6
An Impossible Task
While bagging the sorghum, Su Lu worriedly asked, “Will they have candidates compose poetry?”
This was another challenge he couldn’t overcome in a short time. Mastering tones and rhyme schemes was just the foundation—one also needed accurate allusions, elegant phrasing, and the ability to express ideals and emotions… How could anyone learn all that quickly? Some people might never master poetry in their entire lives.
After all, the most important element in poetry was innate talent…
As for plagiarizing poems, that was even less practical. He barely remembered any ancient poems from after the Tang and Song dynasties, let alone ones that would exactly fit the examination requirements.
“Ah, don’t worry, they won’t make you compose poetry. Poetry is merely a miscellaneous study for scholars’ amusement. If you learn poetry before establishing yourself in the imperial examinations, people will laugh at you for neglecting your proper duties and pretending to be refined,” Su Youcai said with visible pain:
“The reason I struggled in the examinations was because I loved Yuefu poetry and ancient verses in my youth. During the county-level exam, I requested the examiner to test me with poetry, but he angrily scolded me, ‘His Majesty values essays nowadays, why must you dwell on Han and Tang dynasties!’ He said aspiring scholars should focus solely on writing essays, calling such extraneous learning ‘frivolous pursuits that corrupt one’s conduct.’ What’s the point in studying them?”
“Ah? What happened then?” Su Lu’s jaw dropped in astonishment. Truth be told, he hadn’t been without his own fantasies—of just encountering the right moment to plagiarize a poem and achieving instant fame, standing out from the crowd.
“As a result, I was branded with the label ‘pursuing fame over substance,’ becoming an example of misfortune and failure. To this day, scholars along the Chishui River still use me as a cautionary tale,” Su Youcai sighed, speaking with profound earnestness:
“If you truly wish to pursue learning, my son, you must take warning from my example.”
“Your son will remember,” Su Lu quickly nodded. While sympathizing with his father, he secretly rejoiced. Excellent! Another thing he’d have to learn was eliminated…
He organized his thoughts again—it seemed passing the Taiping Academy entrance exam would primarily require memorizing the examination texts. But since both the Tie Jing and Mo Yi were written tests, he’d also need to develop passable brush penmanship, and in traditional characters at that.
So his tasks for the next three-plus months became clear: first, memorization; second, handwriting practice; third, transitioning from simplified to traditional characters.
“One last question,” he asked Su Youcai again, “How many characters total do I need to memorize?”
“That’s quite a lot,” Su Youcai set down his sorghum bundle and counted on his fingers: “The ‘Three Hundred Characters, Thousand Character Classic, and Hundred Family Surnames’ total about five thousand characters; 《Lesser Learning》 has twenty-six thousand; 《Classic of Filial Piety》 two thousand; the ‘Lesser Four Books’ altogether eighteen thousand; 《Categories of Current and Ancient Matters》 and 《Enlightenment of Tonal Prosody》 combined make ten thousand characters.”
Su Lu silently calculated: “That adds up to sixty-one thousand.”
“That’s not all—the real bulk is the 《Collected Commentaries on the Four Books》, which contains a full two hundred fifty thousand characters,” Su Youcai said with a bitter smile. He’d spent several years memorizing before mastering that massive work…
“What about the ‘Four Books’ themselves?” Su Lu asked again.
“…” Su Youcai looked at his son, realizing he genuinely knew nothing. “The 《Collected Commentaries on the Four Books》 is used to explain the Four Books, so it naturally includes the original texts.”
“Combining like terms—excellent!” Su Lu happily clapped his hands. “That makes three hundred eleven thousand characters total. With over a hundred days to prepare, I only need to memorize three thousand characters per day!”
“What do you mean ‘that’s enough’?!” Su Youcai raised a sorghum stalk as if to strike him, saying, “You little brat are like ‘a toad spitting lightning—opening your mouth breaks the sky’!”
“Just wait and see,” Su Lu dodged nimbly.
