Chapter Sixteen: The Pursuit of Knowledge

“As swift as a roc soaring on the wind, as serene as a wild crane in the depths. I have long since taught my son by the classics; now he sets forth on a journey of ten thousand miles, renewed. In this world, teachers pass on the Way, and friends come to cultivate virtue together. Someday, should I regret, it would only be for idly wasting the springtime of life.”

As a scholar of the Song Dynasty, one should wear a tall, square hat and broad robes. But Li Sanjian’s family was so poor they could not afford such attire. Instead, Li Sanjian wore a black, collarless tunic fastened at the front, with long trousers, his head wrapped in a black kerchief, and bark sandals bound with leggings—a picture of a man of the Li tribe.

Only the small bookcase strapped to his back hinted that Li Sanjian was a man of letters.

“My son, my son, be careful, you must be careful. If anything happens to you, I will not be able to go on living,” wept Fu Erniang, clinging to Li Sanjian.

“Mother, don’t worry. I’m fine.” Li Sanjian puffed out his growing chest and smiled. “Your son is grown now—it’s time to venture out into the world.”

At the orders of his teacher, Su Shi, Li Sanjian had finally resolved to leave home and seek learning elsewhere.

Now that the moment had come, Li Sanjian understood Su Shi’s intention at last: in this world, any true scholar must travel and study abroad, for only in gathering the strengths of a hundred schools can one truly learn. This was the wisdom Li Sanjian had grasped.

In the Song, academies were divided into official and private. Official academies, as the name suggests, were established by the government—county schools, prefectural schools, the National Academy, and so forth. Private academies were founded by local scholars—book lodges, private schools, scripture halls, study retreats, and the like.

It was hard to enter the official academies and easier to join private ones, but though admittance to the former was more difficult, the cost of study was much less, thanks to government support. Given his family’s poverty, Li Sanjian planned to enter an official academy to ease the burden.

The nearest official academy to Qiongtai in Guangnan West Circuit was the county school at Lingshan County, Qinzhou—a modest institution.

In truth, Li Sanjian looked down on such a humble county school. How could it possibly compare to Su Shi’s scholarship? He also scoffed at the curriculum, but necessity left him no choice but to journey to Lingshan County to pursue his studies.

If he wanted to escape poverty, reading was the only road. To succeed in the civil service exams, he must at least understand their subjects and content. No matter how advanced his own knowledge, when in Rome, he must do as the Romans do and begin anew.

Fortunately, Li Sanjian had studied for many years and excelled; he had his own methods and believed he would soon master whatever he needed to learn.

“What? You, grown up? Good heavens, my dear nephew, you’re not even fifteen—already grown? Look at that puny frame of yours, tsk tsk.” His third maternal uncle, Fu Lin, pinched Li Sanjian’s thin arm and chuckled.

Li Sanjian needed to cross the Leiqiong Strait to reach Lingshan County. His mother and others, worried, arranged for Fu Lin to accompany him as far as the crossing. After that, Li Sanjian would have to travel on alone—a fact that filled Fu Erniang with anxiety.

Li Sanjian shot Fu Lin a glare, shook off his uncle’s large hand, straightened his clothes, and bowed deeply to Su Shi. “Master, your student now takes his leave. Please take care of your health.”

Su Shi nodded. “May your journey be fruitful. Before you go, I will give you half a line of verse. When you pass the exam one day, I will complete it for you.”

“Master, please instruct me,” Li Sanjian said respectfully.

“The blue sea has never cut the earth’s veins; the white robe is destined to break new ground,” Su Shi intoned after a moment’s pause.

Li Sanjian murmured the words to himself, awed.

Su Shi continued, “By custom, you would not receive a courtesy name for some years yet. But as you are about to enter the academy, you must have one. Let me bestow it upon you: Your surname is Li, your given name Sanjian. Your courtesy name shall be Hanren.”

“Hanren?” Li Sanjian exclaimed with delight. “Thank you, Master! It’s smooth and pleasant to the ear.”

Su Shi rolled his eyes at this. The name Hanren carried his hopes for the boy, but all Li Sanjian could say was that it sounded nice?

“Third Brother? Hanren? Li Hanren—what a lovely name! Mother, I want a courtesy name too!” pleaded Fu Linger, who had come to see him off.

“You’re a young lady. It’s enough you have a name—what do you need a courtesy name for? Nonsense,” Fu Erniang said, half laughing, half crying.

Though a woman of the Li tribe, Fu Erniang had been married to Li Qing for many years and understood some Han customs: women typically had only a surname, rarely a given name, let alone a courtesy name—unless they were born to wealthy families. For poor girls like her daughter, it was out of the question.

“Why can’t girls have courtesy names?” Fu Linger pouted.

