Inside Donglin Academy’s Chongwen Hall, several students clustered eagerly around the desk, hurrying to unseal the letter signed “Northern Traveler,” jostling close together to read the essay at the same time.

They were Cui Zhengyi, Cheng Si, Qiao Shanji, Tian Yonglu, and Li Shengyan — the five young men who managed the Chongwen Literary Society and were known within Donglin Academy as the Five Scholars of Chongwen. Among them, Cui Zhengyi served as the society’s president and had been the top graduate of last year’s Southern Metropolitan Region provincial examination.

The five men pooled resources each month to compile and edit essays into a collection, which was then sent to a bookshop to be typeset and printed. Copies were either distributed to the society’s members for study or forwarded to other academies and schools for mutual exchange and learning.

This meant the five were not only academically accomplished but also men of considerable means.

When they had finished reading, none could bring himself to set it down.

Deputy President Cheng Si was the first to speak: “Northern Traveler’s brushwork is exceptionally confident and well-grounded. Truly another fine essay. In my view, this piece deserves to be placed at the head of this month’s Records of Chongwen.“

Since last October, a student using the pen name “Northern Traveler” had submitted one policy essay every month without fail. His diction had a certain classical quality, yet without the heaviness that classical prose often carries; in its place was a freshness and elegance. Read carefully, every line concealed a blade’s edge beneath the graceful surface.

A style like this was genuinely rare and prized.

Tian Yonglu admired this Northern Traveler enormously. He declared: “Within the academy, everyone strives for piercing, incisive policy essays — the kind where every line strikes like a knife or an arrow, as though only sharpness can carve itself into the reader’s heart. Northern Traveler has given us an entirely new model: the velvet blade is the sharpest of all. This essay, line by careful line, dismantles the abuses of powerful men hoarding land until there is nothing left of their position to defend.”

The others all nodded in agreement. Li Shengyan laughed: “Brother Tian, I have never once seen you yield to anyone — Northern Traveler really is one of a kind.” In matters of literature, there is no single first place; every student’s writing has its own strengths, and to make a truly gifted student genuinely concede to another is no small feat.

“He can write essays like this — he deserves my admiration and respect,” said Tian Yonglu, opening his folding fan, upon which the four characters “Learning Has No End” were inscribed. He then jokingly said of himself: “If I had been born a pretty young woman, I would have sought out a man like Northern Traveler as my husband — fine writer, a man of insight, and one who does not shy away from difficult matters.”

He pointed at the essay and speculated: “Judging from his writing, he is probably the kind of person who, in daily life, appears a gentle and unassuming gentleman — seemingly soft as water, harmless to man and beast — when in truth he is keen-edged all over.”

The others laughed heartily. One said: “The way you describe him, Yonglu, it is as if you know him personally — for all we know, this Northern Traveler could be some sixty-year-old old scholar.”

Tian Yonglu retorted briskly: “Northern Traveler writes policy essays every single time. Obviously he is practicing for the metropolitan examination and palace examination three years from now. What old scholar does that? This person must be one of the formidable competitors in the next metropolitan examination — senior brothers, you had better watch out.”

Cheng Si then asked the society president, Cui Zhengyi: “Senior Brother Cui, what is your opinion of this essay?”

Cui Zhengyi deliberated at length before speaking: “My view differs somewhat from Yonglu’s. The diction and technique are distinctive, but they do not carry particular advantage in the metropolitan examination. It is not something to be encouraged: the scholars who have won top marks in successive metropolitan examinations have been known for incisive, piercing prose, which indicates that chief examiners favor that style.”

He hesitated briefly, then continued: “In my view, placing it at the head of the collection is still inadvisable. What if the members read it and all begin to imitate the style? That could very well backfire. The literary society cannot afford to take on that responsibility. It is a fine essay — the thinking is fresh and inventive — but for the sake of caution, it would be better placed at the end.”

The other three thought it over and agreed. Only Tian Yonglu lost his enthusiasm entirely, falling silent.

To ease the atmosphere, Cheng Si produced another letter with a pleased look on his face. “Besides Northern Traveler, our ‘Southern Hermit’ has also written in — and he has sent a painting as well.”

The Southern Hermit did not write proper examination-style prose. He was more inclined to analyze and appreciate other people’s essays — pointing out each allusion cited within, unraveling the deeper meaning behind the lines. He had the manner of a broadly learned scholar.

