty the jar properly before becoming his students. Brother-in-law, focus on your own work, you needn’t watch us constantly.”
Xu Zhan smiled in approval.
A jar this size would take at least a month to empty. The brothers settled at the stone desks, focused, and wrote carefully, soon sweating slightly from the effort.
As the sun set and shadows lengthened, they finally stopped and poured the unfinished water back into the jar, returning home afterward.
At home, they reported the day’s events to their father.
Their grandmother fretted: “If he would not accept you, he should have said so! Why make such a difficult demand, forcing the children to suffer daily?”
“Mother, Master Duan is a scholar; this request is minor. Besides, they are old enough. If they don’t endure hardship now, life will give them even greater challenges. Even precious jade must be finely polished to become flawless,” explained their father.
He instructed that the brothers be sent to Master Duan daily, on time, and that no one should intercede on their behalf.
Thus, the Huai and Jin brothers commuted daily, suffering on the stone desks but growing steadily in knowledge.
Master Duan, eccentric as ever, never looked through the window to see them, focused only on his books.
After more than a month, the old servant Adu reported: “Master, the jar is nearly empty.”
Master Duan calculated—over forty days had passed. He asked, “Did their family plead for them? Did they complain?”
“No, sir.”
“Did they misuse the brush or spill water?”
“No. All leftover water was returned properly.”
Master Duan nodded, then asked about the content of their writing. Adu replied: “They first copied the Analects and Mencius, then later the Great Learning and Doctrine of the Mean, also copying poetry for practice.”
Master Duan smiled faintly. “You speak more than usual, Adu.”
Adu answered, “Merely reporting what I saw.”
“Go tell Qianli: I accept these students. Set two seats next to Yancheng.”
Though seemingly casual, every question Master Duan asked was purposeful: he disliked interference from elders, disliked students who sought shortcuts, and valued steady progress over speed. The brothers’ forty days of work met his expectations.
Soon, Xu Zhan arrived, congratulating: “Congratulations, Master Duan, on gaining two fine students.”
Master Duan was surprised to learn the connection: Xu Zhan’s brothers-in-law were now his students.
News reached the family at the Count’s mansion. Lin immediately sent word to the National University so the eldest son would not worry about the children’s studies.
Huai and Jin officially entered Xu residence, studying with Master Duan alongside Xu Yancheng, Xu’s eight-year-old eldest grandson.
On the first day, Xu Yancheng eagerly introduced Master Duan’s recent teachings. The three boys bonded quickly, joking together.
Master Duan, though normally stern and serious, became animated and engaging in class, connecting texts to real-life examples, guiding the boys deeply into the material.
After ten days, he assessed each boy individually, assigning lessons according to talent and temperament. Huai focused on memorization, Jin on analyzing character meanings, and Xu Yancheng on completing the other two’s assignments.
Although writing and memorizing classical texts was tedious and sometimes obscure, Huai applied himself wholeheartedly, learning more each day.
The Count’s mansion remained peaceful, but Huai kept an eye on a troublesome scholar who had deceived his second sister. He worried about potential consequences but could only take things step by step.
Whenever the twenty-four solar terms occurred, Master Duan gave the boys time off, explaining the scholarly significance behind each season.
On the day of Cold Dew, Huai had just finished breakfast when a servant brought a visiting card: the second son of the Situ family, Situ Yang, wanted to discuss learning.
It was the same drunken young master he had met at the theater.
“Master, he’s here again. What should we do?”
“Prepare to receive him,” Huai replied, rubbing his temples. “I cannot forbid his visit; next time, have him come when I’m away.”
Situ Yang, rough and reckless, came ostensibly to discuss learning but actually sought his sister, Lan. Huai warned him that she would not appear in his courtyard. Situ Yang, slightly embarrassed, claimed he only wished to see the courtyard arrangements.
The two conversed briefly before Situ Yang left. Lin arrived soon after, immediately aware of the situation. She expressed concern over Lan marrying such a household, given their background