Chapter 117: Reestablishing the Advanced Self-Evaluation

The next day, just as Xie had said, Master Guo lectured on the "Jiujuzhang" early in the morning, starting precisely at the second quarter of the fifth earthly branch hour and ending at the second quarter of the eleventh hour at noon. In the afternoon, the students were free to engage in their own activities. The following day, Master Zuo would take over to teach the "Erya." This schedule continued uninterrupted until they left the Ancient Tomb Cliff.

What reassured Wang Ge was that the masters permitted the students to climb the mountain under the supervision of their attendants, as long as they avoided the steep slopes of the cliff peaks.

So when noon came, after receiving her wheat cakes and vegetable paste, Wang Ge spread the sauce inside the cakes and, eating as she went, crossed the barricades and climbed upward to gather slender vines.

She sawed the vines, stripped off their outer bark, twisted them into ropes, and once she had bundled a sufficient amount, she tied them together and had the attendant carry them. There were no bamboo groves on this cliff slope, so they could only make wooden tablets, slips, or small wooden containers. Since carrying baskets was prohibited when leaving the study quarters, she first had to weave a basket to hold the wood.

Having gathered nearly enough, Wang Ge took advantage of the attendant's momentary distraction, leapt up, and nimbly climbed to the treetop like a monkey. Perched on a branch, she began sawing wood. The attendant, realizing too late, could only look up and watch closely. In her previous life, Wang Nanxing often followed craftsmen up mountains to saw wood; such skills, like swimming, once learned, were never forgotten.

From a distance, Liu Bo, who had climbed the mountain with others, exclaimed in surprise. He had just seen it was Wang Ge and was startled by her actions.

“Liu, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Liu Bo replied, reassured by the sturdy attendant below, and continued climbing.

After sawing three sections of branches, Wang Ge trimmed off the tips and miscellaneous twigs, then, flexing her mighty left arm to carry two sections and her right arm one, gritted her teeth and encouraged herself, “Let’s go, down the mountain.”

“That’s not allowed; give them to me,” said the attendant.

So Wang Ge swapped loads with the attendant—she carried three bundles of vines, and the attendant bore the three heavy branches. Supporting each other, they descended the cliff slope. Once steady on the ground, the attendant dared to ask, “Wang student, do you also sell firewood for money?”

“Can selling firewood earn money?”

“Yes, the kitchen always collects it; such a bundle can fetch one coin.”

Another good thing! Wang Ge was delighted, though regretting that these three bundles couldn’t be sold, as she didn’t even have a basket woven yet.

Time was truly insufficient. She couldn’t start weaving a basket yet. Liu Bo kept copying texts tirelessly, so urgently that he disregarded her reputation as a young girl, showing just how scarce wooden slips were... and how unscrupulous.

After placing the branches and vines behind the tent, Wang Ge began sawing wood, stripping bark, and making tablets.

“I endure,” she muttered through clenched teeth as she carved wooden slips with swift precision, cursing inwardly. In truth, she was not at a disadvantage—she expended physical effort, but Liu Bo used up ink and brushes.

Ink and brushes were far more precious!

Especially the ink!

Carving, carving, carving... imagining she was carving Liu Bo's...

“Useless pretty boy.”

“Just as shameless as Chixiao.”

Carving, carving, carving...

“Chixiao tricked me with juvenile carp; you harm my reputation. Zhang Wuji’s mother was right—good-looking young men never bring good things.”

“Wang student?” Sima Nandi and Bian Zi, holding hands outside the tent, approached. The latter asked, “What are you doing?”

Wang Ge wiped the sweat from her brow and turned to answer truthfully, “Carving wooden slips for a fellow townsman. You all were informed yesterday.”

Sima Nandi said nothing, pouted, and sat down beside the desk with his head drooping.

Bian Zi said, “Liu student is studying at the university level and knows many characters, so he consumes many wooden slips. If I were him, I’d also want to borrow hometown ties to have a first-class craftsman make slips.”

