Chapter 53: As the Handwriting, So the Man

After a morning of studying the twenty-four characters, a rhythmic knocking sound echoed through the air.

Sun Shan and the other two put down their brushes, walked out of the classroom, entered the kitchen, and picked up their respective lunchboxes.

As Elder Zheng had instructed, if the tutor was not in the schoolroom and they heard the signal, they were to go to the kitchen themselves and get their lunch, lest it get cold and unpalatable.

Sun Shan opened his lunchbox. Today's meal consisted of cured pork, a fried egg, and green vegetables. The rice portion was a third less than yesterday's.

Little De glanced over and said with a trace of envy, "As expected, Eldest Aunt is the best, always giving Shan-zi such delicious food. Look at mine—humph, there's even one less fried egg than yesterday."

Sun Shan saw that Little De's meal had been switched from sweet potato rice the day before to taro rice, with a fried egg and greens as side dishes.

With a smile, Sun Shan said, "Little De, your meal is already quite good. You get to eat eggs every day, which is much better than the other children in the village."

Little De stopped talking. I know I have it better than the kids in the village, he thought, but I still can't compare to you.

Sun Shan picked up a piece of cured pork and placed it into Little De's lunchbox, saying, "I can only spare you one piece. There's no more."

Little De didn't mind at all and grinned, saying, "Shan-zi is still the best to me. One piece is enough, hehe, I get to eat meat too."

Sun Shan particularly liked Little De's personality. He was a bit greedy, but he knew his boundaries. If you gave him something, he would eat it; if you didn't, he wouldn't dare ask. He would eat whatever was given, and never minded if the portion was small.

Little De was lively by nature. After taking a bite, he cast a stealthy glance at Yang Qingbei's lunchbox nearby and whispered enviously, "Shan-zi, little brother Qingbei, there are no chicken drumsticks today, but there is pork. Truly the son of a landowner."

Sun Shan hummed in acknowledgment, offering no further comment. The Sun family's standard of living in Sun Family Village was already among the best; one had to know contentment in life.

The students from the intermediate and senior classes were also eating their meals on the stone steps. Sun Shan casually glanced at their food. It was either sweet potato rice or taro rice. The ones slightly better off had an egg, while the average ones had only green vegetables.

Their clothing was ordinary, bearing a patch or two. Yet, being able to attend school meant their families were reasonably well-off.

Sun Shan had never heard of any genuinely destitute children attending the Zheng Family School, nor had he heard of parents scraping together every last coin just to send their offspring to study.

Those who could come to the Zheng Family School at least possessed some disposable wealth and a measure of foresight, hoping their children would learn to read and write so they could find decent work in the future.

Sun Dingguang asked Sun Dingqing, "Brother Qing, when is Brother Ming going to Guangzhou Prefecture to work?"

Before the New Year, the eldest paternal aunt had said she would take eldest cousin Dingming to the provincial capital, but just yesterday he was still seen working in the fields with Second Uncle Sun.

Sun Dingqing shook his head and replied, "I don't know either. Eldest Aunt hasn't sent a letter yet."

The aunt had said that after the New Year, she would send a letter instructing someone to bring the eldest brother to the prefectural city to work, but no letter had arrived.

Second Uncle Sun and Second Aunt Sun were waiting anxiously.

Some schoolmates who knew Sun Dingming said with envy, "Dingming is so lucky to have the chance to work in the prefectural city. Once I finish this year, I won't be able to go to school next year, and I have no idea where I'll end up."

Another schoolmate immediately chimed in, "Well, Dingming has a wonderful eldest aunt, so going to the prefectural city is only natural. Ah, what a pity I don't have such an aunt."

The others burst into laughter upon hearing this.

Sun Dingyong also envied his eldest cousin's opportunity to go to the prefectural city and said comfortingly, "Brother Qing, don't worry. Eldest Aunt must simply be preoccupied with Eldest Cousin's imperial examinations, which is why she hasn't written."

Even for those who entered the school purely to learn basic literacy, Tutor Zheng would still introduce them to the imperial examination system.

Otherwise, after studying for several years, they wouldn't even know what the imperial examinations were or how to take them. Literacy could not be taught in isolation; one had to understand some basic common sense and principles.

