Rewind to a short while earlier. Near the library of the Su residence the stoves blazed and the mood was solemn. By now every man of any learning to be found in the whole Su family had gathered there, and the highest in station among them was naturally Song Mao, courtesy name Yufan, the current Prefect of Shenzhou: a jinshi degree holder, and by popular reckoning already a man of prodigious talent. Since everyone knew he came every year, the Su family's students had long been preparing under their teachers' prodding.
Money may not buy learning, but money can buy books, and so this library building of the Su family was in fact quite large and imposing.
If Old Master Su had any wish at all, it was probably that one day the Su residence would become a true family of scholars; that after generations of learned men had come forth, his descendants would look on this library and remember the efforts of his own generation, of him who had been nothing but a merchant.
There was a certain solemnity in the thought—and old men, as a rule, take the keenest interest in such things.
By now the more mechanical part of the examination was finished in the front half of the library; it amounted to no more than setting the older students a policy essay, and giving the younger children a saying of the sages to interpret and explain. Model answers were absolutely unheard of in these times.
No one could tell you with certainty what any given line of the Analects was supposed to mean; every man had his own understanding, and the judging was a matter of private conviction.
Of course, anyone with discernment could read a great deal from the papers—the teachers' mechanical indoctrination, or whether the students had any capacity for original thought, any ideas of their own.
This year's examination was somewhat different from those of years past.
Now, the preliminary test over, the one called up to the center of the library to answer Song Mao's questions was a child of no more than nine or ten. Anyone could see he was desperately nervous; his words came out stuttering, he seemed to have little confidence in his answers, but he did manage to keep going.
"In the Analects... in the Yong Ye chapter it says...
'The wise delight in water, the benevolent delight in mountains; the wise are active, the benevolent are still; the wise are joyful, the benevolent are long-lived'... it means... the wise seek out the changes in all things, and the benevolent... but the reason the wise seek so many changes is that they are looking for the one ultimate principle that holds through ten thousand changes, and the benevolent do not seek change, and yet can meet the changes of all things without changing; the benevolent and the wise are one body from the start... the master says... the master says, a benevolent man who does not understand wisdom is not truly benevolent, and a wise man who does not understand benevolence knows nothing but crooked side roads.
Er... one day that will cost him dear..."
The child was only about nine, plainly an honest and simple sort; putting his words together was hard for him, and after going on at length he still fell back on "the master says," mixed in with bits of plain colloquial speech. If he were really sent out to sit for an examination, it would never pass muster in refined company—but this was a different matter. Song Mao was close to forty this year, and had the look of an upright man with a touch of homely simplicity about him; he listened and nodded along.
"Xunzi once said, 'A thousand measures, ten thousand changes, their Way is one'; Zhuangzi also said, 'Not departing from the ancestor—this is what is called the Heavenly Man.' A myriad changes never departing from the source... it is indeed so. Xiao Heizi, that line—your master taught it to you, didn't he?"
Hearing the question, the nervous Xiao Heizi cheered up a little, probably because the answer was simple, and nodded: "Yes. In—in reply to the Prefect, the master once said, 'The vertical and the horizontal never exceed the square and the circle; a myriad changes never depart from the source.'"
"The vertical and the horizontal never exceed square and circle; a myriad changes never depart from the source... that one line is enough..." Song Mao nodded, then smiled. "And this reading of 'the wise delight in water'—was that all your master's words too?"
Xiao Heizi nodded: "The master said some of it offhand. This student... this student doesn't remember it all that well..."
"Do you understand it?"
The child thought about it, shook his head, then carefully nodded: "I do... a little..."
"Ha, I thought as much." Song Mao laughed. "Then this passage of interpretation you were examined on earlier—was that also entirely your master's?"
The child nodded, then shook his head: "The master... the master did touch on this before, but... but he didn't say these particular things. This part... some of it is what this student thought up..."
Watching him shake his head and nod, then nod and shake it again, Song Mao laughed and nodded himself, then exchanged a few opinions with Su Chonghua and the others around him. Old Master Su had been watching from the side all along, and of course he could tell something was different now: "Prefect, is this...?"
"Congratulations, Uncle Su. This child, and the one tested before him, may well accomplish something one day."
"Ah..."
Praise like that from Song Mao was not easily come by. Old Master Su was delighted, though he still did not show much of it on the surface, only watching how matters would develop. Song Mao looked around at the tutors and the several masters of the academy, and cupped his hands toward Su Chonghua: "Brother Su, might I ask which of your teachers has been instructing Xiao Heizi?"
He had in the past had some dealings with several of the academy's teachers, and found none of them worth taking; now he let his gaze settle on one or two unfamiliar faces. Su Chonghua looked hesitant, but after a glance at Old Master Su he spoke up: "He doesn't seem to be here. Xiao Heizi and Chongming before him are both Liheng's students."
Old Master Su was slightly taken aback, then delight showed on his face. Song Mao's expression shifted a little too; he flipped through some of the xuan paper answer sheets, had a teacher beside him pick through them, stacked five of them and read them over again, then passed them to Old Master Su and Su Chonghua. "Take a look, Brother Su. All these students' answers—were they taught by that one man?"
