Understanding the world was all learning; mastery of human relations was true literary art

Imperial College, Literary Gathering Pavilion.

At Song Yuan's teasing words, Jia Heng neither denied nor admitted anything. He merely smiled and said, "As long as you think this plan is workable, Mr. Song."

There was a touch of warmth and familiarity in Song Yuan's remark.

Song Yuan smiled. "Tomorrow, I'll have the carpenter make some freestanding signs and tell the Canon Clerks in each section to follow this plan."

As a provincial examination graduate serving as registrar in the pavilion, Song Yuan handled almost all the routine work of managing the Literary Gathering Pavilion's books.

In truth, the position was somewhat beneath him.

Had he entered official service, a provincial graduate could even have become a county magistrate in some remote region. But Song Yuan had stayed in the Capital to prepare for the examinations, taking them from his spirited early twenties all the way into his early thirties. By then, his heart had almost turned to cold ashes. He had simply taken the registrar's post at the Imperial College, which also made preparing for the examinations convenient.

Jia Heng nodded. As the two spoke, a clanging sound rang out.

The Literary Gathering Pavilion was sounding its chime to urge the students to leave. In another hour, its doors would be locked.

Song Yuan smiled. "Let's put these papers away and lock them in the cabinet. It's getting late. Time to go home."

As he spoke, he locked the sheets of yellow hemp paper in a standing cabinet, then turned and looked up to ask, "Ziyu, do you take your meals and lodging here in the pavilion?"

Generally speaking, those who had relatives outside would not live at the college.

Jia Heng smiled. "I'm going home too."

"On Ningrong Street?" Song Yuan asked.

Jia Heng nodded. "Liutiao Alley, off Ningrong Street."

Song Yuan smiled. "Then we share part of the route. I came by carriage, so I can take you some of the way. Go upstairs and gather your things first."

Jia Heng cupped his hands in thanks, then turned back to collect his belongings.

Watching the young man walk away, Song Yuan stroked the short beard beneath his chin, a thoughtful expression appearing on his face. "The Jia Family really has produced an unusual one."

He had come to the Capital at twenty and spent more than a decade there with little to show for it. Eventually, he had married, had children, and bought land and property in the city. Naturally, he knew the Capital's powerful families well and knew a little about the Jia Family too.

In a noble house a century old, there's no telling when one or two outstanding sons might emerge to uphold the household and revive its fortunes, Song Yuan reflected.

A short while later, Jia Heng took his belongings and umbrella and left the Imperial College with Song Yuan. They climbed into a carriage driven by an old servant. Its wheels rumbled over the rainwater pooled in the streets, carrying them away.

The two chatted inside the carriage.

Song Yuan smiled. "Ziyu, if you intend to sit the county and prefectural examinations, devoting more time to the classics and examination essays is the proper course. If there's anything in the Four Books you don't understand, just come and ask me. Don't stand on ceremony. I won't make promises about anything else, but passing the Cultivated Talent examination should be a certainty."

Compared with his remarks at the Drunken Wind Tower, made in the warmth of wine and in Han Hui's presence, which had contained some measure of social politeness, these private words were clearly far more sincere.

Hearing this, Jia Heng said gratefully, "Thank you, Mr. Song. If there's anything I don't understand, I'll certainly come to ask you."

Song Yuan smiled. "I've been reflecting lately on the examination path myself. In the end, it's only a ladder to advancement. What matters is the ability to manage affairs. If a man knows nothing of practical business, even if he becomes an official, cunning clerks will pull the wool over his eyes, and trouble will follow. Fortunately, young as you are, Ziyu, you've already shown a talent for handling affairs. That is truly rare."

Song Yuan had only gradually grasped this truth after meeting setbacks in the examinations and making a living in the Capital. Having just seen Jia Heng reveal his talent and his way of dealing with people and affairs, he could not help offering a few reflections.

"You flatter me, sir." Jia Heng's expression grew serious. "But what you say is quite right. As the saying goes, understanding the world is all learning; mastery of human relations is true literary art. Whether one studies to advance one's learning... or seeks to establish achievements, words, and virtue, all of it should rest on the unity of knowledge and action."

Song Yuan's eyes lit up. He murmured the fourteen characters of "understanding the world is all learning; mastery of human relations is true literary art," then smiled. "Those words are truly an admonitory maxim, Ziyu, one that gives a man much to ponder. I wonder which great sage said them. Every word is a pearl; not one could be changed."

