Chapter Fifteen: The Classic of Filial Piety

Summer night, a single oil lamp.

The flame flickered, barely illuminating the room.

Guo Lin delicately broke off a small piece of Zhang Yue's flower cake, tasting it slowly before pushing the plate aside. "Brother Zhang, I've eaten enough," he said.

"Brother Guo, no need for such courtesy," Zhang Yue replied, pushing the cake back to him. Then, almost to himself, he murmured, "Why is the lamp so dim tonight?"

Guo Lin paused, then quickly adjusted the lamp's iron wick so the flame grew brighter. Zhang Yue also moved his wooden desk closer to Guo Lin's, preparing to work on tonight's assignments.

The two drew nearer, and Guo Lin finished another half piece of cake—clearly, he was truly full. Zhang Yue took a piece for himself and remarked, "If you don't eat more, how will you stave off hunger tonight?"

Guo Lin replied, "I’ve always been like this. If hunger becomes unbearable, I just press a stone to my belly."

Zhang Yue nearly choked on his cake with laughter—wasn’t this the ‘stone cuisine’ he’d heard of?

Guo Lin didn’t understand why Zhang Yue laughed, but he smiled as well.

Zhang Yue continued copying his book, and the two chatted idly, sometimes exchanging a few words, sometimes falling silent.

By the time Zhang Yue had copied half the Thousand Character Classic, his eyelids drooped, sleep tugging at him. Last night, the mosquitoes had kept him awake; today, he desperately needed rest.

It was well known that Zhang Yue rarely managed to sleep enough, even six hours a day.

"I can’t go on—I need to sleep," Zhang Yue said, setting down his brush.

Guo Lin hesitated, then asked, "Brother Zhang, should I wake you tomorrow morning?"

"Wake me?"

"You haven’t finished copying the Thousand Character Classic, after all."

"No, I slept poorly last night. Tonight I must sleep thoroughly. Brother Guo, you needn’t wake me early. I’ll explain myself to your father."

Guo Lin felt uneasy, but fulfilling his duty as an elder brother, he asked, "Why do you study, Brother Zhang?"

Zhang Yue rinsed his brush, raised his head, and pondered. "Perhaps to become an official and gain fame," he replied.

Guo Lin was taken aback.

Zhang Yue tucked away his brush and, covering himself with the cloth blanket, asked in return, "Why?"

"Will you answer the examiner thus when you attend the imperial examination?"

Zhang Yue shook his head. "Anyone can boast in front of the examiner, but among brothers, there’s no need for such scheming—it’s too tiring. As the saying goes, ‘The ape’s cry and the crane’s call are without intent, unaware of the traveler passing below.’"

The ape’s cry and the crane’s call are without intent, unaware of the traveler passing below.

Guo Lin savored Zhang Yue’s words. "You truly are from the city, always quoting the classics."

He seemed to understand, but turning his head, he saw Zhang Yue already lying in bed.

Guo Lin paused and said no more.

Zhang Yue closed his eyes. He knew Guo Lin meant well, reminding him to reflect, but every scholar had their own method. He’d heard countless grand theories in his past life, but few fit his own experience.

After a moment’s thought, his mind emptied, and he slipped into sleep.

Instant slumber!

The next morning, after instructing the children, Scholar Guo came to review Zhang Yue’s assignment.

Zhang Yue had only managed to write half the Thousand Character Classic before exhaustion overtook him, and had slept in until the sun was high.

Upon seeing only half the work completed, Scholar Guo scrutinized it for a long while.

"This character is wrong," he said. "It should be ‘pure’—‘women admire purity.’" He corrected the text with his brush.

Zhang Yue expected reproach, but Scholar Guo simply moved on.

After correcting the mistake, Scholar Guo smiled with satisfaction and encouraged Zhang Yue, "Very good, very good, you’ve truly applied yourself."

Was it really so simple? Such low standards—wasn’t he just here to collect tuition?

Zhang Yue felt uneasy.

