Volume One: A Farmer at Dawn Chapter Thirteen: Tofu Selection

“The art of writing lies in the unity of heart and hand. When you set your brush to paper, it should flow without hindrance; the strength in your wrist ought to move like drifting clouds and flowing water, without the slightest hint of stiffness...”

Wen Lancang dipped his brush in ink and, with calm composure, drew a large character for “eternity.”

Chu Liu suddenly understood; he saw clearly where the problem lay.

He knew the order of the brushstrokes and how the character should be formed, but he could not fully control his hand to render what was in his mind. The characters he wrote, though correct in shape, lacked the unique charm of brush calligraphy.

Wen Lancang continued, “Write another for me.”

Chu Liu took a deep breath to steady himself, then lifted the brush again. The tip touched the paper lightly, and another “eternity” appeared on the page.

This time, the character was less awkward and constrained, yet it still missed the characteristic vitality of brushwork.

Observing this, Wen Lancang moved behind Chu Liu, bent over, and, drawing close, gently held his wrist. With a light pressure from his finger on Chu Liu’s wrist joint, he guided his hand downward.

“Write again. Let your heart move with your hand—simply and naturally…”

As Wen Lancang encouraged him, he took partial control, guiding Chu Liu as he wrote.

When the writing was done, Wen Lancang released his hand at just the right moment and said, “Now reflect—how does this character differ from the ones you wrote before?”

“The earlier ones were tense and awkward, but this one is much smoother and more fluid…”

Seeing that Chu Liu had gained some insight into calligraphy, Wen Lancang nodded. “A teacher can lead you to the door, but cultivation is up to each person. Calligraphy is profound and inexhaustible; you must ponder and savor it slowly. Never be greedy for quantity—think before you write. As the Master said: ‘Learning without thought is labor lost; thought without learning is perilous...’”

In truth, Wen Lancang was very pleased with Chu Liu.

For a six-year-old child to write such characters without a teacher’s instruction was a rare gift.

But the more precious the jade, the finer the carving required to reveal its brilliance.

...

Time slipped away quietly in the calm of daily life, and soon it was the autumn harvest.

During the harvest, the village school granted a ten-day break for the children to help their families with farmwork.

Lately, Chu Liu’s calligraphy had improved greatly, but they had also spent a fair amount on paper. Each sheet cost three copper coins—almost as much as several eggs.

One noon, returning from the fields, Chu Liu looked at the harvested soybeans and suddenly had an idea.

In the village, anyone who wanted tofu had to go to the market; few peddlers sold it door to door. Soybeans were easy to cultivate and inexpensive, and tofu could be bartered for more beans, benefiting both the villagers and his own family.

The potential customer base was large, the production cost low, and raw materials abundant. Although it was hard work, selling tofu was definitely a viable path.

The reason no one in the village made tofu was simply because they didn’t know how. A craft was a livelihood, a skill passed down within families from generation to generation, sometimes only to sons, and never easily shared with outsiders.

After the meal, Chu Liu gathered his family together. As soon as he began to speak, Xie Gensheng interrupted him.

“Tofu-making? We don’t have that skill in our family.”

Xie Gensheng was first taken aback, then smiled kindly, his grandfatherly affection showing. “My boy must be craving tofu. Well, we’ve saved up some eggs. Tomorrow your grandmother can take them to market, sell them, and buy some tofu for you…”

Chu Liu hurriedly protested, “Grandfather, I really know how to make it.”

“Nonsense, how could a little child know such a thing?” Xie Gensheng clearly didn’t believe him, shaking his head. “Er Niu from our village apprenticed with Liu the Tofu Maker for two years, learned nothing, and wasted several bushels of soybeans—his father was upset for days…”

Chu Liu quickly explained, “Grandfather, I truly know how. My teacher taught me.”

“Your teacher taught you to make tofu? Isn’t he a scholar? Why would he teach such things?” Xie Gensheng frowned slightly, wondering if teaching these things wouldn’t interfere with scholarly pursuits.

“Oh, Grandfather, my teacher says that within books, there are houses of gold, beauties as fair as jade, and stores of grain…” Chu Liu deliberately quoted obscure sayings to confuse his family, so they wouldn’t keep asking questions and force him to explain further.

“The teacher also said, there are many books in this world, recording all kinds of crafts. Even ordinary people, if they read enough, can learn the skills to make a living from books.”

“Think about it, Grandfather—there are countless scholars in the world, and many who fail the imperial exams become doctors, all because they read medical texts…”

Chu Liu cited classics and extolled the virtues of reading, successfully bewildering his family.

“Are there really so many benefits to reading?” In Xie Gensheng’s experience, learning a craft was as hard as climbing to the heavens. Apprenticeships were like indentured servitude: endless drudgery, and even then, one might not master the trade.

At this, he remembered his eldest grandson, apprenticed in the county town.

“Of course! Teacher is a scholar—how could he deceive a child? Grandfather, we have a stone mill and soybeans. Why not try? If we really make tofu, it’s another source of income. If not, it’s just an experiment—the broken beans can be fed to the pigs, so we won’t lose much…”

Xie Gensheng still hesitated. Wang Cuicui, putting down the shoe sole she was stitching, said, “Listen to Chu Liu—this child is clever. The teacher can read and write; why would he play tricks on a child? And look at Chu Liu’s calligraphy—it’s even more elegant than the old man who writes spring couplets. Such a teacher must be a good person…”

And so, the matter was settled.