Tutor Duan’s given name was Duan Zhishu, courtesy name Huanzhi.

He had once shared a history with Xu Zhannian, the great master Xu.

When Master Xu was young, he and Tutor Duan had been classmates. Both were from the same hometown, and both had the character “zhi” in their names—it was through this connection that they came to know each other. Later they sat the same examination and were admitted together to the White Deer Grotto Academy, where they got along splendidly. Living in the same dormitory room, they grew close through frequent contact, and their bond as fellow students deepened with each passing day.

One rest day, Duan Zhishu did not return home. Taking advantage of the crisp autumn weather and the brilliant crimson maples, he planned to go alone up the mountain to take in the scenery.

When night came, Xu Zhannian returned to the dormitory and found that his good friend had not yet come back.

As the night grew deep, Xu Zhannian dimly recalled that his friend had mentioned that morning something about going to the rear mountain to admire the maples. Growing more and more worried and anxious, fearing some mishap had occurred, Xu Zhannian immediately gathered several classmates, and with lanterns in hand and torches raised, set off for the rear mountain to search.

They called out as they searched along the stone steps, but received no reply. Fortunately Xu Zhannian was observant, with good eyesight—and in a steep and rocky gully on the slope, he spotted Duan Zhishu lying unconscious.

Several classmates took turns carrying the injured Duan Zhishu back to the academy on their backs and sent for a physician to treat him. Though Duan Zhishu was fortunate enough to recover his life, he was left with a lasting affliction—his legs became paralyzed and lost all sensation.

Duan Zhishu had originally been the top-ranked student of the Prefectural Examination—the very time for him to make his mark on the world. Now, visited by sudden and cruel misfortune, he was filled with bitterness and resentment, and his temperament changed profoundly.

Given his condition, his path to the examinations and official service was, of course, foreclosed.

Some years later, by which time Xu Zhannian had passed the imperial examinations and been posted to Taicang as an official, he returned home for ancestral rites and heard that his old friend had taken ill and was bed-ridden, impoverished and with no one to care for him. Recalling their past bond as classmates, and knowing that Duan Zhishu’s scholarship had once been far superior to his own, Xu Zhannian recognized him as a man of rare talent.

He went to call on him and urged him, saying: “Brother Duan has always known that I, Xu, come from a humble family of modest means. If Brother Duan is willing to come away with me, I dare not promise you much else, but plain food and three meals a day, brush and ink and books—these I will never let you go without.”

Duan Zhishu wept: “I am a broken and useless man—how can I be worth such trouble on Elder Brother Xu’s part?”

“I only wish that Brother Duan would take up his books once more.”

In the years that followed, Xu Wang and Xu Zhan were born one after another. Xu Zhannian was occupied with his official duties and busy most of the time, so Duan Zhishu personally gave the two young nephews their elementary instruction himself, holding nothing back in teaching them everything he knew.

The rest is well known—Xu Wang earned his jinshi degree in the second rank and had already taken office at court; Xu Zhan achieved first place in the Provincial Examination, and with the Metropolitan and Palace Examinations approaching, he was sure to excel there as well.

Now the Xu household had two more grandchildren, Xu Yancheng and Xu Yan Gui—and in due course, it would naturally be Tutor Duan who would give them their elementary education as well.

Two classmates holding each other dear, each contributing to the other’s story—a beautiful tale indeed.

……

The following day, the two brothers, Huai and Jin, were escorted to the Xu household, where Xu Zhan led them to the study and presented them before Tutor Duan.

This was, in essence, an examination.

“Brother-in-law, what kinds of scholarship will the tutor test us on in a while?” Jin Ge’er asked.

Compared to his elder brother, Jin Ge’er was visibly more nervous.

Xu Zhan stopped walking, turned around, and crouched down to address the two younger brothers-in-law: “Tutor Duan’s assessments have never followed a fixed pattern, and there are never any set answers. Brothers-in-law, you need only keep one thing firmly in mind—whatever the tutor asks you to do, do it properly and with decorum. On no account try to be clever or play any small tricks.”

Both brothers nodded seriously and took their brother-in-law’s words to heart.