Memorizing 310,000 characters in a hundred days indeed sounded like an impossible task, so it was natural for his father to think he was boasting.
But in Su Lu’s view, although the task was extremely difficult, it wasn’t entirely hopeless. While he had barely attended school in this lifetime, his previous life had involved over a decade of schooling and examinations. After graduation, he had quickly risen to become a gold-medal lecturer at a test preparation institution.
His greatest strengths in life were learning and test-taking!
Based on his experience, thirteen years old was the peak period for human memory. As long as he maintained focus and persistence, memorizing around two thousand characters daily would be manageable.
Supplemented with various scientific learning methods and memory techniques, it was entirely possible to increase the daily memorization quota to three thousand characters!
Of course, this was only theoretical—whether it could be achieved would depend on practice…
~~
Returning home after work in the evening and finishing the ever-present sorghum meal, Su Lu begged his father to start teaching him.
In the outer room of the east wing where the three lived, Su Tai lit a pine torch.
Ordinary lamps required oil and a wick to light, while the pine torch only needed sliced pine chips placed in an earthen bowl and ignited.
Pine chips cost nothing, were inexhaustible, provided brightness comparable to oil lamps, were wind-resistant, and even repelled mosquitoes—offering numerous advantages.
There was just one drawback—the thick, choking smoke that blackened the ceiling. With windows open during this season it was tolerable, but in winter when doors and windows were shut, it became unusable.
Thus, wealthy households never used such things…
With the south wind blowing, Su Youcai sat on the southern side of the table. If the wind direction changed, he would have to shift positions promptly to avoid the black smoke.
With a solemn expression, he said to Su Lu, “Sit properly and listen attentively.”
“Alright,” Su Lu settled to his right, while Su Tai brought a stool to sit and observe on the left.
“I am pleased that you aspire to study,” Su Youcai said gravely to Su Lu.
“But scholarship is the most sacred undertaking in the world. Since you’ve always been wild, you must first adopt the demeanor of a scholar before you can begin learning. Therefore, I must first teach you the rules of study.”
“Yes,” Su Lu nodded, fully understanding. Every field requires learning its rules before mastering its practice.
“A scholar’s foundation lies in disciplined conduct. First, abstain from lying; second, from gluttony; third, from vulgar or lewd speech; fourth, from coveting others’ possessions; fifth, from gossiping about others; sixth, from leering at women; seventh, from associating with wicked people; eighth, from wearing extravagant clothing; ninth, from fabricating rumors; tenth, from being hot-tempered and arrogant,” Su Youcai declared solemnly.
“Beyond these ten prohibitions, there are nine essentials—walking should be calm and steady, no jumping or rushing. Speech should be measured and clear, not mumbled or hurried. Bowing should be slow and deep, not shallow or hasty. Standing in attendance should be dignified and still, not slouched or tilted. Rising and bowing should coordinate body and hands, without losing propriety. Clothing and shoes should be cared for meticulously, not slovenly. Gaze should be steady and composed, not wandering. Folding hands should align with the collar, not lazy. Sitting should be upright and dignified, not sprawled or arrogant.”
After finishing, he asked Su Lu, “Do you understand all this?”
“Mostly, but there’s one point,” Su Lu answered honestly.
“Speak,” Su Youcai nodded.
“What do the ‘Three Prohibitions’ mean?” Su Lu asked.
“The Three Prohibitions forbid rustic speech and vulgar language,” Su Youcai explained. “That means don’t use local dialects or offensive words. For example, ‘old man’ counts as rustic speech, while ‘son of a turtle’ qualifies as vulgar language.”
He then added somewhat sheepishly: “Your father sometimes breaks this rule when excited. Don’t follow my example – try to speak proper Mandarin whenever possible.”
“Understood.” Su Lu nodded, recognizing this was essentially the ancient equivalent of modern schools promoting standard Mandarin over dialects.
“You must recite these ‘Ten Prohibitions and Nine Essentials’ daily, memorize them thoroughly, and practice them faithfully!” Su Youcai instructed further.