Sun Shan shared this view, saying, "Brother Yong is right. Eldest Cousin has to take the examination for a child scholar, and then the provincial exam for a licentiate. I'm afraid it won't be until after April that Eldest Aunt will have time to write."

Of all things in heaven and earth, Eldest Cousin's examinations were the most important. According to Eldest Aunt, Old Mrs. He, along with Uncle and Aunt He, placed immense importance on it.

Not to mention Sun's Eldest Aunt and Uncle, who were his parents.

Little Qing was also worried for his eldest brother, hoping he could reach the prefectural city and secure a bright future. Hearing Shan-zi put it this way, he understood why the aunt hadn't written yet.

She must be waiting until Eldest Cousin became a child scholar before she had the leisure to send a letter.

When he went back, he would share this news with his parents so they could set their minds at ease.

After finishing their meal, everyone lazily sat on the stone steps to bask in the warmth of the sun. Upon hearing the rhythmic wooden clapper sound, the students quickly filed back into the classroom.

Tutor Zheng, just like the day before, once again led Sun Shan and the other two in reading and re-explained the meanings of the twenty-four newly learned characters.

Then, turning to Sun Shan and the others, he instructed, "Practice your calligraphy diligently this afternoon."

Afterward, he called the three of them to the edge of the small pond and said, "Use your stone slates here and write properly. Only when you have mastered it and write fluently should you move on to paper. Remember, you must practice your handwriting with great care."

Once Sun Shan and the other two acknowledged the instruction, Tutor Zheng departed to visit the other classrooms.

Only then did Sun Shan understand why a small pond had been specially constructed in the courtyard—it was meant for the students to wash their slates for handwriting practice.

His respect for Tutor Zheng deepened further.

The students who came to the Zheng Family School were not from wealthy households. The Four Treasures of the Study—brush, ink, paper, and inkstone—were far too precious for a student to practice day and night without restriction.

They had to practice thoroughly on inexpensive materials first before committing their writing to paper.

Sun Shan glanced at Yang Qingbei, who had also brought along a slate. It seemed that even a landowner's son lacked an abundance of paper and ink, and perhaps did not have sufficient silver for the examinations either.

That made sense. Sun Family Village, Zheng Family Village, and Yang Family Village were all tucked away deep in the remote mountains. Even if one were considered a wealthy household locally, it was only relative to the inhabitants of the deep mountains. Once they stepped outside, they were insignificant and fell far short of people from the outside world.

Within a radius of a hundred miles, Sun Family Village was entirely an impoverished region.

By the edge of the small pond were stone stools and a stone table. Sun Shan, Little De, and Yang Qingbei obediently took their seats.

Sun Shan practiced using real ink rather than plain water. With a little thrift, the Sun family could spare enough ink for this purpose.

Yang Qingbei did the same: grinding the ink, holding the brush, and writing upon the slate.

As for Little De, he simply shadowed Sun Shan, doing whatever Sun Shan did.

Since they were writing traditional characters, they needed to copy them directly from the book. Once they grew proficient, they wouldn't need to consult the book anymore.

They practiced character by character, gradually reducing the size of their script.

Today's calligraphy practice felt better than yesterday's.

Sun Shan believed that practice made perfect. He did not aspire to the brushwork of a master calligrapher, but he aimed for neatness and uprightness, resembling printed text so that anyone could read it clearly and distinctly.

Once a slate was filled, they would wash it by the small pond, wipe it dry with a clean cloth, and continue writing.

Sun Shan glanced at Yang Qingbei beside him and became even more convinced that whether handwriting looked beautiful or not was a matter of innate talent.

Sun Shan's characters were stiff and rigid, carrying a somewhat mechanical craftsmanship.

Yang Qingbei wrote stroke by stroke as well, but the resulting effect possessed a subtle artistic flair, making it look entirely different.

Then he looked at Little De's work. The writing truly reflected the person—it was flying wildly across the slate.

Clearly, he was writing stroke by stroke too, yet one stroke would fly outward while another lunged inward. The entire character seemed ready to take flight.

Moreover, the characters were exceptionally large, resulting in a scale where almost a single character occupied the entire slate.

Sun Shan inwardly shook his head. Whether Little De was clever or not remained to be seen, but when it came to calligraphy, he would certainly need to put in double the effort to practice.