Arriving at the door of the study, Xu Zhan knocked and called inward: “Tutor Duan, it’s me—Qianli.” Qianli was Xu Zhan’s courtesy name: Zhan, meaning to gaze far from a high vantage, to see a thousand li in every direction—hence the courtesy name “Qianli.”

He then said: “The two young men seeking instruction have arrived.”

Only then did a somewhat subdued voice come from within: “Bring them in.”

Upon entering the study, Pei Shaohuai saw Tutor Duan—the tutor sat in a wheelchair with his back to them. From his silhouette, he appeared to be a very slight man, in his mid-forties. Strands of white had already begun to thread through his black hair. His blue-green robe was so neatly arranged that not a single crease was visible.

Even seated in a wheelchair, he was a man who clearly cared a great deal about his appearance.

The two brothers, Huai and Jin, knelt in formal obeisance and said: “Your students pay their respects to the tutor.”

“Your wishes—Qianli told me everything yesterday.” Tutor Duan did not turn around. He remained with his back to the two brothers, and without any particular shift in emotion, said slowly: “Outside the study there is a large vat used for washing ink brushes. Practice your characters by dipping in water. When you have used up all the water in that vat, you may speak of becoming students.”

He posed no questions, gave the brothers no opportunity to speak, and simply stated his requirement.

His temperament was indeed rather peculiar, just as had been said.

Pei Shaohuai nodded inwardly. A man of exceptional skill, struck down by great misfortune—it was entirely natural that he would have some peculiarities.

But as for this writing with dipped water… what exactly was the method? Pei Shaohuai was uncertain, but recalling his brother-in-law’s earlier words, he dared not blurt out a question rashly. He thought—he could ask his brother-in-law privately afterward and arrive at the same answer.

He and Jin exchanged a glance, of one mind, and then together bowed to Tutor Duan and replied: “Your students understand.”

Tutor Duan waved them off, indicating they could go out and begin.

……

Xu Zhan led the two brothers outside the study and brought them to a covered pavilion. Beside the pavilion stood an enormous white porcelain vat—its interior stained from the rim down to the base with a layer of deep ink-blue from years of brush-washing use. The previous night’s sudden rain had just stopped, and the vat was full to the brim, its surface rippling gently in the breeze.

Inside the pavilion, two slabs of smooth marble had been raised on a blue-brick foundation, arranged like a writing desk at just the right height for leaning over to practice characters.

Xu Zhan had someone fetch a small bowl and a writing brush. He scooped a small amount of water from the vat into the bowl and set it on the stone surface, then took up the brush, dipped it in the water, and wrote on the marble slab. By the time he had written a dozen or more characters, the earlier ones had gradually dried, leaving blank space again—and so the cycle continued. The fluency with which he practiced made it clear he had done this more than a few times in his own childhood.

Xu Zhan asked: “Have both brothers-in-law understood the method?”

So it was: using stone as paper, and water as ink—writing “wordless books.”

“We have,” both brothers replied.

“And have you both understood what the tutor said?” Xu Zhan asked again, clearly with a particular implication in mind.

Pei Shaohuai nodded and replied: “Only by properly and dutifully using up all the water will we have a chance to take the tutor as our teacher.” He paused, then added: “Brother-in-law need not attend to us continuously—please go about your own affairs.”

Xu Zhan smiled with satisfaction and said: “Good.”

This large vat of water would take at least a month to be written dry.

The two brothers sat down on the stone stools, ready to begin. Pei Shaohuai reminded his younger brother: “Jin, treat water as you would ink—let every stroke carry purpose.”

“Elder Brother, I understand,” Jin Ge’er replied, and then asked: “Elder Brother, what should we write?”

“Let’s first copy out all of the Analects and Mencius that we’ve memorized. When we come tomorrow, bring along the other volumes as well—we can study, read, and write all at once. That way these days won’t be wasted.” Pei Shaohuai also encouraged his younger brother: “The vat may be large, but as long as we brothers work together with diligence and come at the appointed time every day, we will certainly empty it.”

Jin Ge’er nodded and replied: “Yes, yes—I’ll do whatever Elder Brother says.”

Writing characters in such an environment was certainly not as comfortable as writing on paper in a study—with elbows resting on the stone surface, the hard stone dug into the arms painfully. After grinding away at this for more than a month, they would likely shed several layers of skin. The two brothers soon settled into a focused state, writing stroke by stroke with complete concentration. Before long, fine beads of sweat had appeared on their foreheads and at the tips of their brushes.