Clearly, Song Yuan had dimly arrived at such an understanding over the years but had never been able to put it into words. Suddenly hearing this profound and enduring observation gave him the pleasure of seeing the clouds part and finding a kindred spirit.

Jia Heng smiled. "I've forgotten who said it. It merely came to mind just now."

Naturally, the words were not his own. Their source was... Dream of the Red Chamber.

Well, they even had a connection to his future wife, Qin Keqing. The original Dream of the Red Chamber described a painting called "Lighting the Goosefoot Staff" hanging in her room, with these lines displayed on either side.

Song Yuan smiled. "Earlier, I heard Zisheng and Wendu say that you had also written a novel, Ziyu?"

Han Hui had originally mentioned it in passing. At first, Song Yuan had paid it little heed and naturally had not asked for details.

For one thing, prying into every last detail was especially irritating. For another, he really had not taken a young lad like Jia Heng all that seriously before.

Jia Heng paused, then said frankly, "My purse was empty. I merely wrote it to put food on the table."

Song Yuan asked in surprise, "Have you brought the manuscript?"

Jia Heng considered for a moment. "I only have two chapters with me. Would you like to read them now, sir?"

Candlelight shone from the carriage's four beams, making its interior as bright as day. That alone suggested Mr. Song's household was comfortably well-off.

Seeing Song Yuan nod, Jia Heng took the manuscript from the cloth bag he carried.

Song Yuan nodded and accepted the manuscript, then began to read. When he came to the poem "Linjiang Immortal," his expression shifted slightly. Raising his eyes, he exclaimed, "Ziyu, you truly possess great talent."

Then he continued reading.

This Song Junya had also been a child prodigy. Though he might not take in ten lines at a glance, he read very quickly. His eyes seemed unable to tear themselves away. When he finished the second chapter, he felt a forlorn sense of loss and said in a voice full of conflicting emotions, "Truly magnificent writing. Its prose has the refinement of the classics and their commentaries, while its plot has all the marvels of a storybook. This is a fine book indeed. It deserves a great cup of wine!"

He had expected some youthful fantasy, perhaps a work of lush words and sensual verses. Instead, he had found a historian's mighty brush, with every word cutting like a blade.

"You praise it too highly, Mr. Song," Jia Heng said.

It was worth noting that, exceptional as his memory was, he could not possibly reproduce the Romance of the Three Kingdoms he had read in his previous life without changing a single word. Its style and diction naturally contained something of his own.

His extensive reading of classics and histories in his previous life had revealed itself almost unwittingly.

So, in truth, he did feel that he deserved... some of this praise.

Song Yuan reluctantly handed the manuscript back. "Ziyu, when you have more, please be sure to let me feast my eyes on it."

Jia Heng nodded. "I'm usually in the pavilion."

Song Yuan added, "A manuscript like yours must not be left like a pearl gathering dust. It should reach the world as soon as possible. The college has its own printing workshop. You ought to have the blocks carved and the book printed without delay."

As the Dynasty's foremost institution of learning, how could the Imperial College lack something like a publishing house? It had its own workshop for printing lecture notes and books.

Jia Heng's expression briefly stilled. "I've already promised this manuscript to the Ink and Brush Studio for printing and publication."

Song Yuan sighed. "That really is a pity."

Then something else occurred to him. He hesitated, but still asked, "May I ask how much they offered for it?"

Jia Heng paused in thought. "Two taels per chapter."

Song Yuan sighed. "That price... is the usual rate for a newcomer. But if you used the college's printing workshop, you might receive a little more for your writing."

Jia Heng could not help laughing. "Unfortunately, I didn't know you back then, sir."

Song Yuan smiled. "Still, the Ink and Brush Studio has extensive connections. They say its owner has considerable financial resources. If your book sells well, perhaps you'll be able to renegotiate the price."

"Let's hope so," Jia Heng said.

As they talked, the servant outside the carriage window spoke in an aged voice. "Master, we're home."

Jia Heng said, "This is far enough, Mr. Song. I'll get out and walk. It isn't much farther."

Song Yuan smiled. "I had wanted to invite you in for a drink, but on such short notice, I fear I couldn't entertain you properly. Tomorrow, then. I'll have my servant take you home. Go back for now."

Without waiting for Jia Heng to refuse, Song Yuan lifted the carriage curtain and said, "Old Wu, take young Master Jia home for me."