Volume One: Morning as a Country Lad Chapter 18: Buying a Study Book—Why Are You Blushing?

On the twenty-fourth day of the twelfth lunar month, Doumiao was heading to the county seat to fetch his eldest son, Xie Fifteen, and to purchase some New Year’s provisions along the way.

Chuliu clamored to go as well, wanting to pick up his brother and buy a few books at the same time.

Wang Cuicui didn’t hesitate; she handed Doumiao several taels of broken silver and a few strings of copper coins.

It was still pitch dark when father and son set out, driving their donkey cart. Zheng Mei saw them out, calling after them loudly, “Husband, there are a lot of people in the county seat. Make sure you keep a close eye on Chuliu. It’s his first time there—don’t let him wander off and get snatched by child kidnappers...”

“Why so much chatter? Get inside!” Doumiao gave the donkey a slap; Dingguangxian stepped forward, striding with an air of cutting all ties.

Chuliu waved to Zheng Mei, “Mother, you’d better go in, it’s cold outside. I’m smart—if anyone’s going to do the abducting, it’ll be me. No one can abduct me.”

Zheng Mei waved her hand without replying, remaining at the door until the pair disappeared from sight before returning inside.

Liuxi Town was about sixty li from Xuanyi County. With the donkey cart alternating between trotting and walking, they reached the city gates by mid-morning.

“Chuliu, is the county seat big?”

“It’s alright.”

“Are there a lot of people?”

“A bit more than in our village.”

“Stick close to me. Don’t wander off.”

“Don’t worry, Father. I won’t go anywhere except the bookshop.”

Doumiao was surprised to see Chuliu so unmoved.

When he was a child, going to town with his own father, he was full of excitement, asking questions about everything, marveling at every novelty, to the point of exhausting his father’s patience.

But Chuliu remained indifferent.

Such is the breadth of a scholar’s experience, Doumiao thought.

What he didn’t know was that, in his previous life, Chuliu had seen the glitz of sprawling metropolises. In his eyes, Xuanyi was nothing more than an oversized village.

“Chuliu, are you hungry? Let’s get something to eat first.”

“Father, I’m not hungry. Let’s buy the books first. Once we’ve picked up my brother, we can eat.”

With so many people in the city, Doumiao got off the cart, leading the donkey to avoid bumping into others and risking compensation.

“Sir, is there a bookshop nearby?” Doumiao had been to the city before, but never paid attention to bookshops.

He didn’t want to wander around aimlessly, nor did he wish to embarrass himself in front of his son, so he approached an old man selling soybean milk by the street.

“Just walk forward a dozen paces, there’s a place called Ink Fragrance Studio—every kind of book you could want.”

“Many thanks, sir!”

Chuliu, who could read, pointed out the shop, “Father, that’s Ink Fragrance Studio.”

Doumiao tied the donkey to the tree in front of the shop, putting a muzzle on it to keep it from gnawing the bark, then entered the shop with his son.

The shop assistant was sharp-eyed, quickly discerning that though Doumiao wore new clothes, he was no man of means.

But business is business; a customer is a customer. The assistant greeted them with a smile. “What sort of book are you looking for, sir?”

Doumiao was not adept at speaking, especially with strangers in town, and felt a bit sheepish.

But since he’d brought his son, he couldn’t lose face by failing to answer even a shop assistant’s greeting.

He couldn’t afford to disgrace himself.

“Brother, we’re here to buy, to buy those books...”

He had no idea what Chuliu wanted, and stammered, his face flushing red.

“Oh...” The assistant shot Doumiao a knowing look, scanned the surroundings, then led him to a quieter corner, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Sir, which sort do you want? We have two kinds—one with illustrations, one without. If you ask me, the illustrated ones are better. They cost more, but the pictures and text together are quite... satisfying and help pass the time...”

“To tell you the truth, the authorities are cracking down now, and these books are banned. If you really want them, go to the back—there are dozens of editions. Choose whichever you like...”

Illustrations? Banned by the authorities?

Doumiao was utterly lost, standing there dumbfounded.

His son was a promising scholar—of course he wanted to buy good books. It was the money he’d earned, and he was happy to spend it on his son.

He drew himself up with sudden confidence. “If we’re buying, we’ll buy the best.”

The assistant gave Doumiao another look. That outfit... hmm, maybe a nouveau riche playing at being plain, trying not to get caught buying such books and lose face.

“Sir, you have good taste! The best books are in the back—worth every copper. Please, come with me...”

“Father, don’t go with him!” Chuliu felt as if he were back in his previous life, buying pirated disks, and quickly stopped his father.

Only then did the shop assistant notice the child.

“Sir, is this your son?”

Doumiao nodded. “Chuliu is a scholar. I’ve come to buy him a few study books.”

Buying study books—why the red face?

Had me all wrong.

The assistant quickly led them to another area, gesturing to the shelves. “Here are all the study books: the Four Books and Five Classics, the various schools of thought, all the collections you might need. Please, take your time.”

Chuliu browsed for a while, then said, “That annotated Analects, and that Detailed Explanation of Poetic Forms—I'll take both.”

These were both study guides.

Next year he’d be learning the Analects; better to get a head start, so he’d have deeper insight when his teacher explained them.

Poetry was his weakness, yet essential for the exams. He needed to understand it well.

This Detailed Explanation of Poetic Forms was just what he needed.

The two books came to four taels and three qian of silver. Hearing the price, Doumiao’s heart ached, but he gritted his teeth and paid.

Leaving the shop, Doumiao quietly asked his son, “Chuliu, what kind of books was the assistant trying to sell us just now?”

“Father, you can’t read—why worry about that?”

Chuliu feared his father’s curiosity might get the better of him next time, leading him to be tricked into buying something with pictures inside, so he frightened him, “Those are banned books. Get caught with them and you’ll end up in jail. They’re expensive too—about fifteen taels of silver each...”

“Good grief, fifteen taels for a single book? I couldn’t make that much selling tofu in a year. That’s not reading, that’s robbery...”

Doumiao silently swore never to enter a bookshop again.

...

Iron Art Pavilion was the largest smithy in Xuanyi County. The proprietor’s surname was Jin, though his given name was long forgotten.

In earlier years, he was called Jin the Smith; now that he’d prospered, people called him Master Jin.

Fifteen was apprenticed at Iron Art Pavilion.

Last year, Doumiao had picked up his son here, so he led the donkey cart straight to the smithy.

Arriving at the door, he tied the donkey to a tree.

Before he could enter, he heard angry shouts inside: “You ungrateful wretch! I’ve fed and housed you, taught you a trade, and you sell my golden boy’s work for the price of scrap iron...”

A loud slap.

“Master Jin, I swear I sold it at the fixed price, not a coin less...”

“Even river water is dearer in the twelfth month, and you sell it cheap? Another slap!”

Another blow, followed by a furious shout, “Your father’s coming to fetch you today. Pack up and get out—never come back! I don’t need useless trash here...”

Doumiao heard it all clearly. It was his eldest son’s crying.

A breath.

Doumiao’s temper flared.

He balled his fists and rushed inside.