Pei Bingyuan drained his cup in one swallow, managed to force out a thin smile, and said, “At my age, squeezing into the Imperial Academy alongside all those young men — I am afraid that would hardly be appropriate.”

Among the ranks of long-established government school students, there were those well past fifty who had only just secured a tribute student slot and entered the Imperial Academy. Pei Bingyuan had not yet reached forty — there were many older than him waiting in line. How could he possibly say it was “hardly appropriate”?

He simply had a thin skin, and had grasped at a reason on the spot.

“No matter, no matter — this need not be decided right away.” Xu senior was not displeased. He knew Pei Bingyuan’s temperament well enough, and added, “Why not take a few more days to consider it, my good in-law. Whenever you have made up your mind, have Zhan Ge’er let me know.”

This was his way of leaving Pei Bingyuan room to maneuver.

After Xu senior departed, Grandfather Pei Pu urged his son: “Bingyuan, three years and three more years — and even if you passed the provincial examinations, there would still be the metropolitan examinations. With so much time spent this way, it would be better to endure three or four years at the Imperial Academy. Once you come out, your rank may be a step lower, but you would be set on an official path all the same.”

A graduate of the Imperial Academy was appointed to the eighth rank.

Pei Pu added, “And those who pass the advanced examinations — if they are not assigned to remain in the capital, they are only given the seventh rank in any case.”

The Old Ancestress also chimed in: “Xu senior means well — it would not do to let his kindness go to waste.”

Their meaning, taken together, was clear: they both hoped that Pei Bingyuan would agree to enter the Imperial Academy to study.

“Father and Mother know this — it is not that I am troubled by the matter itself,” Pei Bingyuan sighed, helpless. “Xu senior is my in-law and already holds the fourth rank. My cousins Bingsheng and Bingming passed the advanced examinations and are now serving in the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Works at the sixth rank. And my old schoolmates — some have passed the provincial examinations and been assigned to posts elsewhere, some gave up their studies long ago and took over the family business. I alone, all these years, have done nothing but sit for these examinations… I became a government school student at sixteen. Now I am approaching forty, and I am to accept a tribute student slot and enter the Imperial Academy for further study. How am I supposed to accept that?”

How could he set aside his dignity — and how could he lay down the obsession — that had defined him for so long? Pei Bingyuan had always felt that he owed himself an accounting.

A heavy silence settled over the hall.

After a long pause, Grandfather Pei finally said, “You have been sitting for these examinations for so many years — that is already enough…”

“It is not enough,” Pei Bingyuan said, his emotions rising. The veins at his temples stood out. “I would rather have people call me a stubborn mule than hear them call me a coward.”

Seeing how things stood, the Old Ancestress came in to smooth things over: “Let us leave it here for today and discuss it again slowly.”

……

That night, it was not only Pei Bingyuan who could not sleep — the small young Pei Shaohuai lay awake as well.

In the original story, there had been no such scene where Xu senior helped Pei Bingyuan secure a tribute student place at the Imperial Academy. Perhaps it was his own arrival in this world that had drawn the Pei and Xu families into a closer relationship, giving rise to this moment.

The people and events around him were shifting in subtle ways. He would face more and more of the unknown as time went on.

Having only just set foot on the path of scholarly study himself, what had happened with his father struck him with considerable force. He could not help but wonder: if it were him in that position, what choice would he make? On one side lay a thorny road he had persisted on through decades of bitter study, the outcome still uncertain. On the other lay an easier path — a fallback, right within reach.

He himself did not know how he would decide. No wonder his father was so torn and uncertain.

What filled Pei Shaohuai’s heart was this one thought alone: cherish the years of youth, be more diligent, lay the groundwork as thoroughly as possible — and perhaps avoid, in this way, finding oneself caught in such a painful dilemma.

……

Two or three more days passed. Pei Bingyuan spent them either alone in his study, or standing before the withered branches and fallen leaves in the courtyard, deep in thought. Still he gave no sign of relenting.

The grandfather and grandmother sighed again and again — their son would not budge, and what could they do? There was nothing to be done.

One day, after Master Cao concluded the lesson, the brothers Huai and Jin did as they always did and stayed on voluntarily, first murmuring their way through their recitation of the Analects, and once they had nearly committed the passages to memory, taking up brush and ink and writing out what they had just memorized — one by one.