As the sun began to set, the high walls of the Xu household blocked the last of the daylight, and the pavilion gradually grew dim. Only then did the two brothers set down their brushes, carefully pouring the unused water from their bowls back into the vat. After tidying everything up, they returned to the Earl’s Manor.

……

Back at the Earl’s Manor, the two brothers reported to their father everything that had happened that day.

The Old Madam listened from the side and felt deeply pained. Momentarily vexed, she complained: “If he’s unwilling to take them, he could just say so directly—why put forward such a troubling demand and make the two children suffer day after day?”

“Mother, please don’t think of it that way. Tutor Duan is a man of great learning, and this requirement is nothing unreasonable,” Pei Bingyuan continued. “Moreover, Huai’er and Jin’er are no longer young—if they don’t endure some hardship now, they’ll have to endure far greater hardship when they grow up. Good jade must be carefully polished before it becomes a fine gem.”

Pei Bingyuan had to return to the Imperial Academy. He instructed Lin Shi: “See to it that the two young masters are sent over punctually every day, and fetched back again in the evening. They must be on time without fail.” Thinking it over, he added: “And do not go asking anyone in the Xu household to put in a word on the boys’ behalf—follow Tutor Duan’s requirements in every respect.”

“I understand—for this period of time, I’ll set aside the business affairs and focus entirely on overseeing this matter. Don’t worry,” Lin Shi replied.

And so, each day, Huai Ge’er and Jin Ge’er traveled back and forth between the Pei and Xu households. Though writing on the stone surface was no small hardship, their days were extraordinarily full, and their scholarship grew without their even noticing.

Tutor Duan was truly a peculiar man in his ways. Through his study window, he could perfectly well see the covered pavilion and observe what the two young students were doing. Yet he never once looked, never asked after them, simply shutting his door and reading his own books in solitude.

Until more than a month later.

Adu, the old manservant who attended Tutor Duan, came to report: “Master Duan, the water in the vat has almost run dry.”

Tutor Duan counted silently in his mind—forty days had passed. At last he gathered his attention and asked Adu: “Have their family members come to plead on their behalf? Have the boys themselves complained about the hardship?”

“Master, they have not.”

He asked again: “Have the two boys thrown down their brushes, splashed about the water, or scrawled carelessly?”

“None of that either. Whatever water was left unwritten in the bowl was poured back into the vat with complete propriety.”

Tutor Duan gave a slight nod and continued: “What content have they been writing on the stone tablets in their usual practice?”

“This old servant has limited learning, and I fear I cannot give a complete account.”

“Just tell me what you saw.”

Adu then said: “In the first few days they seemed to be writing out The Analects and Mencius from memory—writing vigorously and swiftly, which suggests they were very familiar with those texts in their hearts. Afterward, the two young masters brought along The Great Learning and The Doctrine of the Mean and studied while copying, so the pace slowed considerably and naturally they used less water each day… Occasionally, I also saw them transcribing poetry and verse to relieve the tedium.”

“I’ve never known you to say so many good things about anyone,” Tutor Duan said with a rare smile, bantering with old Adu.

Adu replied: “What good things? This old servant was entrusted to keep watch over them, and I merely reported to master what I observed—nothing more.”

“Go and pass word to Qianli—tell him I’m taking in these two young students. Have him add two seats beside young Yancheng.”

“Yes.”

Though Tutor Duan had only asked two or three questions, which might seem cursory, each one carried deliberate consideration:

First, when he taught students, he most disliked interference from the students’ elders.

Second, he disliked students who sought shortcuts, resorted to small tricks, and could not endure hardship.

Third, he wanted his students to possess a measure of natural talent and to advance at a steady pace—not to rush headlong simply for speed.

Evidently, over the full forty days of writing at the stone surface, the conduct of the two brothers, Huai and Jin, had satisfied Tutor Duan’s requirements in every respect.

……

Before long, Xu Zhan came over, cheerful and beaming, and the moment he entered he offered congratulations: “Felicitations to Tutor Duan on gaining two fine students.”

Seeing how delighted Xu Zhan was, Tutor Duan asked: “Is this really worth such happiness from you?”