Whenever the Southern Hermit offered his commentary on the Records of Chongwen, the director of Donglin Academy read it and praised it as perceptive and well-aimed. And so, the Southern Hermit’s writings were always selected for inclusion.

The five men eagerly tore open the envelope to see whose essay the Southern Hermit had “chosen” this time. When the letter was unfolded, Tian Yonglu immediately revived with delight: “The Southern Hermit has chosen Northern Traveler again! Three consecutive issues now!” He looked as though he had found a kindred soul.

Cui Zhengyi was somewhat disappointed.

The Southern Hermit had written in his final summary assessment of the essay: “The excellence of Northern Traveler’s essays lies in their diction, reasoning, spirit, and measure. His diction is subtle yet reveals firmness and distinction; his reasoning runs deep yet encompasses broad vistas; his spirit sustains itself throughout with richness and purity; his measure reveals a love of the people that is profound and a love of the nation that is encompassing. The essay has the quality of natural completion — a masterpiece found by chance.”

They unrolled the Southern Hermit’s painting, and before their eyes stretched the winding great river surging eastward, the roiling, urgent rush of its current fully rendered. Looking more closely, they could see a government official standing at the riverbank, dressed in the turquoise-blue official robes embroidered with the silver pheasant, leading the common people in raising the height of the embankment.

The rushing torrent of the river. The smallness of the common people. Set against one another, the composition became a painting.

Was this not a portrait of the Prefect himself? The matter was well known throughout Suzhou Prefecture — to take up large-scale embankment construction the moment he assumed his post, guarding against summer floods, had earned Prefect Pei deep gratitude from the people of Taicang.

Tian Yonglu exclaimed: “It seems this Southern Hermit is a man of feeling as well.” He proposed: “I would like to fund the woodblock printing of this painting for inclusion at the back of the Records of Chongwen — it would complement Northern Traveler’s essay perfectly. What do the senior brothers think?”

Cheng Si said: “This painting uses a rich range of colors. To print it by woodblock, you would need six or seven separate color plates just to reproduce four or five tenths of its spirit. Brother Tian, do think it through before spending that much silver.”

Cui Zhengyi shook his head. “Even setting aside the cost, woodblock printing of this nature takes more than half a month. This issue of the collection cannot wait that long.”

“Is that any concern at all?” Tian Yonglu said dismissively. “As long as you spend enough silver, there are always skilled craftsmen who can shorten the timeframe. Even if I had to have every copy painted by hand, one by one, I would make sure it did not delay the publication of the collection.”

“This is no small matter. Best to consult the academy director first,” said Cui Zhengyi.

This time, Tian Yonglu did not back down. “Fine. I will seek the director’s counsel this afternoon.”

The matter ended on a somewhat sour note. Cheng Si again tried to smooth things over by bringing up the recently arrived top graduate from the Northern Metropolitan Region, using him as a new topic of conversation. “Has everyone heard? Since that Pei top graduate joined the academy, no one has yet seen him write a single essay. What he does every day is run to the Notable Essays Board to copy down sentences.” The Notable Essays Board was the place where Donglin Academy specifically posted model essays by students, each having been carefully annotated and revised by an instructor before being displayed.

Cheng Si’s words dripped with mockery.

“He must never have seen so many fine essays before, and is rushing to copy them down so he can adapt them for use in the metropolitan examination.”

“If he had real ability, he would not have needed to travel a thousand li south to study here.”

Qiao Shanji and Li Shengyan chimed in with their own smug comments.

“The man is diligently seeking knowledge. There is really no need for us to mock him,” Tian Yonglu said. He continued: “His father abides by his duty and serves the people; his son enters the academy and applies himself to his studies. What right do we have to gossip about them? Does it mean Donglin Academy lacks even this much tolerance? Can any of the senior brothers say with confidence that their essays are better than his?”

He was plainly angry.

Cheng Si said by way of explanation: “We were merely chatting privately for a bit of amusement. Brother Tian, there is no need to take it so seriously.”

“Why does Senior Brother Cheng not chat about himself for amusement?”

“Enough,” said Cui Zhengyi in a thundering voice. “Is an outsider worth the trouble of souring the fellowship between us?”

Nearly ten days later, the newest issue of the Records of Chongwen was printed and bound with thread. Inside Donglin Academy, after class was dismissed, the students gathered in groups of three and five, taking turns reading through the collection. Whenever they came across a fine passage, someone would recite it aloud so that everyone could savor each word together.

