Chapter Fourteen: Old Yao the Ox

Deer Mountain Academy was jointly funded and established by several local gentry of Xiaohe Township, yet it ultimately became one of the achievements credited to the county magistrate of Tangyin. This, however, had its advantages: Deer Mountain Academy was incorporated as one of the eight primary schools affiliated with the county academy, transforming into an official government school. Studying here meant gaining connections within the county academy’s network.

Unlike the martial spirit of the Tang Dynasty, the Song Dynasty placed great emphasis on scholarly pursuits, and Tangyin County was especially rich in literary culture. Families with modest means in Xiaohe Township all sent their children to study here.

The academy was divided into three classrooms—advanced, intermediate, and elementary—based on the students’ academic levels, but all were taught by a single master. The term “master” reflected the Song Dynasty’s reverence for teachers, likening them to one’s father. The master of Deer Mountain Academy was Yao Ding, a scholar who had passed the provincial civil service exam. Originally, he taught at the county academy, but due to his stubborn temper and frequent quarrels with the county’s education official, and being a native of Xiaohe Township himself, the education official assigned him to Deer Mountain Academy.

Yao Ding was in his fifties, lean to the point of seeming gaunt, yet remarkably vigorous. He was famously sharp and strict at the county academy, earning the nickname “Old Ox Yao.”

At that moment, in the master’s classroom, Master Yao was questioning the newly enrolled student, Li Yanqing.

“What is your name?”

“I am Li Yanqing, from Li Village.”

Yao Ding shot him a sharp glance. “I didn’t ask where you are from. Answer only what I ask, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Li Yanqing lowered his head reluctantly.

“Do you have a courtesy name?”

“Not yet.”

“Hm, that’s not urgent; you can choose one before you turn twenty. Now tell me, why do you want to study here?”

This was a standard question posed to every new student. Answers varied according to their backgrounds—most repeated their parents’ ambitions: to pass the imperial exams, to become officials and wealthy. A rare few, with loftier ideals, would say they studied to serve the emperor and country.

But Li Yanqing himself wasn’t sure why he wanted to study. Deep down, he resisted the imperial examination system; he had no desire to top the lists. The lure of officialdom and wealth was somewhat tempting, but when he thought of the iron hoof of the Jin invaders sweeping across the north in fifteen years, all ambition faded.

“I want to read more books!” That seemed a reasonable answer—reading itself was a great pleasure.

Yao Ding, perhaps hearing such a reply for the first time, tilted his head and studied Li Yanqing for a long moment, intrigued. “Have you studied before?”

“I read a few books at home.”

“Very well! Recite a passage from the Analects.”

Li Yanqing had already sensed the master’s strictness. Despite being only six years old, he was not simply sent to the elementary classroom but subjected to an entrance test tailored to his level.

At a nearby table, with paper and brush ready, Li Yanqing sat upright and asked, “Master, which passage shall I recite?”

Yao Ding was taken aback. “You can recite any passage?”

“Yes, sir, all of them.”

Yao Ding was astonished. He must test him thoroughly another day. Stroking his beard, he said, “Then recite the passage about Gongye Chang.”

Li Yanqing wrote:

The Master said of Gongye Chang: “He is fit to be a husband. Though he was imprisoned, it was not for his own fault.” He married his son to Gongye Chang’s daughter.

The Master said of Nan Rong: “If the state has virtue, it will not be abandoned; if not, it escapes punishment.” He married his nephew to Nan Rong’s daughter.

...

Yao Ding stood beside him, nodding silently. The boy’s handwriting was neat. At six, he could recite the entire Analects, clearly from a scholarly family.

Thinking of family background, Yao Ding smiled and asked, “Yanqing, who is your father?”

“My father is Li Daqi, a member of the Li clan.”

Upon hearing the name Li Daqi, Yao Ding’s expression stiffened. With a snap, he closed the book and strode toward the door, then said coldly, “You will study in the intermediate classroom.”

Li Yanqing was baffled. Had his father offended the master? On their very first meeting, he was given a cold shoulder. Irritated, he strode into the neighboring classroom.