“Tutor Duan does not know the full picture.” Xu Zhan said, “My two brothers-in-law—one has a memory beyond compare, the other has insight that is extraordinary. Both are fine material for scholarship.”

Tutor Duan listened, startled. He had not realized there was this further connection between them. He asked: “Since they are the brothers of your wife, why did you not say so beforehand?”

Xu Zhan explained: “I have followed Tutor Duan and studied under him for many years, and I know your rules. Had I mentioned it beforehand, it would only have put Tutor Duan in an awkward position.”

……

……

When the news reached the Earl’s Manor, the entire household was naturally overjoyed. Lin Shi quickly sent someone to convey the good news to the Imperial Academy: “The master still has ten or more days before his rest period—let him hear the good news early, so he won’t keep worrying about the boys’ studies.”

As for Lian Jie’er, whose pregnancy was now stable, Lin Shi, along with the Old Madam and Concubine Shen, went to visit her—sharing intimate conversation and so forth—all of which need not be described in detail.

In due course, Huai Ge’er and Jin Ge’er formally entered the Xu household and began their studies in reading and writing under Tutor Duan.

The eldest grandson of the Xu household, Xu Yancheng, was eight years old that year—slightly older than the brothers, Huai and Jin. He had inherited the talent of his forebears and was himself a bright and capable student. Up until now, Tutor Duan’s study had accommodated him alone for instruction.

Upon hearing that two new classmates and playmates were coming, Xu Yancheng was thrilled beyond measure.

On the first day of “school,” Xu Yancheng was waiting early. The moment the two brothers stepped down from the carriage, he rushed over to greet them, delighted: “Little Uncle Huai, Little Uncle Jin—from now on we’re classmates! You can call me Yancheng, or you can call me Big Nephew.”

“Certainly, Big Nephew.” Pei Shaohuai laughed.

A bit of playful banter quickly closed the distance among the three of them.

Once they were inside the classroom, Xu Yancheng took out his own course materials and, with an endless stream of chatter, introduced what Tutor Duan had been teaching lately—a long string of words delivered at a rapid pace, yet perfectly organized and clear.

Pei Shaohuai found himself genuinely fond of Xu Yancheng’s open and sunny temperament. He thought to himself—that tongue of Yancheng’s was surely inherited from his grandfather’s talents. Master Xu, currently serving as Director of the Court of State Ceremonial, was a man who could ill afford to be without a gifted and articulate tongue.

“Tutor Duan doesn’t usually strike people’s palms with a ruler,” Xu Yancheng said in a low voice, “but his way of punishing people is far worse than a ruler to the palm. Take copying texts, for instance—normally you’d copy something once. But if he catches a mistake, it becomes twice; if there are still errors, that doubles to four times, and so on, doubling each time.”

Xu Yancheng smiled sheepishly, scratched his head and said with embarrassment: “Don’t ask me how I know. Your nephew is not talented—at most I’ve only ever copied something a mere sixteen times… that’s all. Nothing worth mentioning outside of this room.”

Pei Shaohuai could not help laughing out loud, and said: “Thank you to Yancheng for being the trailblazer on our behalf.”

……

For all that Tutor Duan was unsmiling in ordinary life, always wearing a stern face and speaking in a flat and subdued manner—the moment he began to teach, he came alive with animation. His lessons were genuinely engaging and enjoyable.

He always found ways to connect the content of classical texts to things observed and experienced in daily life, guiding his students gently and gradually, truly drawing the three young boys into the textual world until they were immersed in it.

The stark contrast between his expression before and after a lesson made one thing clear—Tutor Duan’s life had known great suffering, yet the moment he picked up a book, he could find his own joy in it. He truly loved to read.

Pei Shaohuai listened with genuine pleasure every day and felt himself most fortunate to have been admitted into this tutor’s circle. In his view, Tutor Duan was incomparably better than that arrogant old academician at the Director’s residence—by more than just a little.

After some ten or more days had passed, Tutor Duan had taken the full measure of the two brothers’ foundation and character. From that point on, in addition to the group lessons, he also gave each of the three students individual instruction.

Teaching according to the student’s individual character and capacity.

When setting coursework, Tutor Duan said to Pei Shaohuai: “What matters most for you right now is memorization. No matter how sharp your insight, if your memorization is not yet thorough, you’ll be like someone trying to cook without rice.”

