Chapter Sixty-eight: Searching for Books (Part Two)

Old Master Tong went to see his father-in-law, Yan Mao, and asked whether the Yan family possessed any books. He also explained to his father-in-law what Zhang Xuan intended to do.

After listening, Yan Mao said, “The intention is good, but our Yan family has always focused on cultivating ourselves through martial arts, and we have no collection of books related to teaching. I’ve thought it over carefully, and it seems no one in the town owns any books either. Books are mainly held by the prominent families; ordinary people rarely have access to them. Even if someone does have handwritten or self-engraved copies, they would certainly keep them well hidden and not bring them out.”

“Has our Yan family, after so many years of traveling and settling, really not a single book at home?” Though the Yan family has some history, it would be hard to believe that they have not even one book, despite their focus on martial arts.

“We used to have some. After all, our family has been here for generations. There were some books, like partial handwritten copies of the Analects, parts of Mencius, and a few others. They were accumulated in the study, and though few read them, they served as a symbol of our family. But then, a great fire struck our home, and the study was burned. Most of the books were destroyed in that fire, and since then, we haven’t tried to collect them again,” Yan Mao recalled. “Still, I can send someone to ask around the town to see if any family has books. If we find any, we can borrow them or buy them outright. But if possible, I’d like to make a request—though I’m not sure if it’s feasible.”

“What’s the request? As long as it’s not too difficult, I can promise it right here,” Old Master Tong said, patting his chest.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a hard one. I just think the method of collecting books for teaching is excellent. We martial artists, when we travel, shouldn’t be completely illiterate. Right now, many people can only write their own names and nothing else. Many of our children have suffered from a lack of education. So, I’d like to ask: when you teach, could you include others as well? How much they learn is up to them. That’s my only request, though it depends on whether we can find any books.”

Old Master Tong didn’t immediately agree, since there were no books yet, and any promises would remain empty words.

“But you and your senior brother have traveled for years. Surely you have ways to get books?” Yan Mao looked at Old Master Tong.

“We can get them, but if we make a round trip, Zhao Ding might be gone by then. He still plans to study at Yingchuan Academy. We can’t keep him waiting.”

“That’s true. We can’t ruin his future—that would be a sin. I’ll have to send people to collect books locally. If we find some, all the better. If not, perhaps we can find some scholars in town. If there are no books, let them teach what they know.”

Old Master Tong’s eyes lit up at Yan Mao’s suggestion and he raised his thumb in admiration. “The old ginger is the hottest after all.”

“What does that mean? When you say it, it sounds less like a compliment.”

“It’s something that rascal Zhang Xuan says. It means the older the ginger, the spicier it tastes. It’s also used to say that older people, because of their life experience, can always come up with more ways to solve problems than younger ones. As for what ginger is, I don’t know—I’ve never tasted it. If you’re curious, ask Zhang Xuan yourself about it,” Yan Mao waved his hand dismissively.

Just then, Zhang Xuan sneezed and muttered, “Looks like someone’s thinking about me. Well, I suppose it’s only natural—after all, I’m so outstanding here, it’s reasonable that I’d be on people’s minds. I wonder if Old Master Tong has found any books yet. If conditions allow in the future, I’ll have to introduce papermaking and printing here, to advance education in this era. It’ll benefit the country and the people, a merit for the ages.” As for whether this would harm the interests of the prominent families, Zhang Xuan wasn’t considering that for now.

While Zhang Xuan was lost in these “wild thoughts,” Zhao Ding said his farewells to Zhao Yun and left his room, just in time to see Zhang Xuan gazing at the sky in a daze, his face wearing an absent-minded, perhaps even slightly lewd smile. Comparing Zhang Xuan’s current appearance with the impression Zhao Ding had earlier when listening at Zhao Yun’s door, the two seemed utterly mismatched. “This man, when he speaks, he’s full of references and eloquence, and when he acts, he has a method to everything. But when you look at him, he just seems so greasy. How should I judge him? Truly a mysterious person,” Zhao Ding mused, opting not to disturb this rather discordant scene, and walked back to his own room.