Yao Ding watched his retreating figure and snorted disdainfully.

The intermediate classroom held mostly students aged eight to ten, some thirty or forty in number. The room was spacious, never feeling cramped.

At that moment, the master was teaching the elementary classroom to read, while the intermediate students practiced writing and recitation. Though quiet, the boys were restless—making faces, passing notes, comparing fists, and competing at grass and cricket fights. Only a few were focused on their writing.

It was understandable; a whole morning’s lesson was hard for energetic young boys to endure.

Li Yanqing entered and saw Li Er waving frantically at him, pointing to an empty seat nearby.

He took the seat, dozens of eyes fixed on him. Suddenly, someone shouted, “Ha! Another idiot from Li Village.”

Laughter erupted.

At that moment, a heavy cough sounded outside the door. The room fell silent as every child pretended to write diligently.

Their master entered briskly, carrying a cloth bundle. He strode directly to Li Yanqing’s desk and placed the bundle before him.

“Your belongings are in here—the Hundred Family Surnames and the Thousand Character Classic are taught in the elementary classroom. We are now studying the Gongye Chang passage from the Analects. Though you already know it, you must follow my rules: recite Gongye Chang a hundred times today. If your handwriting is altered or untidy, you will double it. Submit it tomorrow morning.”

With that, Yao Ding swung his bamboo whip and struck a boy nearby, the same one who had shouted earlier, triggering the laughter.

After several harsh lashes, Yao Ding glared at the students. “If I hear a single peep again, nobody goes home tonight.”

The students fell silent, none daring to look up. Yao Ding turned and left. The punished boy angrily drew a bloodied sword piercing a bull on a blank sheet.

Li Yanqing opened his bundle, taking out his brush, inkstone, paper, and a thin volume of the Analects. Yesterday, Steward Yang had already paid ten strings of cash on his behalf, covering five years of textbooks and supplies. Ten strings were clearly insufficient, but as an official academy, the county would cover the shortfall.

Primary school studies lasted five to seven years, after which families assessed the child’s academic progress. Those unfit for study returned to farming; wealthier families sent their children to the county academy instead.

If a poor but talented student passed the county academy exam, he could study there with a daily rice stipend, effectively becoming a subsidized scholar of the Song Dynasty.

Of course, the Song government did not officially provide such stipends. All local revenues were remitted to the central government, leaving local finances tight. Tangyin, a major grain producer, had some surplus to support impoverished scholars. Such educational aid was unofficial but tacitly tolerated by the court.

For now, these distant concerns need not trouble Li Yanqing. Spotting a small bucket of clear water in the corridor, he scooped some with a wooden ladle and sat down to grind ink slowly.

At that moment, Li Er slipped a note onto his desk, reading, “Beware the wrath of the noble prince.”

Li Yanqing couldn’t help but chuckle.

...

At noon, the break lasted over half an hour. Students living in town returned home, while others gathered in small groups to chat and play. Many brought snacks.

Li Yanqing had saved two steamed buns in the morning, waiting to stave off hunger at noon. Now, starving, he sought a quiet spot to eat. Li Er clung to him like a shadow.

Li Yanqing climbed onto a wall. Li Er followed and sat beside him, pulling a half-eaten pancake from a wax paper wrapper. “Try mine—it’s meat-filled.”

Li Yanqing accepted and bit into it. It was scallion and lamb filling, slightly salty, likely cured meat, but delicious nonetheless. Seeing him enjoy it, Li Er offered another piece, but Li Yanqing declined, saying a taste was enough; too much would spoil his appetite.

Taking a bite of his bun, Li Yanqing asked, “Why isn’t the master here at noon?”

Li Er shrugged, “Old Ox is full and must nap. His noon nap is inviolable—even if you set off firecrackers by his bed, he wouldn’t wake.”

Just then, Li San came running in, flustered. “Brother Qing, Wang Gui and Tang Huai are looking to cause trouble for you.”

Li Yanqing looked up to see a dozen children crowding two finely dressed young gentlemen from wealthy families approaching swiftly.