“That’s true. But hometown or not, I can’t work for free. I must get paid. If he has no money, he promised to copy an extra set for me while copying books,” Wang Ge said, truly appreciating Bian Zi’s tactful intervention, which was neither forced nor at the expense of anyone’s dignity.

Sima Nandi immediately brightened. “Wang student, you and Liu gentleman were alone yesterday discussing wooden slip transactions?”

“Yes. I need to carve and make slips myself, and to practice craftsmanship, making extra slips requires extra effort. If you two come over... just so you know, if you want me to help make slips, I also have to be paid.”

“No, no, the study quarters provide enough,” Sima Nandi hurriedly waved his hand.

“I don’t need any either. I’m drawing more and writing fewer characters now; I don’t need many slips,” Bian Zi added.

The two young ladies quickly left hand in hand, anxious to avoid being extorted.

Wang Ge continued carving slips. There was no standardized size; widths and lengths were defined by one’s writing habits. For cursive script, wider slips were necessary; for clerical script, shorter lengths sufficed.

Though she disliked Liu Bo, she still crafted each slip meticulously, smoothing both sides so both could be written upon. The width was a standard inch, and if the characters were small, two columns could fit. The length was a standard foot.

The process of making slips also helped her become more familiar with the units of foot and inch.

Gradually, she forgot her anger toward Liu Bo. When cutting the slips, she deliberately abandoned the smallest unit, the “fen” (a subdivision), no longer defining the inch by “fen,” instead treating the inch as the smallest unit.

From now on, she set a new self-assessment, advancing in three steps:

When a casual mark equaled the standard “inch,” that was the first step; using the same practice method, successfully treating the “foot” as the smallest unit was the second step; and when she could seamlessly switch between inch and foot measurements, extending up to the “zhang” (ten feet), that was the third step.

Xie Ju arrived. The setting sun cast a warm glow into Wang Ge’s tent, illuminating only her face, the desk, and her hands. It was as if a brushstroke divided her body—the front bathed in soft golden-red light, the back in shadow. She was so focused on making slips—scraping, blowing away wood shavings—oblivious to the coming and going and the noisy surroundings.

This scene reminded Xie Ju of his uncle’s manner when verifying ancient texts.

“Wooden container,” he interrupted her concentration, presenting a wooden container wrapped in layers of hemp cloth, still bearing traces of soil. “The characters on it may be from the ‘Yuanli Chapter,’ exceedingly rare. Return it to me at breakfast tomorrow.”

After Xie Ju left, Wang Ge stared dumbfounded, hesitant to touch the container. The six chapters of the “Yuanli” were written by Zhao Gao, the chariot official of the Qin dynasty, and served as an early primer for literacy during Qin times.

Heavens, no matter who the tomb owner was, this was genuine ancient artifact! And Xie Ju, this prodigal, just entrusted it to her!

This container had seven sides and was made from poplar wood. The narrowest side bore only two characters; if Xie Ju hadn’t mentioned the “Yuanli Chapter,” Wang Ge would never have guessed what those characters meant.

If, during the craftsman’s qualification exam, all the mold explanations were in such seal script, wouldn’t she have to keep drumming her hometown’s name? Repeating over and over: “Buzhi village, illiterate... Buzhi village, illiterate?”

Her basket was still unstarted; she had only made about a dozen wooden slips for Liu Bo, and she had to return this wooden container by morning. Wang Ge fretted again—time was truly too scarce!

Soon it was time for evening meal distribution, but she didn’t go, unwilling to waste even a moment. Xie Ju, understanding her well, brought her food and even some beeswax candles.

Beeswax candles were the earliest form of candles in ancient times.

When the beeswax candle was lit, Wang Ge’s first thought was: how extravagant! This burning was not wax but money!

By then, Wang Ge had replicated five standardized seven-sided wooden containers. Without hesitation, she picked up her carving knife and began engraving the small seal character “Yuan.”

Xie Ju asked, “Five containers, Miss Ge. Besides you and me, who else are the others for? Care to tell me?”

(End of chapter)