15 An Old Friend Visits

“The key to bringing peace to the world lies in governing one’s own state: when the elders are respected, the people cherish filial piety; when the elders are honored, the people practice brotherly love; when the lonely and orphaned are cared for, the people will not betray one another. Thus, the gentleman follows the principle of proper measure and balance.

What one dislikes in a superior should not be imposed on one’s subordinates; what one dislikes in subordinates should not be shown to one’s superiors; what one dislikes in those before should not be followed by those after; what one dislikes in those after should not be copied from those before; what one dislikes on the right should not be mingled with those on the left; what one dislikes on the left should not be mingled with those on the right. This is called the path of proper measure and balance.”

Wei Guangde sat in the classroom, nodding his head as he recited the Great Learning. Within just over ten days, he had memorized the entire text, and Master Sun had also provided detailed explanations and annotations.

Reviewing the old to understand the new, until Master Sun assigned new texts, these past few days were spent repeatedly revisiting the same material.

As usual, after quizzing the students on their knowledge, Master Sun began to teach new concepts. However, for Wei Guangde’s cohort, having just completed a book, the master had no further lessons to impart for the moment, only requiring them to write out the entire Great Learning from memory during class.

Near the afternoon’s end, Master Sun gathered Wei Guangde’s students and informed them that the next day they would begin studying the Analects, and they should bring their copies with them.

When purchasing the books initially, the Four Books had cost two taels of silver, also bought from Master Sun.

To facilitate the students’ acquisition of texts, the private school naturally stocked some copies, though they were free to buy from other bookstores.

This was more a polite formality, however—after all, this was just a small town, hardly a place where bookstores thrived. The county seat did have some, but it was quite distant.

Fortunately, the prices at Master Sun’s school were comparable to those in the county bookstores; essentially, he charged a small fee to cover travel expenses, so most students bought from him.

Although movable type printing was invented during the Song dynasty, this did not mean the cost of books had dropped significantly.

In this era, the printing and production of books remained expensive, so ordinary people could hardly afford to buy them.

Two taels of silver—military households in Bengshan Fort could not earn that much cash in a year.

An ordinary soldier’s family, besides receiving some grain and salt from Old Wei, might get less than one tael of silver to buy other necessities.

That was already generous of Old Wei; at least there was some money to see.

According to the Ming military system, each soldier should receive one shi of grain monthly—about ninety-six jin—but this was rarely fulfilled in practice.

The grain for the Bengshan Fort military households came from their own fields; those who harvested more received more, similar to the later system of contracted land tenure, though with a higher tax rate.

These were tenant farmers, but Old Wei did not exploit soldiers as some other garrison commanders did by abusing their military household status; he basically provided grain according to the usual tenant standards, not less.

Many soldiers deserted their posts largely because officers did not regard them as human, not even granting them the minimum rights of common tenant farmers.

Tenant farmers already had a poor lot; registered soldiers were even worse off, unable to choose freely because military status was hereditary, binding generations to serve and suffer exploitation.

The Ming standards for tenant farmers were low, but in good harvest years, they could barely get by; for soldiers, life was much harder.

As Wei Guangde and his classmates prepared to leave the school, Uncle Li, Master Sun’s servant, suddenly rushed in, clutching a notice.

“Master, a revered visitor has come—an immortal elder, who says he is an old acquaintance of yours.”

Li was responsible for the school’s gatekeeping, so naturally he came to inform the master when guests arrived. He now bowed respectfully before Master Sun and handed over the note.

Upon hearing that an old friend had come, Master Sun quickly rose and glanced at the note. His face immediately brightened with joy, and forgetting about Wei Guangde and the others, he hurried out.

“Was there any neglect in receiving him?”

Master Sun asked Uncle Li before leaving.

“I asked him to wait in the gatehouse briefly, then came to inform you.”

Master Sun nodded slightly and strode out, while Uncle Li followed with a slight bow.

“Master’s old friend has come; shall we be dismissed now?” someone among the students whispered.

Although Master Sun had finished addressing them, he did not dismiss the class, leaving the students uncertain whether to stay or go.

“Let’s wait a little longer. If Master has more to instruct, and we all leave now, we might miss something important tomorrow.”

Someone soon answered.

Wei Guangde agreed it made sense. Had Master Sun not left so quickly, he might have asked for clarification then, but he held back, feeling a bit uneasy.

Lately, he hadn’t been beaten, and after half a month of practice, his brushwork had finally improved beyond the level of a crawling dog, though it was still far from good.

Perhaps seeing Wei Guangde lacked a natural gift for calligraphy, Master Sun did not have him learn fancy styles, focusing instead on the official script used in government offices. After all, mastering this style would be useful for future imperial exams and official service.

This was also due to the emperor’s preference: from Zhu Yuanzhang to Zhu Di, their personal tastes had greatly promoted calligraphy, leading to a flourishing of official script during that era.

During the Ming dynasty’s imperial examinations, candidates were required to answer in regular script neatly and uniformly.

Even if one had profound learning, poor handwriting would lead to failure.

This had a significant influence on the artistic style of calligraphy at the time.

Scholars sought neatness and formality—straight horizontal and vertical strokes, orderly and tidy, resembling woodblock printing. This gave rise to the Ming official script style, known as the “Taige style.”

But for Wei Guangde now, the goal was simply to avoid punishment.

Soon they heard voices in the courtyard—Master Sun and another unfamiliar voice chatting happily, footsteps approaching, clearly coming inside.

Wei Guangde and the others immediately stood respectfully again. Concerned that the master might lead his friend to the rear courtyard away from view, Wei Guangde quietly moved closer to the door to be more visible.

Some sentiments, though unspeakable, could still be expressed through subtle gestures.

Master Sun came through the main gate of the school with his friend. He seemed intent on leading him to the back courtyard, but as they passed the door, he noticed Wei Guangde and the students.

“Pack up and go home; remember what I told you,” Master Sun said to the students before the gate.

“These are all disciples of Brother Sun; indeed, each one is a remarkable youth,” the stranger said.

At that moment, Wei Guangde caught sight of the man standing beside Master Sun—a Taoist priest, indeed.

Having been here over a month, this was the first time Wei Guangde had seen someone from outside the secular world.

Though unfamiliar, the man was dignified in appearance, wearing a Taoist cap and a blue robe that looked sharp and spirited.

“They’re all good-for-nothings; a true immortal need not bother with them...”