“Yes,” Su Lu responded. He was about to say “I’ll remember, father” when melodious snoring, starting soft then growing stronger, arose beside him.
Su Tai had already fallen peacefully asleep amid the old man’s ramblings…
“Ah.” Su Youcai set down his brush, shaking his head with a sigh. “This child certainly sleeps well.”
“Second brother worked hard all day,” Su Lu defended Su Tai.
~~
Father and son together lifted the limp Su Tai onto the bed, removed his shoes, and tucked a ‘bamboo wife’ into his arms – essentially an elongated bamboo basket, hollow inside with mesh patterns covering its surface. Hugging it during summer sleep helped relieve heat.
This object had existed since the Tang Dynasty, when it was called ‘bamboo knee rest’. Northern Song literati later gave it the more romantic name ‘bamboo wife’. Su Dongpo once wrote: “They say only a bamboo stand by the bed, surely the lady understands not our intimacy” – precisely referring to this item.
However, Huang Tingjian believed that since the bamboo wife served to rest arms and knees while relieving summer heat, it hardly fit a lady’s duties, thus dubbing it ‘Green Slave’. He also composed: “Green Slave knows not how to adorn, belongs in meditation’s butterfly bed. You’ve already one to share mat and pillow, with ice-snow skin bringing cooling aid.”
All three men in the household owned one, each woven by Su Tai himself from split bamboo strips he had smoothed and polished.
After settling Su Tai, Su Youcai and Su Lu returned to the table to continue the lesson.
The table was piled high with practice writing booklets that Su Youcai had brought home for grading. After brief searching, he pulled one out and opened it.
Same rough, yellowish handmade paper, bound with cotton thread along the edge.
Su Lu saw rows of childish but far superior brush characters, many marked with small circles and dots – Su Youcai’s grading symbols.
“Circles indicate excellence, dots represent good work,” Su Youcai explained. “Both are positive marks.”
Su Lu nodded, finally understanding the modern idiom ‘commendable’ (literally ‘circle-worthy and dot-worthy’).
But his father wasn’t showing him exemplary work – the student’s practice content happened to be the 《Three Character Classic》.
“Since you’ve studied the 《Three Character Classic》 before, I won’t teach it from the beginning,” Su Youcai said. “Recite it through, and I’ll provide commentary on any unfamiliar passages.”
“Yes.” Su Lu lifted the practice booklet, inevitably earning another instruction:
“Hold the book three inches from your body, don’t crumple it. Sit straight, face the text, examine characters carefully, and read with clear enunciation.”
Su Lu quickly adjusted his posture as required before beginning soft recitation. Fortunately, knowing simplified characters allowed him to recognize about eighty percent of the traditional versions, saving him from complete illiteracy.
As for the 《Three Character Classic》’s content, compared to his remembered version, there were natural variations. The historical section notably ended with “Twenty-One Histories, all contained herein” rather than “All histories ancient and modern, contained herein.”
The text reads: “…Liao and Jin, both claimed emperorship. Yuan extinguished Jin, ended the Song dynasty. Unified the Central Plains, became foreign rulers. Ming rose, reopened the realm.” It was significantly shorter than the version he had studied in his previous life, making it somewhat easier to memorize.
In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Su Lu looked up and said to his father, “I’ve mastered the 《Three Character Classic》. You can teach me the 《Hundred Family Surnames》 now.”
“…” Su Youcai was momentarily stunned before rolling up a practice writing booklet and smacking Su Lu on the head, grumbling, “You reckless brat, so arrogant and restless—your head needs a good thumping!”
“Vulgar village language and lewd words are forbidden,” Su Lu hurriedly reminded him. “Father, you must set an example as a teacher.”
“I… you…” Su Youcai was momentarily speechless, then couldn’t help but laugh and said, “This isn’t me setting an example as a teacher—this is lifting a rock only to drop it on my own foot.”