Yet Scholar Guo never uttered a word of criticism, instead patiently explained the Thousand Character Classic from beginning to end. His instruction was even more earnest than the elementary teacher’s in the city.

Then Scholar Guo taught Guo Lin separately, not allowing Zhang Yue to listen. But when Zhang Yue studied, Guo Lin was permitted to sit nearby. This was not hoarding knowledge, but rather that Guo Lin’s studies were more advanced—like a senior listening to a junior’s lessons, whereas juniors could not attend senior lectures.

Thus, Zhang Yue spent the morning in study. Near noon, Scholar Guo’s wife had prepared the meal and called the two to eat.

Usually, Guo Lin and Zhang Yue ate and studied at the same table to save time.

But today, better dishes were served, so they ate in Scholar Guo’s room.

Zhang Yue received a large bowl of rice, and to his delight, the rice was dry and fluffy! There was a slice of meat atop the rice, its fat soaking in—likely steamed with cured pork so the grease infused the grains.

Zhang Yue’s mouth watered.

Scholar Guo poured himself wine from a bamboo flask, sipping and chatting, asking Zhang Yue how he had been sleeping and whether he was adjusting to life here.

Zhang Yue answered honestly.

Scholar Guo drank and laughed.

Just then, a villager arrived with freshly picked wild vegetables and eels from the stream. Scholar Guo, unconcerned with scholarly airs, invited them to sit and drink at the table.

From their conversation, Zhang Yue learned of families forced to abandon children due to poverty, unable to raise them. From these occasional snippets, Zhang Yue understood that his and Scholar Guo’s lives were already austere, but many others suffered even more.

He glanced at the crippled servant, who squatted in the corner drinking porridge—though today, his porridge was thicker than usual.

The scrawny guard dog at the door also scratched at its food bowl.

Zhang Yue ate with deep satisfaction. In these lean days, there were still moments of sweetness.

After a full meal at noon, drowsiness crept in—hardly ideal for study. Zhang Yue promptly returned to bed for his midday nap, sleeping soundly until night fell.

When he awoke, he saw Guo Lin still diligently copying texts.

Guo Lin, seeing Zhang Yue awake, set down his brush. "Father says you may now study the Classics, beginning with the Classic of Filial Piety, and then progressing step by step."

"Wonderful!" Zhang Yue replied sincerely, delighted. He could finally study the Classics. Once memorized, he could leave this village school and seek a more capable teacher.

Guo Lin said seriously, "Brother Zhang, you’re ten times more gifted than I am. If you apply yourself, you’ll surely achieve fame."

"Brother Guo, you’re too modest. You study well yourself!"

Guo Lin smiled bitterly. "There are many like me in the county. I have nothing to boast of except diligence. In two years, I’ll be sixteen. I know nothing of farm work, so if study yields no prospects, I don’t know how I’ll make a living."

Zhang Yue replied, "It’s no matter. Even if you don’t farm, you could be a bookkeeper."

Guo Lin asked, intrigued, "What is a bookkeeper?"

He truly knew little. Zhang Yue explained, "It’s someone who keeps accounts—just needs to know arithmetic. A good bookkeeper in the county earns four or five strings of coins a month and avoids the hardships of field labor."

"Arithmetic—Father never taught me that."

"I’ll teach you!" Zhang Yue said, patting his chest.

"You’ll teach me?" Guo Lin was surprised.

"My family trades; arithmetic is nothing difficult," Zhang Yue laughed. "But my foundation in the Classics is weak, Brother Guo..."

Guo Lin smiled, "No foundation is no trouble, so long as you work hard and I pay extra attention."

"Then the burden on you grows heavier," Zhang Yue said.

The two laughed together.

"If the teacher says I should study the Classic of Filial Piety, where is the book?" Zhang Yue asked.

Guo Lin smiled quietly. "No book needed—I’ll recite it for you."

"What? No book?"