“All right, Linger.” Li Sanjian smiled at her. “Your Third Brother will give you a courtesy name one day.”

“Really? You promise?” Fu Linger’s face lit up.

“Truly. Your Third Brother never breaks his word.” Li Sanjian then turned to Gao Er. “Brother, I leave Mother in your care. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry, Sanjian. I’m your elder brother—your mother is my mother too,” Gao Er replied with a broad smile.

Li Sanjian nodded, clasped his hands in farewell, and said, “Master, Mother, Grandfather, Brother Gao Er—Hanren takes his leave. Please take care of yourselves.”

He tightened the straps of his little bookcase, waved, and strode off in the direction of the Leiqiong Strait.

Fu Lin, shouldering his own bundle, followed close behind.

“Wait, Sanjian!” Just then, an ox cart rattled up, and a burly man on board shouted loudly.

“And you are…?” Li Sanjian eyed the bearded stranger curiously.

“Third Brother, that’s my eldest brother, Wang Jian,” Wang Wen said shyly, stepping out from behind the man.

“Haha! So you’re Li Sanjian? Handsome enough, but a bit scrawny, eh?” Wang Jian’s tone was almost identical to Fu Lin’s, which annoyed Li Sanjian no end.

“What? Not pleased?” Wang Jian said, seeing his reaction. “If my little sister hadn’t begged me, I wouldn’t have come to see you off.”

Who cares whether you came or not, you oaf? Li Sanjian thought to himself.

“Wen’er, what’s this…?” Li Sanjian asked as Wang Wen handed him a small bundle.

“For… for your journey…” Wang Wen replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank you, Wen’er.” Li Sanjian wanted to refuse, but could not bear to hurt her feelings, so he accepted.

The two stood in awkward silence for a moment. Then Li Sanjian waved and departed, walking off into the distance.

“Third Brother, you won’t forget me, will you?” Wang Wen called out suddenly, her voice tinged with tears.

Li Sanjian paused, then shouted back, “Wen’er, I will never forget you. I will always be your Third Brother.”

The path up the mountain of books is paved with diligence; the endless sea of learning, traversed by hard work. From that moment, Li Sanjian set out on his scholarly journey—a road of no return.

…

Leiqiong Strait Ferry Crossing

“It’s enormous!” Li Sanjian and Fu Lin arrived at the crossing and were awestruck by the great passenger vessel.

“Sanjian, don’t be so amazed. I’ve seen even bigger ships,” Fu Lin boasted.

He’s just bragging, Li Sanjian thought. They’d hardly ever left home—he likely knew even less of the world than Li Sanjian himself.

But instead of arguing with his not-much-older uncle, Li Sanjian gazed at the ship and asked, “How many people can this vessel carry?”

The ship was over thirty zhang long, with bundles of giant bamboo lashed to both sides for stability. It was equipped with a floating anchor to reduce rocking, and had two types of rudders—main and auxiliary—to suit different waterways. At the stern, two additional oars could be mounted, making three in all, allowing the vessel to sail steadily across the sea.

“Young man, it can carry over a hundred passengers. But first, let me see your travel papers,” said a soldier in Song attire nearby.

This was an official ferry; the passenger vessel was a government ship. To cross the strait, one needed not only to pay the fare, but also to present identification.

Li Sanjian produced his travel permit—a document, arranged by Su Shi through Zhang Zhong, listing his name, origin, and status.

Such permits were required for many things beyond sea crossings—lodging, entering school, and so on. It was vital, so Li Sanjian kept it close at all times.

After checking his identity and collecting the fare, the soldier allowed Fu Lin and Li Sanjian to board the large vessel.

“Wealth piled high, the music resounds; who will stir the sea waters to noisy flight…”

Standing on the broad deck, gazing at the seamless union of sea and sky, Li Sanjian could not help but burst into a rough verse, his spirit soaring.

“A fine poem, a fine poem! Worthy pupil of a famed master—truly extraordinary!” came a familiar voice.

Li Sanjian turned and saw a man in his forties smiling at him.

“You!” Li Sanjian blurted out.

It was the merchant from Quanzhou, Chen Yide, who had once suffered at Li Sanjian’s hands.

“Haha, indeed it is I,” Chen Yide laughed. “The world is small indeed; who would have thought we’d meet again here?”

“And you are… headed where?” Li Sanjian asked awkwardly.

“Where else? Home across the sea. And you, Sanjian?”

“I’m going to Qinzhou to study,” Li Sanjian replied honestly.

“Qinzhou? That remote place—what’s there to learn? Why not come with me to Quanzhou?” Chen Yide smiled.

“My master’s orders—I dare not disobey,” Li Sanjian replied. He had no intention of going to Quanzhou with Chen Yide. What if the man sought revenge? In Quanzhou, he’d be at his mercy.