Chapter Nine: The Recluse of Eastern Slope

“Young man Li Sanjian requests an audience with the elder, hoping you will permit me to enter and pay my respects.”
On this day, just as dawn was breaking, Li Sanjian prepared a few simple gifts and arrived before a small wooden cabin, bowing in respect toward it.

The cabin stood in the northwest corner of the small fishing village, with a brown door and blackened walls, bearing the marks of many passing years. To the left of the house lay a vegetable patch, where some greens were growing; to the right, there were several green plum trees, now heavy with unripe fruit, each one plump and hanging low. From afar, the trees formed a sea of pale green, lending the place an air of tranquil seclusion.

After Li Sanjian called out several times, the little wooden door creaked open, and someone emerged from within. This person appeared to be about twenty years old, not tall, with glossy black hair and a hooked nose. Compact and sturdy in build, he wore a jacket neither wholly blue nor gray. Upon stepping outside, he fixed his eyes on Li Sanjian, his gaze sharp and restless.

“My master has spoken,” the young man said to Li Sanjian. “You should first return home and learn the proper rites before coming back.”

Rites? Li Sanjian was dumbfounded at these words. Aside from knowing how to bow, he had no knowledge of Song Dynasty rituals at all. The problem was, not a single person around him knew the etiquette of the Song; everyone here was a fisherman, unfamiliar with the rites of the Han.

Through careful observation of the elderly man who had once helped him—his bearing and his words—Li Sanjian had concluded that this was no ordinary individual. Now, having crossed the local strongman, the headman Wang Kunrui of the Maodao clan, Li Sanjian hoped to seek this elder’s aid. Of course, his stated reason for coming was to express gratitude.

Originally, Li Sanjian thought that upon arrival, he would be able to see the old man at once, but unexpectedly, he was refused at the door.

“May I know your name, brother?” Li Sanjian asked.

“Just call me Gao Er,” the young man replied.

“Brother Gao Er,” Li Sanjian stammered, “I was born into poverty and have never learned the rites. Even if I go back, there’s no one to teach me.”

Poverty alone, Gao Er mused to himself, was not the reason for ignorance of the rites. The boy was a foreigner, after all, and could not be expected to know the Han customs. This, Gao Er understood.

“You truly don’t know how to observe the rites?” Noticing that Li Sanjian spoke sweetly and had a pleasing appearance, Gao Er felt a certain fondness for him.

“I truly don’t know, nor do I know where to begin,” Li Sanjian replied respectfully.

“Well, since I’m in good spirits today, I’ll teach you a few things,” Gao Er said, brightening.

Gao Er had once been a street tough in Kaifeng, born of a ruined family but clever and quick-witted. He excelled in all manner of entertainments—music, dance, martial arts, wrestling—and was also well-versed in poetry and prose. Recommended to the elder as a close attendant, he had followed his master into exile in Qiong Tai and Danzhou and had served him loyally ever since.

“The Rites of Zhou, the Book of Rites, and the Etiquette and Ceremonial—these are the Three Ritual Classics. Propriety, ceremony, integrity, and shame are the Four Pillars. Loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, love, trustworthiness, righteousness, harmony, and peace—these are the Eight Virtues. One must learn the rites and uphold them…” Gao Er recited slowly.

He took a certain pride in this: once a street ruffian, now teaching a young man the rites like a great scholar.

Seeing confusion cloud Li Sanjian’s eyes, Gao Er smiled and said, “Let’s begin with daily etiquette. When greeting someone, you bow with hands clasped and give a formal acknowledgment. Stand with feet slightly apart for stability; when bowing, incline your body, eyes fixed on the tips of your shoes—this is the proper posture. Knees straight but not bent, head lowered, hands to the sides of your knees, but not inside them. After the greeting, raise your hands and cross them before your chest. Use both hands, not just one finger, lest it be considered disrespectful. When bowing to someone of higher status, your hands should pass below your knees; after the acknowledgment, again cross your hands before your chest…”

Gao Er rattled off a long and fast explanation, leaving Li Sanjian increasingly bewildered, his eyes clouded with confusion.

Gao Er laughed and, raising his hands in a formal salute, demonstrated, “Watch and follow.”

Li Sanjian imitated him as best he could.

“This is a long bow,” Gao Er explained, then overlapped his hands at his chest, swaying them gently as he inclined forward. “This is the formal salute…”

One willing to teach, the other eager to learn, they practiced for quite some time.

“Go home now and practice these courtesies. Return when you’ve mastered them,” Gao Er finally said.

...