Su Chonghua looked at the names and nodded. Only then did Song Mao explain to Old Master Su: "The same question, taught by the same master, the same lessons in the same schoolroom—and yet these five differ from one another, and each has its own understanding, its own insights..."
No more needed to be said. Old Master Su himself had little learning, but by now he understood the meaning behind the other man's words. Then Song Mao glanced over the crowd standing around and asked Su Chonghua: "This Liheng you speak of—is he Ning Yi, Ning Liheng, of the Shui Diao Ge Tou?"
"...It is indeed him."
"A man of great talent. I don't know who he is—he ought to be invited up to sit with you and me. How can he be left watching from down in the crowd?"
Everyone up on the platform was middle-aged or old. Ning Yi ought to have been present; since he was not on the platform, he must be standing among the family and relatives watching below. Old Master Su raised his eyes toward the crowd below—his eyesight was none too good—and asked Su Boyong at the same time: "Where is Liheng?"
Su Boyong had in fact been looking as well, and shook his head: "He seems... not to be here."
In past years, this second half of individual questioning had always gone to the relatively older students. This time two children had been called out, and uneasy as they looked standing there, to the people around them it was the mark of real learning, an honor worth boasting of.
While the talk went back and forth up above, the crowd watching below was murmuring too. Juan'er, who had run over to enjoy the spectacle, caught hold of one of Ning Yi's students and cheered him on: "Look how impressive Heizi and Chongming are.
If they call you out to answer questions later, you'd better answer properly, and not lose face for your master."
These children were forever pestering Ning Yi for stories, and were on familiar terms with Chan'er and Juan'er as well. Now the boy pulled a miserable face: "But Sister Juan'er, I'm scared. The Prefect himself is up there."
"It's not even our prefecture's examination, and he's not going to chop your head off. Look how friendly the man is. Heizi and the others are scared too... Anyway, if you lose face, sister won't let you off..."
She had not finished speaking when Su Boyong up above spotted Juan'er in the crowd and called her out, all smiles: "Where is your household's son-in-law?" By the time she was sent out the door to fetch Ning Yi, back in the hall Song Mao had grown interested in this business of Ning Yi telling stories in class, and was having Xiao Heizi tell one on the spot...
Once she had got her breath back and told the whole story with great relish to Su Tan'er and the others, they were rather astonished too. Then Juan'er asked Chan'er: "Where on earth is the son-in-law? The Eldest Master and the rest are still waiting over there. I had a look in the courtyard earlier and he wasn't there either."
Chan'er was troubled too: "But... the son-in-law seems to have gone out already this morning... I—I don't really know either..."
After several months of teaching at Yushan Academy, Ning Yi had heard from Xiao Chan that there was an examination once a year at the year's end, but given his temperament, he naturally never took such things to heart.
When he told stories to that bunch of children in class, there was suspicion, amusement and censure, and Su Tan'er was puzzled and displeased as well; he could see all of it in their faces, and understood it perfectly clearly. He simply could not be bothered to defend himself.
But if Xiao Chan truly asked him what he thought of these examinations, he would most likely have said offhandedly: "If I can't even get past a thing like this, then I really ought to quit."
There were not many things he wanted to do now, but once he set about doing them, all that remained was to wait for the result. After everything he had been through, he still had his vanity, of course, but vanity had long since ceased to be what drove his main actions.
With people who could understand him a little, or might try to understand, and who had a decent outlook on life themselves—Old Qin, Old Kang and the like—he could ramble on about any nonsense at all and secretly savor the look on their faces.
But if the other man's comprehension fell short—you say a thing or two and he puts on a righteous face and calls you a rebel against the sages—isn't that just asking to be tormented?
Whether Ning Yi would have gone to watch the examination had he been home today was hard to say, but in any case he had left the house that morning and knew nothing of how the whole affair was unfolding.
The Su family had been busy of late, and he had things of his own he wanted to do; after all, he had been idle far too long, and it was time to find something to play at.
Whether anything would come of it was hard to say, but at least it would prove one thing: that he, a modern-day big boss, in this terrifying age that did not even have MSG, had struggled a while for the prospect of a happy, beautiful life.
Come to think of it, it's a lot like watching a pig thrash around...
Wind and snow filled the sky. Turning these idle thoughts over, he followed the snow-covered street toward the intersection ahead. A blue robe, an oil-paper umbrella—set down in a painting, that figure against the long street and the falling snow would have carried a little of the old scholarly charm.
There were still quite a few shops open for business on either side of the road; pedestrians hurried past; a carriage went by at his side. At the intersection stood a few small stalls, and behind one of the pushcarts a woman in an ugly headscarf blinked and peered this way with some puzzlement.
Ning Yi waved, and a bashful smile appeared over there.
Nie Yunzhu's pancake stall, so utterly at odds with her bearing, was already open for business. Ning Yi had long known the spot, but this was the first time he had strolled over to it.