“Yes, tutor.”

Then to Pei Shaojin: “Go through all the character meanings and word meanings in today’s lesson and look them up one by one. I will examine you on them tomorrow. If any are wrong…”

Jin Ge’er replied: “Your student understands.”

When it came to Xu Yancheng’s turn, Tutor Duan was silent for a moment before saying: “Both of their assignments—you’ll be doing them too.”

Xu Yancheng: …

Huai Ge’er and Jin Ge’er found it very difficult not to laugh.

After old Adu came to wheel the tutor away, Xu Yancheng sat in the classroom with a look of suffering and said: “I thought that once you two came, you’d help distract the tutor’s attention away from me. Instead, I’ve become the one he keeps the closest eye on… Two Little Uncles, if you don’t each send me a clay toy carriage tomorrow, that simply cannot stand.”

“Of course we’ll send them—how could we not?” Pei Shaohuai laughed heartily. “On my day off, I’ll make you a magnificent one—with ten horses pulling it at the front.”

……

……

Though memorizing texts day after day was somewhat tedious, and the classical sentences were at times obscure and difficult to parse, Pei Shaohuai studied with great energy and enthusiasm. Every additional passage he memorized left him feeling more enriched. With Tutor Duan imparting knowledge without reservation, and his classmates advancing together, he felt deeply content.

The days of the Earl’s Manor passed quietly and peacefully.

Yet there was one matter that had been hanging in Pei Shaohuai’s heart without resolution. According to what had been written in the original book, the scoundrel scholar who had deceived his second elder sister Pei Ruolan’s affections ought to have appeared by now.

It was no small matter—Pei Shaohuai had to keep a watchful eye. And yet, in these past several months, Lan Jie’er had been remarkably well-behaved within the Earl’s Manor. Apart from going to the family’s own theater to watch opera, she rarely ventured out.

There was no indication whatsoever that she had come to know any scholars or literary men.

Pei Shaohuai wondered inwardly—could it be that because of his own presence, that scoundrel scholar had somehow failed to come to the imperial capital, or alternatively, had come but had no opportunity to meet Lan Jie’er, and so had been unable to cause her harm?

He could not be certain of anything, and had no choice but to take things one step at a time. If Lan Jie’er truly were to do something foolish, not only would Zhu and Ying Jie’er be affected—his and Jin Ge’er’s paths through the imperial examinations and into official service would be impacted as well. He had no choice but to remain vigilant.

Ah—it was truly like a bolt of lightning hovering overhead, not knowing when it might strike. It put him on constant edge.

……

For each of the twenty-four solar terms, Tutor Duan always gave the three students a day off, telling them to spend it properly experiencing the changes of the season, for there was great learning to be found in the solar terms, he said.

At night, the dew met the cold air, gathered on branches, and congealed. The dew turned white—autumn was drawing near.

On the day of Cold Dew, Pei Shaohuai had finished breakfast and was strolling in his own courtyard when Chang Fan came running over, handing him a calling card and saying: “Young Master Huai, this is a calling card sent from General Situ’s household. Their Second Young Master says he wishes to come to the manor today to discuss scholarly matters with you.”

Pei Shaohuai took it and opened it. At the bottom, scrawled in uneven and wobbly strokes, was the name “Situ Yang.”

It was the same dissolute young wastrel he had seen that night at the theater, drunk to a stupor.

“Young Master, he’s come again. What should we do?”

“What else can we do? Prepare to receive a guest.” Pei Shaohuai rubbed his temple and said: “It’s not as though I can stop him from coming. Next time, remember to say I’m not in.”

One Lan Jie’er was already enough to trouble him—and now here came Situ Yang, stumbling in from out of nowhere. Truly, even six pairs of hands would not have been enough to handle everything.

Situ Yang claimed to want to discuss scholarly matters, but in truth he was there on account of Lan Jie’er.

That night at the theater, after Lan Jie’er had arranged for someone to look after Situ Yang, the general’s household had sent someone the next day to convey their gratitude—and that should have been the end of the matter. But as luck would have it, in early summer, the imperial capital’s Fanyuan Gardens had hosted a competition in the Six Arts, and all the notable households of the city had attended—particularly the young men and women who had not yet been betrothed.

