Chapter 95: The Tiger of the Xie Family

The twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month. The hour of Si, just midday.

At the villa on South Mountain, beside the Pavilion of the Spring of Strings.

On the first day, Master Guo would lecture on "The Urgent Compilation," and the following day, Master Zuo would lecture on "The Extended Elegance." This order continued without change until the disciples passed their examinations.

Among them, including Wang Ge, there were eleven official pupils. From this day forth, they were addressed as disciples or female disciples of the Xie Family Primary School. They sat in rows of three, three, three, and two, with Wang Ge and Huzi seated at the last row. Of those in front, the oldest was four years old, the youngest three.

"The Urgent Compilation, strange and unique among all, lists names and objects, distinguishes by category without confusion, concise and clear for daily use, strive with diligence and surely find delight, now let us recite the text..."

The sound of recitation echoed from the first moment of dawn, repeating without pause. Even from the furthest distance, Master Guo could see clearly; while Wang Ge seemed to stretch her neck and recite along, at times she only mouthed the words without uttering a sound.

"Stop. The rest of you remain silent. Wang Ge, recite alone from where we left off."

Oh no, caught red-handed.

Wang Ge first answered, "Yes," swallowed, her voice hoarse and off-key, and began to recite, "Song Yan-nian, Zheng Zi-fang, Wei... hmm, Shou, Shi Bu-chang, Zhou Qian-zhou... wish to demonstrate... alright, dear... wear protective gear..."

"Ha!" At least four or five disciples burst out laughing, shaking with mirth.

Wang Ge's obviously clever recitation trick was one used by noble children when all else failed. Huzi, as her friend, had to force his lips downward to keep from joining in the laughter.

"Enough," Master Guo leaned lazily against his armrest, lightly tapping the bamboo ruler in his left hand on the desk. "Step forward and accept your punishment."

"Yes." Wang Ge rose under many gazes, knelt opposite the master, and extended her right palm.

"Other hand," said Master Guo.

"Yes." The master’s memory was impeccable; he always struck her left hand.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Return to your seat."

"Yes."

As Wang Ge moved, she tried not to glance at the crowd of listeners outside the pavilion—layer after layer of students from the Xie clan, relatives, and guests by privilege, young and old alike. Their positions outside the pavilion were determined by arrival, not status. If anyone argued over rank, regardless of reason, they were expelled.

This was Wang Ge’s third punishment, and each time the number of strikes grew. It was not that she was dull; rather, the other pupils had already memorized "The Urgent Compilation" by Shi You before entering the school.

The entire text was composed in verse, rhymed at intervals of three, four, and seven words per line. Today they only recited three-character names, all invented, with surnames and given names rhymed by line—far more difficult than the "Three Character Classic" she had memorized in her previous life.

Moreover, in ancient times, the master taught by having pupils recite aloud and memorize first, then explained. She would recall the later lines but forget the earlier, and so used association techniques. What she couldn’t remember, she glossed over with a vague "hmm."

Master Guo straightened, tapped the bamboo ruler, and all fell silent. He said, "Do not laugh. I ask you all, especially those who laughed loudest just now: When you first recited this text at home, after how many repetitions could you reach ‘wear protective gear’?"

The loudest laughter had come from the girl in the middle of the second row, the same one who had fanned the quiet girl’s waist the previous evening. She was still brightly dressed today, pink and purple, and replied loudly, "Master, I don’t remember. But I was surely not as good as her."

Master Guo thought: Not as good, yet so loud.

"Master, I was about the same as Wang Ge."

"Master, I was not as good as her."

"Master, I was slightly better than Wang Ge."

Master Guo nodded in satisfaction, "Hmm," and asked, "What about Huzi?"

"Master, I didn’t laugh just now."

Master Guo knew Huzi’s background and wanted to use him to temper the arrogance of the front row, but the Xie family's Huzi was clever, adept at concealing his abilities. "Very well. Now, let us analyze the characters. The ‘gu’ in the first sentence refers to a record tablet, also called ‘gudu’. Lu Ji’s ‘Essay on Literature’ mentions ‘holding the gu to write freely’; ‘holding the gu’ means ‘taking up the brush to write’. The ‘gudu’ could have six or eight faces, each for writing, hence also called ‘writing gu’. In Han times, the ‘writing gu’ could be prismatic, with three to seven sides. It was used both for student exercises and official documents..."

Wang Ge focused intently, and Master Guo’s presence grew grand in her eyes, becoming almost ethereal and wise, every word a gem!

Was this the power of language?

A single character, "lamp," or "gu," could transport people of today back to the past, a sense of exploring the roots of words across the veil of time, side by side with the ancients, feeling a strange and sacred connection!

Just the "gu" character alone took Master Guo until midday. When the attendant brought lunch boxes, all eleven disciples ate quickly at their seats, none had time for conversation, not even Wang Ge and Huzi. Each opened their scrolls, searching for the morning’s recitation.

In the afternoon, Master Guo allowed them to consult their scrolls as he led them through the first part again. After five repetitions, he explained the character "ce."

"The ‘ce’ in ‘mixed ce’ originally means ‘toilet’, pronounced like ‘side’. From the pronunciation comes the meaning ‘mixed’, as in the second sentence of the text. But here, it should be read as ‘ci’!"

Wang Ge quickly carved "mixed ce read as mixed ci" onto her blank bamboo slip.

Master Guo added, "‘Ce’ also has a third pronunciation, like ‘si’, for example in ‘maosi’ (latrine)."

Wang Ge was stunned!

‘Maosi’ pronounced as ‘maosi’? Good heavens! She quickly carved this down; this was important. Luckily, at home they always called it the ‘privy’.

Master Guo walked over, glanced briefly at her rough, swollen hand with a fleeting look of pity, picked up her oddly carved but discernible characters, and asked, "Have you learned characters before?"

Wang Ge stood properly, "Master, there was a gentleman in my village who could read, and I learned some characters from him."

"Good, sit down. If you ever get confused or don’t understand, feel free to ask the other disciples." As he returned her bamboo slip, he squinted and gestured toward Huzi.

"Yes, Master Xie." Wang Ge sat down happily.

As the golden rays faded and the attendant entered to bow, it was time for dismissal at the beginning of the evening hour.

Wang Ge and Huzi had just stepped out from the pavilion when a sturdy woman in coarse clothing approached and asked, "Are you Wang the artisan? I am the craftswoman from the Heavenly Cart Workshop, sent by the chief to bring you to the workshop."

Huzi pulled Wang Ge back, so they no longer had to look up at the woman, and coldly asked, "Each workshop has several chiefs. Which chief sent you?"

The woman replied proudly, "The chief of the Heavenly Cart Workshop... the general chief."

"Xie Tangzhou! Ha, I guessed as much! Go back and tell him... Wang the artisan was invited by the Xie family, not seeking favor from them! If he can’t figure out the mechanism of the waterwheel right before his eyes, then he should find another place to work! Hey, Sister Ge, let’s go, I’m starving."

"Let’s go." Wang Ge took his cold little hand, and once they were far from the craftswoman, she slowed and thanked him, "Thank you, Huzi."

"I should be the one thanking you. Lady Wang, let us be properly introduced—I am Xie Ju. Ju, as in stability. Huzi is my childhood name."

(End of this chapter)