Both recitation and calligraphy practice accomplished at once.

The two boys were not in any hurry. They wrote each stroke and line with the utmost care and concentration.

As the slanting sun outside moved gradually, drawing the shadows in the courtyard out longer and longer until they at last crept into the study, the brothers looked up — and discovered their father’s shadow, tall and straight-backed, standing at the window. Pei Bingyuan had been standing there in silence for some time, his hands clasped behind his back, quietly watching the brothers as they memorized their texts and practiced their writing.

It was as though he were seeing the image of himself reading and writing as a young boy.

“Father.” The two brothers rose to greet him.

“I have disturbed your studies,” he said.

“Not at all.”

Seeing his two young sons — genuinely gifted and yet so diligent — Pei Bingyuan was moved with deep pride and contentment. He smiled, and the furrow that had creased his brow slowly eased open. He asked, “Which volume of the Analects have you reached?”

Jin Ge’er did not want to be the first to answer, and instead gave his elder brother’s sleeve a quiet tug.

Huai Ge’er answered honestly: “My younger brother has already completed all four volumes. I am a good deal slower than he is — I have only reached the Weizheng Chuan Cheng – Chapter of the third volume.”

“The Weizheng chapter?” Pei Bingyuan had not forgotten it. He recited in a measured tone: “The Master said — at fifteen, I set my heart upon learning. At thirty, I stood firm…” His voice trailed off slowly.

Huai Ge’er then followed naturally from where his father had left off, reciting in his small, clear voice: “At forty, I had no doubts. At fifty, I understood the will of Heaven. At sixty, my ear was an obedient organ for the reception of truth. At seventy, I could follow what my heart desired, without transgressing what was right.”

It was all perfectly timed. Pei Bingyuan had happened to come just then, and Huai Ge’er had happened to be on exactly this passage.

Pei Bingyuan picked up the sheet of paper on which Huai Ge’er had been transcribing, and saw these very lines written upon it. The old Confucian master had only told the world: at fifteen, set your heart upon learning; at thirty, stand firm. People tend to overlook what lay between those two numbers — the space of fifteen to thirty, rendered in a few brief strokes of the brush. Yet for a person living through it, that was a long, long span of fifteen years.

From the spirited young scholar he had once been, to the middle-aged man who had, bit by bit, drawn himself inward.

These were lines he had read hundreds of times. Yet now, in this moment, they caused something to give way quietly inside Pei Bingyuan’s chest.

“Very good,” Pei Bingyuan said with praise. “Continue with your studies. I will not disturb you further.”

“Yes.”

……

The following morning, the Earl’s residence had a carriage prepared. Pei Bingyuan went in person to the Xu family and agreed to the Imperial Academy matter.

When he returned home, he explained his decision to his father: “The children Huai’er and Jin’er at home are rare and gifted scholars. Let them carry forward the aspirations I never fulfilled, and accomplish what I never managed to achieve. Whatever glory they attain in the future will be my glory as well. I have already reached this age — it is time I tried walking a different road.”

Grandfather Pei said with warm relief, “As long as you have been able to think it through, that is well.”

A little more than a month later, the day came when Pei Bingyuan set out for the Imperial Academy to begin his studies. Though both places lay within the capital, the Academy had its own rules — once enrolled, a student could only return home on the first and fifteenth days of each month when leave was permitted.

After taking his leave of his parents, Pei Bingyuan said to Lin Shi, “These years, it has been hard on you to manage this household with such care.”

“It is my duty — please do not let it weigh on you, my husband.”

Finally, Pei Bingyuan said to the brothers Huai and Jin: “While I am away, you are to listen to your grandfather, listen to your tutors, study hard without slacking. What can be done today must never be put off until tomorrow.”

“We understand, Father,” the two brothers replied.

……

Life in the Earl’s residence went on as it always had.

Ying Jie’er was three years older than Pei Shaohuai, making her nine years old now — already half-grown. Her looks and bearing grew more striking with each passing day. In her daily life, she favored garments of pale green and had no fondness for the fussy or elaborate, which only made her natural beauty appear all the more innate and unadorned.

As she grew older, her personality became more apparent as well.

She and Zhu Jie’er had already learned all their characters under their female tutor. Lin Shi then began making inquiries among the various households and engaged experienced older governesses to help the two young ladies refine and polish their conduct and bearing. Female tutors who taught the arts of music, chess, painting, and calligraphy came in rotation as well.

