Chapter Twenty: Chasing Shadows for a Taste of Nothing
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Zhou Zhi had long known how arduous the imperial examination was, but hearing Wang Ding describe it now still left him deeply shocked; he had not realized it was so difficult. There was so much to memorize and recite. In later times, people always casually talked about scholars, licentiates, and even those who attained the rank of presented scholar in ancient times, mentioning them as if it were a trivial matter, rarely considering the hardship of their studies or the depth of their learning. Little did they realize that anyone who passed as a licentiate or presented scholar was truly a man of great erudition, brimming with knowledge and wisdom.
It was no wonder, then—if the path of study and the imperial examinations were truly so easy, there would not have been so many elderly students with white hair or venerable old men finally passing as licentiates after a lifetime of striving.
Difficult as the road of the imperial examination was, Zhou Zhi had already resolved to pursue it, and so he nodded firmly to Wang Ding, declaring resolutely, “Master, I have made up my mind.”
Wang Ding’s face was expressionless as he replied softly, “Very well. Since your mind is set, I shall say no more. Come with me.” As he spoke, he slipped on his shoes, stepped down from the heated brick bed, left the bedroom, passed through the kitchen, and headed for the western room. Zhou Zhi dared not lag behind and hurried after him.
At this moment, the old woman, Madam Zhang, was busy washing vegetables in the kitchen, her aged eyes fixed intently on Zhou Zhi. In her view, it was simply inconceivable that a poor boy like Zhou Zhi could come to borrow books for study. What surprised her even more was that her husband, who cherished his books more than life, would actually lend them to Zhou Zhi today.
The western room had no kang; there stood instead an Eight Immortals table and a grand armchair, both exuding an ancient elegance. On the table were arranged brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, along with several volumes, all in perfect order—clearly, this was Wang Ding’s study. In one corner stood a red lacquered wooden chest, beside which Wang Ding knelt down.
The chest was meticulously polished, its red lacquer gleaming. Wang Ding hesitated for a moment, as if finally making some great decision, then unlocked it and gently lifted the lid.
Inside, four neat stacks of books, each nearly two feet thick, lay perfectly arranged. The books were impeccably preserved, free of any creases or stains.
Wang Ding, with great care, stroked the volumes, then drew out one stack and placed it slowly on the Eight Immortals table. He turned to Zhou Zhi and said, “Boy from the Zhou family, here are the Four Books and Five Classics you wish to borrow. These were the very books I used in my own days of study for the examinations. Though I have not leafed through them in years, every few days I still put them in order and wipe them clean.
These books, I had never intended to lend out—they were to accompany me to my grave. But since you came today to borrow them, and I feel a certain affinity with you, I suppose I can lend you one volume.”
His voice was slow and full of reluctance.
Zhou Zhi, hearing this, smiled wryly to himself. One volume again? This old master truly loved his books as his own life, wanting even to take them to his grave—what use would that be? Would he still be reading after death? He could not fathom it.
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Of course, Zhou Zhi could not understand. Thirty years ago, it had taken Wang Ding untold effort and devotion to pass the entry-level examination for scholars—only he could know what it had cost. By now, these books had become a part of his very being, inseparable from his flesh and blood.
“Boy from the Zhou family, why are you still standing there? Choose a volume,” Wang Ding said softly.
Zhou Zhi stepped closer, and a wave of bookish fragrance immediately filled his nostrils. As a graduate from a top university in modern times, while he had not memorized the Four Books and Five Classics, not knowing what they were would be laughable. He leafed through the volumes gently, truly wishing he could take each one home to study thoroughly. But the old master’s keen eyes watched his every move, as if fearing Zhou Zhi would take his very life. Zhou Zhi thought to himself, well, one cannot become learned overnight; trying to swallow everything whole would be pointless. Everything must proceed step by step. The scholarly path was a long road, requiring patience.
With that thought, Zhou Zhi carefully drew out the Analects, smiling at Wang Ding. “Master, I’ll borrow this one.”
Everyone knows the Analects records the words and deeds of Confucius and is less than twenty thousand characters in total. In Zhou Zhi’s view, it should be easy to read, as he had encountered much of it in modern textbooks, both in middle and high school. Starting with it seemed a good idea.
Wang Ding, seeing Zhou Zhi select the Analects, frowned slightly and shook his head, “Boy from the Zhou family, now that you’ve chosen the scholarly path, you must read in the proper order. Master Zhu said one should begin the Four Books with the Great Learning, to set a foundation; then the Analects, to establish principles; next, the Mencius, to inspire progress; and lastly, the Doctrine of the Mean, to pursue subtlety.
You’re starting with the Analects, which is out of order—no, that will not do!”
Zhou Zhi was taken aback. Was even reading books subject to such strict order? Did they really think, as a modern university graduate, he could not understand the Analects first? Ridiculous! The ancients were too bound by rules. Even Master Zhu was a cause of much trouble!
But since Wang Ding insisted, Zhou Zhi could only smile awkwardly and did not put the Analects back. At that moment, Wang Ding had already drawn out the thin volume of the Great Learning from the stack on the table.
Zhou Zhi reached to take it, grinning, “Thank you, Master, for lending me the book.”
Seeing Zhou Zhi now holding two books, Wang Ding’s face darkened, but then he smiled, “You rascal! Well, since I’m in a good mood today, I’ll let you borrow both.”
He muttered a few words and left it at that.
Zhou Zhi’s face lit up with joy. “Thank you, Master! At last I have books to read.”
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“Hmph! Don’t be too pleased with yourself—you think reading a few books will earn you fame? The path of study and the imperial examination is hard, so very hard!” Wang Ding seemed to be speaking both to Zhou Zhi and to himself, recalling the hardships of his own scholarly days.
As he carefully placed the remaining books back into the chest, he continued, “Take Fan Jin from the town—he and I sat for the entry exam the same year. The next year, I passed as a scholar, but Fan Jin kept trying until his hair turned white, and only passed last year.
That Fan Jin’s family had nothing but bare walls—their life was wretched. Even after finally passing at such an age, what was the use? But that old fellow never lost his ambition; even now, past fifty, he dreams of becoming a licentiate and getting a taste of glory!
The road of the imperial examination is truly hard, boy. Whatever you do, don’t end up like Fan Jin!”
Fan Jin? Wasn’t that the character from Wu Jingzi’s “The Scholars”? But Fan Jin was a fictional figure—could it be he truly existed in history? And in the novel, Fan Jin was from Guangdong; how did he end up here in the northern county of Qingdu?
Well, authors often change the setting of their characters. If the Fan Jin Wang Ding mentioned was truly the same as the one in “The Scholars,” Zhou Zhi would certainly want to meet him one day if given the chance.
While Zhou Zhi’s thoughts wandered, Wang Ding had finished locking the chest.
He glanced at Zhou Zhi, his gaze finally settling on the two books in Zhou Zhi’s hands. In a deep voice, he admonished, “You must take care of these two books—do not get them dirty or creased.”
“I’ll remember, Master!” Zhou Zhi replied respectfully.
“Good. It seems there’s fate between us, after all. I’m in a rather good mood today—let me give you something else as well,” Wang Ding said with a gentle smile.