Chapter 49: Practicing Calligraphy

After lunch, Sun Shan sat on the stone steps beside De Ge’er to rest. Although it was still cold after the New Year, the sunlight warming their faces felt comforting.

The sound of banging echoed—class was about to begin.

The students hurried back to the classroom and quietly took their seats, waiting for Master Zheng’s arrival.

Soon, Master Zheng entered the room. Sun Shan and the other two sat up straight, sitting properly.

Master Zheng spoke gently, “Let’s read again what we learned this morning.”

This time, Master Zheng no longer read in the Guangnan dialect, but in the official Beijing Mandarin.

He would read a sentence, and the students followed. Finally, he asked them to read it on their own.

Master Zheng nodded with satisfaction, “Well done, you all read correctly. Now I will teach you how to write.”

He called the students up one by one, first instructing them on how to arrange the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, then how to grind the ink and hold the brush.

Spreading out the paper, Cang Jie wrote the character “人” (person) with strength and precision.

Facing the three students, he said, “Watch carefully how I start the strokes.”

Master Zheng then wrote the twelve characters they were learning that day.

Sun Shan studied intently. Master Zheng’s writing was in regular script—nothing particularly artistic, but neat and clear. Unlike cursive script, which danced wildly and left one guessing what was written, this script was orderly and straightforward.

Master Zheng spoke with seriousness, “This is regular script, the font used in all official government announcements and documents. It is also the script required for the imperial examinations.”

He paused before continuing, “When you go out to find work, or if you have the chance to take the imperial exams, this script is universally used. Therefore, you must learn it.”

Master Zheng took out another sheet of paper and demonstrated again, asking, “Did you see clearly? Write exactly like this. As scholars, when we write, we seek only correctness and propriety—horizontal strokes level, vertical strokes straight, everything neat and orderly.”

Sun Shan observed Master Zheng’s writing carefully, committing the stroke order to memory.

Master Zheng then called the three students to return to their seats.

Standing, he said, “Alright, now the three of you, follow the steps I just showed. First, arrange the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone properly.”

The three imitated Master Zheng’s motions, preparing their materials. They spread out the paper and picked up their brushes.

But when it came time to put brush to paper, none of them could bring themselves to start.

The three students scratched their heads, looking at Master Zheng helplessly.

Master Zheng was not angry; instead, he smiled and said, “Your hesitation is normal. On my first day writing, I was just like you—hesitant and afraid to begin.”

However, he added, the Master back then did not have as gentle a temper as I do now. When he saw students struggling, he would curse loudly.

Master Zheng himself had once been a student. Now, as a teacher, he understood his students’ feelings better, so he treated them with gentleness and kindness.

He approached Sun Shan, took his small hand, and patiently guided him stroke by stroke.

“Just like this,” he said kindly. “Take your time with the rest.”

He then moved on to De Ge’er and Yang Qingbei, teaching each how to start their strokes.

Master Zheng glanced at the large, clumsy characters the three students wrote but said nothing.

When he noticed mistakes, he corrected them gently: “Today you’ve learned how to write. When you go home, ask your father to prepare a small stone slab for you to bring to class, so you can practice writing on it.”

“We come from poor families and cannot always afford paper, but you must practice writing. Once you’ve mastered it on the stone slab, you can write on paper.”

Sun Shan quickly asked, “Teacher, what kind of stone slab do you mean? I’ve heard of practicing writing on sand or stone, but I’ve never done it myself.”

Master Zheng pointed to a small pond in the courtyard, beside which lay several smooth, square stone slabs.

“That kind of stone slab, made square and portable. You bring it to school for writing practice by the pond, washing it clean when done. When you’re confident, then write on paper.”

He added, “If you have time, you can also practice by the pond on the stone slabs, but always clean them thoroughly afterward. In life and conduct, one must be consistent from beginning to end. Understand?”

The three students nodded earnestly, “Yes, Teacher.”

Master Zheng said, “Keep writing. I will go check the next class and come back later to see how you’re doing.”

With that, he left the classroom without looking back, heading to the adjacent intermediate class.

As soon as he left, De Ge’er’s stiff posture immediately relaxed. He slumped in his chair, dejectedly saying, “Shan Zi, this is so hard. I don’t even know how to hold the brush.”

Sun Shan glanced at De Ge’er’s writing—so awful it was painful to look at. His strokes lacked order and rhythm, merely copying the form without proper technique.

Looking at his own work, although his characters were as large as an ox, each stroke was clear and deliberate, far better than De Ge’er’s.

He comforted him, “De Ge’er, Master said that the first time writing is always like this. The more you write, the better you’ll get.”

De Ge’er ignored Sun Shan’s reassurance in his usual roundabout way and sneakily peeked at Yang Qingbei’s writing next to him. His frustration deepened—anyone not blind could see Qingbei’s script was far superior.

Sensing De Ge’er’s gaze, Yang Qingbei turned his head and casually glanced at De Ge’er’s paper, then chuckled quietly.

De Ge’er immediately asked, “Qingbei little brother, what are you laughing at?”

Yang Qingbei sat up straight, feigning seriousness, “Nothing, I’m not laughing. You must have misheard.”

De Ge’er didn’t believe him but dared not speak loudly in the classroom, especially fearing the Master might suddenly return.

Sun Shan ignored De Ge’er and continued writing, reading aloud in Beijing Mandarin as he went.

Being able to write well and speak the official dialect were essential prerequisites for entering the imperial examinations.

They practiced one side of the paper, then the other, back and forth, until the entire sheet was filled and no more practice was possible. Only then would they set it aside.

After an uncertain length of time, Master Zheng returned.

Sun Shan and the others immediately straightened their posture, writing with utmost seriousness.

Master Zheng inspected their work one by one.

To the three students, he said, “Sun Shan, your writing is good, and your stroke order is correct. The two of you can learn from him.”

Here, stroke order refers to the sequence in which each stroke of a Chinese character is written.

Correct stroke order makes characters look more beautiful and flowing, and helps improve writing speed and accuracy.

De Ge’er and Yang Qingbei nodded in understanding.

Master Zheng took out several sheets of paper, each printed with grids of various sizes—3x3 and 9x9.

He said, “Once you’ve practiced enough on the stone slab, you’ll write on paper. Look at this sheet.”

He showed a paper with nine squares arranged in a 3x3 grid.

He explained, “When you write on paper, keep each character within one square. Don’t let it go beyond the borders. Understand?”

After speaking, he wrote the character “人” in one of the small squares.

The three students nodded, “Teacher, we understand.”

Master Zheng then took out a sheet with a 9x9 grid, saying, “This grid is smaller. When you’ve practiced more, write on this.”

He wrote the character “人” again in one of the tiny squares.

Finally, Master Zheng showed a sheet with even smaller grids, on which he wrote the twelve characters they had learned today: “At the beginning of man, nature is inherently good. Natures are similar, but habits make them different.”

He patiently said, “When your writing can be this small and still clear, you can consider yourself well practiced.”

The three students responded earnestly, “Master, we understand.”