Ah, finally—after so much effort, he had made his father understand what he wanted.
“Hmm, I want to know… what this is,” the little boy nodded, then added, “I want to learn to read.”
Pei’s father felt an even greater joy in his heart. He thought that his son had inherited his own nature and therefore loved books… How could one not be fond of such an intelligent and sensible child?
“I will teach you to read, Huai’er,” Pei Bingyuan said.
With that, he picked up little Huai and sat him on his lap at the desk. Unfortunately, there were no children’s primers in his study, so he had to make do with opening the Book of Songs.
By chance, it opened to the Chen Feng – Heng Men section.
Pei Shaohuai did not choose any of the complicated characters, instead pointing to the character “門” from the line “Under the Heng gate, one may linger.” “Daddy, I want to learn this one,” he said.
“This is the character ‘門,’” his father explained gently. “On the left is one household, on the right is another. When the two households come together, that forms ‘門.’ The two large red doors at the main entrance of our estate are our own ‘門.’”
Pei Bingyuan spoke slowly, worried the little boy might not understand. He lifted a hand to pick up a brush and drew the shape of a door for Huai’er.
Huai’er followed along, saying, “One household, another household, 門.”
Seeing that his son had understood, Pei Bingyuan felt a surge of pride. He praised him: “Our Huai’er is clever.” He then taught the boy a dozen more simple characters, focusing on recognition rather than complexity.
Pei Shaohuai listened earnestly—not pretending. Though he could read, he had only learned simplified characters; now facing traditional characters, he had to start over to avoid making mistakes later.
Moreover, Pei Bingyuan was knowledgeable. He explained the origin of each character, why it had its form and strokes. Listening to him was fascinating.
Before they knew it, more than an hour had passed. Pei Bingyuan, absorbed in teaching, had forgotten that he had originally intended to write.
Any onlooker would have been moved by this scene of fatherly devotion and filial affection.
One must understand—the head of the Earl’s household was famous for “devoting himself entirely to books and ignoring all else.” To interrupt him while writing would normally earn one a severe scolding, no matter how gentle his usual temperament.
After leaving his father’s study, little Pei Shaohuai recalled a story from the book:
In the original story, Pei Shaohuai and Pei Bingyuan did not get along well. As time went on, they increasingly disliked each other.
The old matriarch and Lady Lin fought over Huai’er, causing unrest in the rear household, preventing Pei Bingyuan from reading in peace. For that reason, he did not care for his son.
Later, as Huai’er grew older, he became idle and mischievous, constantly causing trouble. Pei Bingyuan, who disliked socializing, was forced to handle these matters on his son’s behalf, leaving him weary and frustrated. He increasingly felt that Pei Shaohuai was a curse sent by heaven.
When Shaohuai became a prodigal son with a bad reputation, the usually gentle Pei Bingyuan confronted his mother: “Look at the grandson you raised—what have you spoiled him into?”
The matriarch, heartbroken, replied, “You gave birth but did not raise him properly, and now you blame me?”
Pei Bingyuan, helpless, cried out to the heavens, “I only wish to read in peace—why is it so difficult? Having such a son, I fear I shall never be at peace again, and the civil exams are hopeless.” With that, he broke his brush and closed his books—a truly heartrending scene.
Now, however, this Huai’er was not that Huai’er.
Pei Shaohuai silently resolved not to let the household become chaotic as in the original story. He would not cause trouble; if his father wished to read quietly, he would honor that.
He would fulfill Pei Bingyuan’s wishes.
Whether his father would succeed in the civil examinations remained unknown to him.
The next day, Pei Bingyuan spoke to the grandparents, telling them about the miraculous event of Huai’er wanting to learn to read, and how quick-witted the boy was.
The elders were naturally pleased, though skeptical, as Huai’er was not yet a year and a half old. “Is this true?” they asked.
“It is. If you do not believe me, mother, you may ask Huai’er yourself.”
The matriarch held Huai’er and asked, “Huai’er, tell grandmother what you learned with father yesterday.”
The little boy pointed outside and said, “門, the main gate of the estate.”
Pei Bingyuan added, “Yesterday, I taught him the character ‘門.’”
The matriarch was delighted and touched, her eyes slightly moist. Praising her “good grandson,” she asked, “Does Huai’er want to read?”
The boy nodded: “Yes. Read books. Learn characters.”
“Why?”
“Because I like it.”
Children should not be too pragmatic; Pei Shaohuai could not tell his grandmother that he wanted to study for the civil exams to become an official.
Taking this opportunity, Pei Bingyuan shared his plan: “Father, mother, since Huai’er has this disposition, I think we should begin his education early, so as not to waste his talent. What do you think?”
The grandparents were pleased but cautious.
Could such a little one focus and endure the lessons? In other families, children began formal education at five or six years old, even among the wealthy; at the very least, instruction started at two or three. Huai’er was only one and a half.
The matriarch worried about pushing him too fast: “Isn’t he too young?”
Pei Bingyuan had already considered this the previous night and explained patiently: “It will not be a formal lesson. He will sleep, play, and otherwise behave as usual. When he has free time, we bring him to the study to learn a few characters, hear interesting stories, or recite poems—just for fun, laying a foundation for the future.”
So this “early education” was essentially an ancient kindergarten. Pei Shaohuai thought: they underestimate my determination to learn.
Pei Bingyuan added: “His bones are not fully developed. I will not force him to hold a brush or tire him.”
For effect, Pei Shaohuai chimed in in his babyish voice: “Study room… so many books… so fun!”