“Master, this boy is clever and quick, merely lacking a teacher since childhood. Why did you send him away? What harm in seeing him?” After Li Sanjian left, Gao Er questioned the old man.

The elder stroked his beard and, after a moment’s thought, replied, “Jade cannot be made into a vessel without carving. At his young age, he’s done a few things for the people and already grows arrogant, daring even to challenge the headman. He needs to taste a little setback; it will only do him good in the future.”

“You are right, Master,” Gao Er agreed.

...

“Your student humbly requests an audience,” Li Sanjian announced three days later at the door of the cabin, bowing with hands clasped.

After three days of intensive practice, his salute was at least presentable; he had grasped the basics of etiquette.

“Ha! Brother Sanjian, you’ve come?” The door opened and Gao Er stepped out. “Master invites you in. Go on in!”

“Thank you, brother,” Li Sanjian replied, bowing.

Following Gao Er inside, Li Sanjian noticed verses written on the column outside the main hall.

“From where my river first begins, my official travels carry it to the sea…”

Though he could not read every character, he recognized enough to pause, reading the lines aloud with interest.

“Oh? Young man, do you know this poem?” came the elder’s voice from behind.

“I think I’ve seen it somewhere before,” Li Sanjian replied, crossing his arms as he studied the poem.

“Really? Where was that?” the elder asked, surprised.

“This… ah, I pay my respects to the elder.” Realizing the elder stood before him, Li Sanjian quickly bowed.

The elder waved his hand. “No need for ceremony. Can you understand these verses?”

“A little,” Li Sanjian replied.

“Oh? You can compose poetry too? What do you make of this one?” the elder pressed.

“I… I don’t understand poetry, nor can I compose it…” Li Sanjian answered honestly. “But I think I grasp the general meaning.”

“Oh? Tell me, what does it mean?” the elder asked.

“Nothing more than the poet expressing homesickness, I suppose…” Li Sanjian smiled.

“That’s all?” The elder chuckled, stroking his beard.

“As for the rest… I am dull-witted. Please, enlighten me,” Li Sanjian said.

The elder laughed. “Come inside, young man.”

As Li Sanjian stepped toward the door, he noticed an inscription at the lower right: “Dongpo Jushi.”

Dongpo Jushi… Dongpo Jushi? The realization struck him, and he blurted out, “Su Shi?”

“Insolence! How dare you address my master by name?” Gao Er scolded from the side.

By now, how could Li Sanjian not realize that the man before him was none other than Su Shi, one of the Eight Great Prose Masters of the Tang and Song?

Stunned, Li Sanjian stared blankly at Su Shi, at a loss for words.

“No harm done,” Su Shi said with a smile. “So, young man, you know my name?”

How could I not? I know it all too well, Li Sanjian thought to himself.

“The name Dongpo Jushi is famous throughout the land, known to every household. Even though I am young, it has long resounded in my ears,” Li Sanjian replied.

Su Shi laughed heartily at this. At thirteen, Li Sanjian’s words were not insincere flattery, simply the unguarded speech of a child.

Su Shi could hardly have imagined that within Li Sanjian’s youthful body beat the heart of someone much older…

“Even the people of these remote parts know your name, master,” Gao Er chimed in.

Yet from Gao Er, the words sounded different. Su Shi shot him a glance, then turned to Li Sanjian. “What brings you to my humble dwelling today?”

“I… you helped me the other day, so I have come especially to express my gratitude,” Li Sanjian stammered.

Su Shi fixed him with a smile. “Is that all?”

“Well… there’s also…” Li Sanjian faltered, unable to speak plainly.

“Do you wish to study under me, take the imperial exams, and seek a future?” Su Shi asked directly, seeing through his hesitation.

“How did you know?” Li Sanjian blurted out in surprise.

Su Shi had guessed exactly right; that was precisely his intention.

After much thought, Li Sanjian had realized that the only path open to him was through study, and to take the imperial exams he needed a good teacher. From his observations, Su Shi seemed a man of great learning, and so his main purpose in coming was to seek him as a master.

Only through the exams could Li Sanjian escape his current situation, leave this place, and perhaps enjoy a better life. His strength lay in his extraordinary memory and his knowledge of many study methods unknown to this world. He was convinced that, with the right teacher, he would succeed.

“You are mistaken,” Su Shi replied. “I can see you are clever and kind-hearted; your desire to study is admirable. Yet to study under me may in fact harm your prospects.”

“Why is that?” Li Sanjian asked in surprise.

Su Shi only shook his head and did not answer. Scenes from the court flashed through his mind—the official path had been nothing but one of thorns and heartbreak. Was it not because he had read too many books that he had ended up exiled to this desolate place, his family scattered?