Chapter Twenty-Four: The Leader of the Crowd

Cold rain patters against the lonely window, impossible to ignore; rising early, I bitterly study the books of the sages.

Once the autumn rain begins, it seems there is no end to it. It poured relentlessly all day and night yesterday, and at dawn today, the rain continued outside, falling steadily and unhurriedly. My younger brother, Zhou Shaocheng, was still fast asleep. I quietly opened the cloth bundle gifted by Wang Ding, which contained primers for young learners. Though I had read these primers in my past life, as the old scholar Wang Ding observed, I was far from truly mastering them. Since Wang Ding had given me these books, I resolved to read them carefully a few more times, treating it as a review.

“The Hundred Surnames” and “Three Character Classic” were the most familiar, closely followed by “The Thousand Character Classic.” While I had no photographic memory, my powers of recall were excellent; after reading each of these books twice, I had memorized all the archaic characters and could recite the entire texts by heart. Many anecdotes in “Mengqiu” were also quite familiar from later times, so committing them to memory was not difficult.

I had always been irritated by the way most scholars of old closed their eyes and swayed their heads while reciting. I preferred silent recitation: after reading a book twice, I would recite it silently in my mind, and only when I stumbled would I open the book, glance at the passage, and then continue reciting with the book closed.

By the end of the morning, I had memorized nearly all the primers Wang Ding had given me, except for “Lesser Learning,” which I had yet to read. Too much is as bad as too little, and so I stopped there for the morning. From the kitchen came the sounds of activity; Mother and my sister had begun preparing breakfast.

I slipped on my shoes and climbed down from the heated brick bed. Glancing at my little brother, I saw his small head tucked warmly beneath the covers, his bright eyes fixed on me. As I was about to leave the room, he whispered, “Brother, were you just reading?”

This little brother of mine—nothing escaped his sharp eyes. I smiled at him, walked over, gently caressed his cheek, and asked, “Does little brother want to read, too?”

“I don’t want to study. I want to be a wealthy gentleman!” Zhou Shaocheng blurted out without a second thought.

I chuckled softly. “Alright, our Shaocheng doesn’t have to study.”

He was still young—children’s minds change with the wind. Today he might not want to study, but tomorrow he might change his mind. Besides, as our father Zhou Tie said, when things improved next year, Shaocheng would be sent to the village school to study under Master Wang Ding.

In the kitchen, my sister Zhou Luyun was cheerfully pumping the bellows, tending the fire. Seeing me come out, she looked at me with admiration and said, “Little Zhi, it’s raining today so there’s no work to be done. Go back inside and rest. When the meal’s ready, I’ll call you. By the way, Father and Mother said that now the busy farming season is over, our family will be eating two meals a day from today.”

I nodded gently.

Poor farming households were always like this: three meals a day during the busy season, but only two during idle times. With only two meals a day, one’s stomach always felt empty, so most people simply rested indoors, conserving energy and staving off hunger.

“I’ll go check the stable,” I called to my sister, then left the kitchen and headed to the westernmost room where the stable was.

With the black barley horse being fed the finest fodder every day, it was gradually gaining weight. By my calculation, today was the day the stable chief would come to inspect the government horse. Judging by the horse’s robust appearance, I doubted the chief would give our family any trouble.

Today, I had added extra soybeans and black beans to the feed, along with more rice bran than usual. When the chief came to inspect, he’d surely be reassured by our care.

After working in the stable for a while, I returned to the house for breakfast, then resumed my reading.

In my previous life, I had rarely seen “Lesser Learning,” but I clearly remembered Zhu Xi’s famous advice: “For young learners, begin with ‘Lesser Learning;’ therein lies the model for being a person.”

The book was divided into six volumes, split between internal and external sections. “Lesser Learning” didn’t require memorization, but merited careful study to grasp its teachings and understand Master Zhu’s philosophy.

By midday, I had only managed to read about a fifth of “Lesser Learning,” and already my head was spinning. Pressing my forehead, I couldn’t help but sigh at the difficulty of reading the ancients’ works—what an arduous journey the imperial examinations must be.

Just then, outside in the courtyard, Mother called, “Little Zhi, come out quickly, Chief Wang is here!”

I dared not delay and hurried out to greet him.

Though the chief and stable leader were minor officials, they held authority over the government horses, and could not be slighted.

Despite White Mountain Village housing more than thirty government horses, it had neither a chief nor a stable leader of its own. The official responsible for inspecting the horse at our home, Chief Wang, was from the neighboring Zhao Village.

Being the seventh son in his family, he was known as Wang Qi—just one number short of Wang Ba.

Chief Wang had already visited our home twice, but both times I had been working in the fields, so I had never seen him before and did not recognize him.

At that moment, Wang Qi, the chief, stood straight in the courtyard. He appeared to be about forty, wore a small cap and a gray-white long gown—though it bore no patches, it was thoroughly worn. In his hand he carried a small cloth bag, bulging with unknown contents.

No one else was in the courtyard, so he could only be Chief Wang. I hurried forward and saluted. “Greetings, Chief.”

Chief Wang glanced at me, rolled his eyes, and snorted, “No need for formalities. Take me to the stable.”

I led the way, with Chief Wang following. He first examined the horse’s feed, nodded, and said, “This is acceptable, but there’s still too little soybean and black bean. In the future, add some rice, too.”

I nodded in compliance, though inwardly I cursed him—too little? Our family has struggled to feed this government horse for three years and can barely feed ourselves, but here he is nitpicking and bossing us around.

Chief Wang then circled the black barley horse, ran his hands over its body, and his expression suddenly darkened. “Though the horse’s coat is glossy, it’s still much too thin. Boy, are you the one feeding this horse?”

He was simply finding fault for the sake of it. The horse was clearly fatter than when we first received it, yet he claimed it was thin—what was his aim?

Still, a chief was an official, however minor. In these times, commoners could not argue with officials; if he said something was wrong, I had no choice but to agree.

Maintaining a calm expression, I replied, “Chief, you are right. I will be even more diligent in caring for the horse from now on.”

“Hmph! That’s for the future. What about today?” Chief Wang glared fiercely at me.

As chief, he had the authority to declare the horse unfit and give me a scolding whenever he pleased.

Forcing a smile, I said, “Sir, the horse isn’t sick right now. I’ll take even better care of it in the future. What else can I do?”

He gave a cold laugh. “No, the horse isn’t sick, but in my eyes it’s still too thin. That means you’ll have to pay a fine.”