It was, one might say, an athletic meet doubled as a matchmaking event.

And there, once again, Situ Yang laid eyes on Lan Jie’er.

Lan Jie’er had been mischievous from childhood and was remarkably accurate with things. She had no great skill at much else, but when it came to pastimes such as pot-throwing, mallet-ball, and cuju, she was exceedingly dexterous and sure. In the competitions, Lan Jie’er not only surpassed all the other young ladies, she also outshone Situ Yang himself, who was known for his love of play.

And so the outcome was this: the chance encounter at the theater, and then being beaten soundly at the gardens—between the two events, Situ Yang found his heart itching and restless, and after dwelling on it for some time, he developed feelings for Lan Jie’er.

……

An hour later, Situ Yang arrived.

He came striding in with long, bold steps, found himself a chair without any prompting, propped both legs up on the low table, picked up the tea that was nearby and drank from it—quite unbothered about whether Pei Shaohuai had already drunk from it.

His manner was far from refined.

“Little brother Huai, how do you manage to go to the study hall every single day without getting tired? I keep sending calling cards only to find you out.”

“From the founding of the Da Qing dynasty to now, I am the fifth generation of the Jingchuan Earl’s Manor, and you are the seventh generation of General Situ’s household.” Pei Shaohuai said.

Situ Yang was muddled by this and could not follow. He asked: “What do you mean by all that?”

“You ought to call me Great-Uncle, not ‘little brother Huai.'”

“Pfft—” Situ Yang nearly choked on his tea and spat it out. “I call you ‘little brother’ as a courtesy, and it’s more than enough… By your reckoning, just a few years back you were still a toddler who needed help with his chamber pot, and now you’re here debating seniority with me?”

Pei Shaohuai continued: “You said you came to discuss scholarly matters, didn’t you? Then let us begin.”

“Ah, right—scholarly matters.” Situ Yang casually pulled a book from the table and began flipping through it in an exaggerated show of study, while his eyes kept darting toward the doorway.

“You’re holding the book upside down.”

Situ Yang blanched and immediately laughed it off with an awkward grin: “I was testing you, obviously. Not bad, not bad, you know your stuff…” And with that, he turned the book right side up.

“Actually,” Pei Shaohuai said, “the way you have it now is the one that’s upside down.”

Situ Yang: …

As far as Situ Yang the person went, Pei Shaohuai did not dislike him. His speech and conduct might be coarse and unrefined, and he was given to idle pleasures without much ambition—but he had never done anything truly dishonorable, and he was not a bad sort at heart.

It was only Situ Yang’s intention of seeking Lan Jie’er’s hand that gave Pei Shaohuai considerable trouble—for he knew that Lan Jie’er liked gentle and tender-hearted, refined-looking scholars, and would absolutely not take to someone as coarse as Situ Yang.

Seeing Situ Yang’s eyes constantly wandering toward outside, Pei Shaohuai said to him directly: “Young Master Situ need not keep looking—my second elder sister never comes to my courtyard.”

“You’re just a child talking nonsense—that’s not what I meant at all, and don’t go damaging your second sister’s reputation.” Caught out, Situ Yang looked somewhat embarrassed. “I’m just taking a look at the decor of your outer courtyard.”

“Tonight, the theater will be staging a new opera,” Pei Shaohuai mentioned helpfully.

To do more than this was something he would not do. Whether there was any affinity between them—that would be up to them.

Situ Yang’s eyes lit up the moment he heard it, his whole bearing brightening. He snapped his fingers at Pei Shaohuai in a gesture of acknowledgment and said: “It’s getting late—Elder Brother will take his leave for now.”

“Fare well, Grandnephew.”

……

Situ Yang had barely left before Lin Shi arrived. If even the servants could see what was going on, how could it escape her?

Lin Shi asked Pei Shaohuai: “What is this business with the Second Young Master of General Situ’s household?”

“Exactly as Mother is thinking.”

Having her answer, Lin Shi found herself hesitating and troubled. After a long, silent contemplation, she said: “Even if it is a general’s household—with a stepmother like that, and with his background… I dare not let Lan Jie’er marry into such a family.”

It was no wonder Lin Shi spoke this way. Situ Yang’s background was truly full of complications.