Lin Shi had put considerable thought and effort into all of this — yet Ying Jie’er remained thoroughly indifferent.

One day, Ying Jie’er was out in the rear courtyard with her maidservants, tending to the various plants and herbs she had been growing there, busily and happily occupied.

Before long, Lin Shi came hurrying over, calling out even from a distance: “I knew I would find you here. The female tutor only just left, and Zhu Jie’er is still in her room continuing to practice the zither — yet the moment her back was turned, you slipped away and came here to fuss over these plants and herbs again.”

“Mother, I have already done what I promised you — I attended the lesson and practiced the zither properly. Why are you going back on your word and coming here to discipline me again?” Ying Jie’er muttered, pouting.

“Then tell me this: it has been more than half a month, and why is there not a hint of improvement in your zither playing?”

Ying Jie’er countered: “Learning something does not mean understanding it, and understanding it does not mean being able to play it. Progress in zither takes time — it cannot be rushed in a single morning. Mother, you work so hard every day — please do not tire yourself out worrying over my affairs.” Even as she spoke, the small trowel in her hand did not pause in loosening the soil around the yellow herb.

Lin Shi looked at her daughter’s sharp and mischievous manner and felt equal parts exasperation and fond amusement. She said, “The female tutor I went to all that trouble to find for you — you have not seriously taken up a single one of the arts she teaches. Meanwhile Third Sister, in contrast, has taken to every one of them and shows real aptitude in all.”

“That is because Zhu Elder Sister has talent and works hard,” Ying Jie’er said.

Lin Shi continued: “If you are unwilling to learn these things — then very well, start following me early and learn how to manage the household’s affairs. Otherwise you will grow up not knowing how to do anything.”

This was not the first time Lin Shi had said these words to Ying Jie’er — she had heard them so many times she could practically recite them in her sleep.

Ying Jie’er carried a small porcelain pot over to the shaded corner by the wall, set it down carefully, and replied as she worked: “If Mother is thinking of taking me to the country estate or the herb gardens outside the city, or to the medicinal shop in the southern part of the city, to learn how things are managed there — I would be more than happy to go. But if what Mother means by ‘managing things’ is sitting inside all day long, going over account books from morning till night — I am afraid the account books might know me, but I doubt I would know them.”

Then, with a small smile, Ying Jie’er added: “Come to think of it, if Mother wants to teach someone accounting and arithmetic, why not go to Zhu Elder Sister instead? The last time Third Cousin came to visit us, she was demonstrating the abacus, and I noticed Zhu Elder Sister standing beside Concubine Shen with her eyes fixed so intently you would have thought they were about to fall out of her head. If Concubine Shen had not been there keeping her in check, she would probably have rushed right up to stand beside Third Cousin.”

“Look at you, always so eager to put in a good word for others — yet I see nothing of that same eagerness to be as capable as the Third Young Miss.” Lin Shi said, “I arranged for someone to teach her long ago — I hardly need you to suggest it.”

“I am Mother’s own daughter by birth, not Zhu Elder Sister’s — so of course I do not have that same drive and ambition of hers.”

“Talking with less and less propriety every day. If someone were to hear you, they would laugh at you.”

Ying Jie’er grinned: “In front of others, I naturally would not say such things. It is only Mother who gets to hear them — and yet Mother still scolds me for it.”

Lin Shi was charmed into laughter by her daughter despite herself, and stopped scolding. After a short while, she said with a touch of worry: “Ying’er, your zither playing will not improve, your painting will not come along — your reading is passable, at least. How am I ever going to find you a proper match when the time comes?”

“Last time, when my younger brother was asking me for a bowl of lotus soup, he said there would always be a household somewhere that does not look at zither or painting,” Ying Jie’er replied, entirely persuaded by her brother’s reasoning. She added, “My younger brother also said that if no such household exists, he would stand up for me himself — and whichever household I set my heart on, he would make sure they stopped looking at zither and painting.”

“Your younger brother is so small, and here you are already plotting to make use of him,” Lin Shi teased.

“Well — he is my younger brother, after all.”

Ying Jie’er carefully scooped some moist soil into a small porcelain pot and gently planted a tiny green seedling into it.

“And what are you planting this time?”

“Gotu kola that my younger brother dug up and brought back for me.”