Chapter 3: Spring of the Second Year of Qingli

“Thank you, Mr. Wang.”

Su Ze expressed his gratitude to Wang Anshi, then closed the door of his humble dwelling and said, “My home is rather modest; let us go outside the ward to a teahouse for our conversation.”

When Wang Anshi had just followed Captain Sun into the house, he had already noticed that Su Ze, like himself, was a penniless scholar with nothing but bare walls. Nodding in agreement, he said, “A street-side tea stall will do.”

The two stepped out of the alley and soon came upon a bustling main street.

Unlike the square layout of Chang’an in the Tang dynasty, Bianjing, a transport city built by the water, was much more irregular in shape.

The prosperity of the commodity economy had rendered the old Tang model of commerce confined within ward markets unworkable. The daily lives of the people—clothing, food, housing, and transportation—were all tied to the market economy. Although the Song dynasty still divided the city into wards, they were no longer separated by walls as in the Tang era; instead, they were interconnected by a network of roads.

The shops along the street thrived, with many vendors selling breakfast along the roadside, while the traffic of carts and horses flowed incessantly.

After some searching, Su Ze found a tea stall that also sold breakfast. He led Wang Anshi there and took a seat.

The tea master seemed to recognize Su Ze and warmly brought over two tea bowls. He lifted a teapot from the charcoal fire and unfolded two small stools, arranging seats for them.

“Bring us two more bean cakes,” Su Ze requested.

“Right away!” the tea master replied promptly. He swiftly placed the wrapped bean cakes on an iron tray over the charcoal fire. The residual oil on the tray soon turned the cakes golden brown, releasing a sweet and fragrant aroma.

These bean cakes were similar to pancakes filled with a slightly sweetened bean paste. They were said to have originated from the Khitan people in the north and had become popular in Bianjing through the envoys and merchant caravans traveling to the capital.

Once seated, Wang Anshi spoke first, “Mr. Su, I am but an unpolished man and would like to hear your thoughts on contemporary learning.”

Only then did Su Ze realize why Wang Anshi had sought him out so eagerly.

Unlike ordinary scholars who disliked being called pedantic, Wang Anshi wore this label as a badge of honor for idealists.

He had once written a poem praising Mencius: “Why fear the world’s disdain for pedantry? Such men comfort the lonely heart.”

So when he heard of Su Ze’s high regard for him, Wang Anshi was neither offended nor indifferent but rather delighted and came to visit with enthusiasm.

Seeing Wang Anshi’s gaze, Su Ze understood his intentions.

At twenty-two, Wang Anshi was at the age eager to make friends and engage in meaningful conversations.

Yet, as a young prodigy, he often found himself lonely and anguished.

Most scholars of their generation studied merely to pass the imperial examinations and secure official posts for wealth. Wang Anshi’s solitude stemmed from his alienation from his peers, which made him yearn deeply for a like-minded companion.

His eager inquiry about Su Ze’s views on contemporary scholarship was a way to discern whether Su Ze might be such a friend.

Su Ze sighed softly, for he too was no stranger to loneliness. After sipping his tea, he said, “I find myself most fond of the Book of Changes, followed closely by the works of Mencius.”

Wang Anshi’s eyes lit up.

In the current imperial exams, the major texts included the Book of Rites and the Zuo Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals as the principal classics; the Mao Poetry, the Rites of Zhou, and the Etiquette and Ceremonial as secondary classics; and the Book of Changes, the Book of Documents, and the two commentaries on the Spring and Autumn Annals as minor classics.

In addition to the required Analects, Mencius was not highly esteemed in the Northern Song era; few young aspirants even read it.

The Book of Changes, while a minor classic, was mostly tested on rote memorization of the canonical meanings—akin to dictation in modern exams—and seldom studied in depth.

Though Wang Anshi had done little research on the Book of Changes, he had a particular fondness for Mencius. Hearing Su Ze’s preference gave him the joy of finding a kindred spirit.

Su Ze continued, “My favorite passage from the Book of Changes is: ‘When one comprehends transformation, the people grow tireless; when one governs with the spirit of change, the people adapt naturally. When the Changes reach their limit, transformation follows; where transformation occurs, communication ensues; where communication prevails, endurance is ensured.’”

At these words, the tea master placed the bean cakes before them, while Wang Anshi excitedly drummed his chopsticks on the table.

The tea master showed no surprise; Bianjing was full of such eccentric scholars. He simply set down the cakes and went to attend to other customers.

Though these scholars were peculiar, they valued their dignity most of all and were the teahouse’s best patrons. If a young scholar broke a pair of chopsticks in his enthusiasm, he would surely compensate for them.

Wang Anshi rubbed his hands eagerly and asked, “Brother Su, are you a supporter of the New Policies?”

The New Policies.

Su Ze recalled that this was the second year of the Qingli era. Historically, the grand reform movement known as the Qingli New Policies would erupt in the third year.

Such a momentum for reform never arose without cause. Already, calls for new policies stirred in the court this year, and as a young scholar keenly attentive to current affairs, Wang Anshi had noticed the tide.

The Qingli New Policies—Su Ze remembered—were a sweeping reform effort led by Fan Zhongyan. Unlike Wang Anshi’s excitement, Su Ze knew the reforms lasted barely over a year. By the fifth year of Qingli, Fan Zhongyan was expelled from Bianjing, and the reforms utterly failed.

The young Wang Anshi must have witnessed this premature end upon entering officialdom, sparking his later ambition for reform.

Su Ze said, “The changing of the four seasons is a natural law. The rise and fall of dynasties is much the same. Reform and renewal are necessary to address new challenges; otherwise, wearing summer cloth in winter would surely bring death by cold.”

Wang Anshi, clutching a steaming bean cake, nodded vigorously as he stuffed a piece into his mouth.

Su Ze also picked up a bean cake but was burnt by its heat. Watching Wang Anshi’s unyielding appetite, Su Ze thought to himself, this young man truly is a pedant.

It was said that Wang Anshi always ate only from the dish nearest to him. His political opponents had accused him of affectation, but Su Ze believed it was a sign of his intense focus. No wonder this young man had passed the imperial exams at such a tender age.

Thinking of this, Su Ze felt a wave of despair for this year’s examinations, where others were not only more talented but also more diligent.

Yet, their acquaintance was still shallow, and it was inappropriate to delve deeply into such matters, especially since the New Policies involved many factions at court. Su Ze refrained from discussing specifics, only speaking vaguely on the necessity of reform.

Still, even these words made Wang Anshi’s eyes shine with excitement.

Most youths their age immersed themselves in poetry and classics to excel in the exams. Who else but Su Ze would ponder such grand principles?

Wang Anshi was so engrossed that he continued to reach for bean cakes long after finishing the last one on his plate.

Unable to watch any longer, Su Ze broke his own bean cake in half and placed it on Wang Anshi’s plate.

They remained there until the tea stall began closing. Only then did Wang Anshi reluctantly rise.

From his breast pocket, he drew a slip of paper and handed it to Su Ze, saying, “This is my address. Tomorrow I shall host a literary gathering at my home to exchange ideas. Please, Mr. Su, do attend.”

At that moment, a small voice whispered in Su Ze’s ear:

“Detected the aura of literary spirit. Shall it be absorbed?”