This eagerness for learning moved Pei Shaohuai deeply. No wonder the world said that the culture of letters flourished in Jiangnan.

He was heading, as he often did, to the Notable Essays Board to read the essays — only a few remained, and he would have finished the entire wall of essays at last.

One place begets one kind of person, and one kind of essay. The students of the Southern Metropolitan Region had a knack for ingenious approaches to opening an essay, and their line of argument flowed as smoothly as water. There was genuinely much here worth learning and borrowing.

He was about to leave when Tian Yonglu walked over and offered a greeting: “Junior Brother Pei.”

Pei Shaohuai returned the courtesy: “Senior Brother Tian.” Though he had little interaction with the others, he had still made the effort to politely memorize the names of his classmates.

Tian Yonglu enthusiastically produced a copy of the Records of Chongwen and handed it to Pei Shaohuai, recommending it warmly and saying that the essays within were even finer than those on the Notable Essays Board. He then turned the pages to the essay near the end and pointed to Northern Traveler’s piece: “This essay is the gem of this entire collection. I urge Junior Brother Pei to read it carefully.”

Pei Shaohuai looked at the essay and froze. He was supposed to read his own essay? Then he noticed the expectant look in Tian Yonglu’s eyes — he was waiting for Pei Shaohuai to read it then and there.

Difficult to refuse such warm hospitality. Pei Shaohuai had no choice but to pretend to flip through it casually, and in doing so happened upon the painting attached after the essay. It startled him with its quality.

He read to the end.

“What does Junior Brother Pei think of it?” Tian Yonglu asked.

Pei Shaohuai was in an awkward position again — was he to praise himself? And the time would come eventually when he must remove his disguise; if he praised it lavishly now, would people not think him self-congratulatory? So he could only manage a vague: “Read at a glance — it is passable,” hoping to brush it aside.

“Passable?”

Tian Yonglu repeated the word: “In Junior Brother Pei’s estimation, Northern Traveler’s essay is merely passable?” He had come with a sincere and enthusiastic recommendation, only to receive the word “passable” in return, and he could not help feeling somewhat put out.

Pei Shaohuai said modestly: “Perhaps I read too quickly and have not yet fully grasped the deeper meaning.”

Seeing that Pei Shaohuai’s manner was genuine, Tian Yonglu’s expression softened somewhat. Being a straightforward person, he had no intention of simply “letting Pei Shaohuai off the hook” and said: “Junior Brother Pei’s essays must certainly have their own merits. I wonder if Brother Tian might beg a few to take home and study?” He wanted to see for himself what sort of ability Pei Shaohuai had, to dare call Northern Traveler’s essay merely passable.

Pei Shaohuai understood the implication.

He did have one finished essay in his bookbag that he had been planning to go home and revise further before submitting it to the Chongwen Literary Society. At the moment, it would have to serve as an improvised response.

Tian Yonglu wore the expression of someone thinking “let us see what kind of essay you can actually write,” and as he took the paper and began reading on the spot, his expression changed at the very first line. On the page was written: “It is not that the sages’ teachings have failed to reach all people, but that there are those given to evil who cannot be transformed by them.”

The essay addressed the power of moral cultivation and education — precisely the topic most hotly debated within the academy in recent days. Some had argued: given that the finest schools produce no small number of deeply wicked men, does this not suggest that the sages’ teachings are useless?

It was a provocative question.

Tian Yonglu read the entire essay through, and the further he read the better he found it — he had already forgotten about Pei Shaohuai’s comment regarding Northern Traveler.

“What does Senior Brother Tian think of it?” Pei Shaohuai asked.

Tian Yonglu came back to himself, was on the verge of lavishing it with praise, then caught himself and said: “Pass… passable.” The style was exactly the kind he liked.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Pei Shaohuai took his leave and returned home.

Inside Chongwen Hall, the Five Scholars of Chongwen found themselves short one fine essay that month — Northern Traveler had not submitted anything. The collection still had a gap to fill.

After deliberating for some time, Tian Yonglu decided to recommend Pei Shaohuai’s essay. “Since we are here to study the art of letters, we should set aside our preconceptions. I believe Junior Fellow Pei’s essay is every bit as fine as Northern Traveler’s, and it can serve as a replacement.”

The quality of the essay was persuasive enough to convince the others.

Half a month later, the Southern Hermit wrote in and chose Pei Shaohuai’s essay, writing: “This person’s essays bear a distinct resemblance to Northern Traveler’s.”