The matriarch nodded but still had concerns: “Your plan is good, but where will we find a tutor?”
In a society dominated by civil examinations, a capable tutor was not easy to hire. Scholars of talent rarely took on children unless desperate, and most preferred to pursue an official career. Even a noble family like the Peis would find a qualified tutor hard to secure.
Pei Bingyuan suggested: “Since Huai’er is young, teaching him ourselves might be better. I will teach characters; father can explain stories and poems. It will not take much time.”
The grandparents were surprised and impressed at the effort their son was willing to make.
Pei Bingyuan continued: “With two years until the next autumn exams, rather than let him idle in the study, I can spend some time teaching Huai’er.”
The grandfather gladly agreed: “That is indeed a good plan.”
Coincidentally, Aunt Shen came to pay respects with little Jin. Standing outside, she overheard everything but did not enter to interrupt.
After the conversation concluded, she had the maid inform them and then walked in with Jin.
“From afar, I heard the elders laughing. What joyful event is this? Let us join in,” she asked.
Usually, she only answered questions from the matriarch, but today she initiated the topic herself.
“We were just discussing giving Huai’er his first lessons,” the matriarch said happily. Then she noticed little Jin, realizing Shen’s subtle reference.
She picked up Jin and asked, “Jin’er, would you like to learn characters with grandfather and father?”
Jin, too young to understand, simply nodded and said in his baby voice: “Okay.”
The matriarch beamed with pride: “See, Pei family children, even so young, already know the value of learning.”
The grandfather added: “Then both brothers will learn together, supporting and helping each other.”
Pei Shaohuai, feeling a bit apologetic, ran to Jin, holding his little hand: “Brother, let’s learn together.”
He thought: little brother, I’m sorry. I only wanted to learn traditional characters for fun, never meant to pull you in… But on second thought, Jin is talented and focused; having him learn is entirely appropriate. He thought: “Little brother, if you aim to become a prodigious scholar, the earlier you start, the better. Let’s learn together and surpass all others.”
Jin obediently nodded, answering “Mm-hmm.”
By evening, when Lady Lin had some free time, Aunt Shen brought Jin to the morning dew courtyard.
After greetings, Shen explained her purpose—to thank the eldest brother. Lady Lin, unaware during the day, was told about the early lessons.
Lady Lin was pleased and surprised that her son had accomplished such a big thing. Facing Shen’s gratitude, she said: “It’s nothing. The two brothers learning together is a good thing; there’s no need to thank anyone… Their closeness ensures we won’t grow distant.”
Lady Lin had always maintained a practical attitude with Shen—both women had come into the household by chance; no need for rivalry, simply raise their own children well.
After Shen left, Lady Lin happily hugged her son, kissing him repeatedly: “My good boy.”
With obedient children, respectful stepchildren, and well-behaved concubines, life in the deep, grand estate felt increasingly hopeful.
From that day, Huai’er and Jin began learning to read.
However, their preferred “curriculum” differed. Pei Shaohuai loved his father’s lessons on characters, learning traditional forms, tracing their origins. His father even chose beautiful calligraphy books, making the learning enjoyable. Every stroke carried a charm of its own.
Little Pei Jin was slower but attentive. He enjoyed listening to his grandfather’s stories—Zengzi slaughtering a pig, borrowing arrows with straw boats, Kong Rong offering pears… Such short texts held rich tales. After each afternoon nap, Jin would rush to the study, chanting: “Hurry, hurry, grandfather will tell stories.”
Thus, the two brothers, still very young, happily read and learned characters.
By mid-May, Lady Lin brought in a dressmaker to measure the Pei daughters, claiming to prepare summer dresses.
The dressmaker measured Lady Lian most carefully.
After Lian and her sisters returned, Lady Lin went to the matriarch to explain her true purpose—measuring Lian for a special dress.
“During the coming coming-of-age ceremony, each layer of the dress has requirements—short jackets, skirts, robes, long sleeves… all must be crafted precisely. It cannot be made in a week or two. The dress should have been commissioned by Lian’s maternal aunt; but An Yuan Earl’s estate has delayed, and we cannot risk them sending shoddy dresses and embarrassing Lian. So I took the initiative to measure her and prepare a fine dress as a backup. Lian is thoughtful; I could not let her worry, so I said it was a summer dress. The shop did work for the Ministry of Revenue’s Zhang family last year; the fabrics and craftsmanship are excellent. When the dress is nearly done, I will secretly add gold thread for embellishment—surely it will look splendid.”
Finally, she asked: “What do you think, mother?”
The matriarch nodded: “You have been thorough. Keep it discreet… if An Yuan Earl’s estate sends good dresses, we cannot offend them.”
Lady Lin agreed: “Of course. In a few days, I will bring fashionable fabrics for you to choose the best for Lian.”
With the dresses arranged, the matriarch asked about hair ornaments for the ceremony.
Lady Lin was prepared: “Mother remembers the young granddaughter of Duke Yongguo’s ceremony? The gold crown adorned with so many agates… I traced the craftsman, and they are available. Of course, our earl’s household cannot use so many gems. I discussed with the shop to use pearls and jade at the sides and back; it will still look splendid.”
The matriarch nodded in satisfaction. Even the Pei family, with ample wealth, could not exceed protocol by using so many gems.
She asked: “Any difficulties?”
Lady Lin handed over a guest list: “I drafted this list. Since you know my background, you may need to handle some invitations yourself. If anything is incomplete, please advise.”
Thanks to Lady Lin’s efforts, everything proceeded smoothly. By June, preparations were well underway.