Guo Lin patiently explained, "You heard this morning how the teacher taught the children the Thousand Character Classic and the Hundred Family Surnames. He recites a line, they repeat it. Do this a thousand times, and it’s memorized. Then, even without a book in hand, you have it in your mind."

Zhang Yue smirked inwardly—he only knew the phrase ‘horses in the eye, no horses in the heart.’

He asked, uneasy, "But what if you recite incorrectly? Wouldn’t I learn it wrong?"

Guo Lin shook his head, speaking solemnly, "Not a single word wrong."

He seemed to recall something unpleasant.

"If I miss a word, I miss a meal. Two words, a whole day without food."

Zhang Yue stared, stunned.

"Of course, Brother Zhang, you won’t go hungry, but that’s how it is. Not only the Classic of Filial Piety, but other Classics and essays too. For some books, Father must borrow from villages ten miles away, memorize them, and return them. If the lender is impatient, he copies them overnight. Only in private schools are books kept, but even then, there’s often just one set, shared among classmates."

Studying was truly arduous, Zhang Yue thought with a deep sigh.

"But you must recognize the characters, right?" Zhang Yue asked.

Guo Lin considered. "Father has the Classic of Filial Piety. Once you memorize it thoroughly, he’ll give you the book. Borrowing is just to prevent careless damage. Or sometimes, with the book in hand, you keep putting off reading, and end up never looking at it."

Zhang Yue thought, in his past life, he’d bought countless books he never read—wasn’t that just for show?

Guo Lin continued, "When you have to return the book, you study day and night. Once you’ve mastered it, you can write it out from memory. Then, not only have you copied it, but you can read it at leisure."

Indeed, ‘books cannot be read unless borrowed’—better to borrow than to buy. Some say, once memorized, the book is burned, forcing oneself to study by burning.

Guo Lin’s method—‘no book in hand, but a book in the heart’—proved an excellent way to learn. It seemed the ancients had mastered paperless education long before.

Guo Lin smiled, "Alright, I’ll recite the Classic of Filial Piety for you. My teacher used to recite a line, and I’d repeat it. I learned it in three days—Father praised me for it."

Guo Lin began, "Confucius dwelt, Zengzi attended. The Master said: The former kings possessed supreme virtue and essential principles, thereby harmonizing the world. The people lived in peace, and there was no resentment between high and low. Do you understand?"

Zhang Yue repeated after him.

Guo Lin would recite a line, and Zhang Yue would echo it.

Eighteen chapters in all—it took Zhang Yue a little over an hour.

Guo Lin smiled, "Hard, isn’t it? Reciting is like reading. The first pass is rough, to grasp the whole; then you study and memorize each chapter in detail."

"I learned it in three days. Father praised me for being clever," he said, hinting at how long Zhang Yue might need.

Zhang Yue recalled Ouyang Xiu’s method: recite three hundred words a day, accumulate over time, and in three and a half years, memorize the Classics.

Three hundred words a day is the standard for average talent; half that for lesser ability—one hundred fifty words daily, eventually achieving mastery.

Three hundred words seem few, but the Classic of Filial Piety is written in classical prose, and memorization requires absolute accuracy—not mere short-term retention, but true mastery.

As for how many days it would take to memorize the Classic, Zhang Yue stretched out his hands, showing no concern, though he knew, by his own academic record, he was merely of ordinary ability.

At just over two thousand words, Guo Lin's three-day memorization would be considered exceptional.

After Guo Lin finished reciting, Zhang Yue went to bed early.

In his sleep,

Zhang Yue returned to the daylight scene, hearing Guo Lin’s voice reciting, and himself echoing each phrase.

He marveled that studying in dreams was incomparable to daytime reading—one’s mind wandered, distractions abounded: wind, thunder, hunger, nature’s call. Even without these, fatigue would set in. Yet in dreams, none of these troubles existed.

He also discovered a great advantage to studying in dreams—no oil was wasted lighting lamps.

Upon waking the next day, Zhang Yue checked himself and found he had memorized the entire Classic of Filial Piety!

Guo Lin had taken three days, but he needed only one night!