Chapter 45

Zhuo Siheng wondered whether he'd been somebody's big brother too much and too long — kin and non-kin, one after another — so that his heart was filled with anxiety, and every day on opening his eyes he had first to wonder how these rascals were getting on.

His own three siblings needn't be said — each had their easy sides and their worrying sides. Cousin Fan was too kind and weak by nature, and an official in a remote little county besides; Zhuo Siheng wrote to ask after him every few days, and each time he opened the court gazette he had to check whether all was well in Lingzhou — he fretted himself to pieces. Tong Shipei had lost his brother young and was starved for affection, treating Zhuo Siheng like an elder brother and telling him everything; his father still living, there was really no need to worry much, but every time the fellow came he'd bring back a heap of court gossip with a loose tongue, as if he'd never taken a beating from society — Zhuo Siheng could only earnestly drum it into him to be careful in all things and remember that trouble comes out of the mouth. Gao Yongqing left him most unable to sit or lie easy: this one had drawn up a career plan for a high-risk profession — to be a lone minister and a cruel official — and since their parting Zhuo Siheng had grown fever-blisters at the corners of his mouth from unease, fearing the Tangs' secret mischief, fearing the emperor would sacrifice the pawn to save the general, and unable even to contact Gao Yongqing — sheer torment.

Zhuo Siheng felt he was probably fated to be a big brother all his life; looking back, a whole row of these troublemakers stood in a line, every one younger than him — think as he might, there was no end of things to worry over.

But as the weather turned hotter by the day, the summer heat sent not only long daylight but also the wedding of one of his "younger brothers."

On his wedding day Tong Shipei's mouth was near split to behind his ears — a perfect illustration of "a man in luck is a man in high spirits." Zhuo Siheng kept reminding him to be a touch steadier: the Earl of Yongxiang, though not his proper father-in-law, had raised his niece with a care far beyond a birth father's, and a little gravity would show he'd not chosen the wrong son-in-law. At that Tong Shipei managed to hold it a moment, only to start grinning foolishly again; the Earl of Yongxiang's look at Tong Shipei seemed to reproach himself for having picked such a fool of a son-in-law, and Zhuo Siheng watched with a helpless wry smile.

But on second thought — if he'd married a girl he liked, he probably wouldn't do much better than Tong Shipei.

Yet his own marriage-fate seemed to have put out no word at all; perhaps even Heaven felt he oughtn't waste his fine years just now, and should focus on his career.

Since retiring, Tong Duo had kept his conduct careful and his associations few, but a wedding banquet, out of regard for the in-laws' face, couldn't be too spare; the Earl of Yongxiang was a man of some weight in the army, and many came for the face of his marrying off a daughter, so many tables were set within and without, mostly military men, who drank enough to make the liver and gallbladder quake. Before evening even fell Tong Shipei was already plied tongue-tied and bleary-eyed; Zhuo Siheng blocked a good many cups for him and got a bit dizzy and light-footed himself, but his capacity had been forged on Old Huyan's raw home-brew — more than enough to out-drink the army juniors. And with his refined, gentle, seemingly-bullyable scholar's air, amid the talk and laughter he'd drunk several young palace-guard officers who meant to get the groom drunk clean under the table.

Seeing him keep a mild, cultivated bearing even while drinking, the Earl of Yongxiang asked Tong Duo in a low voice, wondering: "Is this the sworn brother of Fangze's you told me of? That zhuangyuan surnamed Zhuo?"

Tong Duo said with a smile: "The very one. Well?"

"He may well be someone one day." The Earl of Yongxiang didn't mince words, nor stint his praise: "For our third boy to have such a friend, he'll surely have a strong arm to lean on at court hereafter."

"How much can we manage of our children's affairs? His eye for people is good; to have made such a bosom friend is his good fortune — as for his future career, that's up to him..."

Tong Duo's tone held a touch of grief; the Earl of Yongxiang knew he'd thought of his two sons dead young, and so put on a mock-angry laugh: "What do you mean, up to him! Do you take me, the father-in-law, for a mere ornament? A son-in-law I've picked, of course I won't leave him to his own devices! And besides — if not for your secret protection back then, my family would likely have been stripped of its title and exiled long ago; where would these days of ours be? I tell you, our third boy I'll help to the very end!"

"When did I say I'd not look after the children?" Tong Duo shook his head with a smile. "That old business is past too; back then, the emperor newly enthroned, we old ministers all had a hard time of it, warning each other in secret; now, though the imperial countenance has changed, one must still keep one's wits fully about one..."

The two talked a long while more, then raised their cups together. When the joyous banquet was at its most heated and free, a crowd pushed Tong Shipei forward to make sport of the newlyweds, but the groom was long since on the verge of senselessness, the only motion he could command a foolish "heh-heh" grin. Zhuo Siheng wasn't drunk, but his head spun badly; having safely seen Tong Shipei into the inner hall, he propped himself against the wall a good while — the summer night's warm breeze was better than being drunk, and in the seventh month, the Fire Star sliding down the sky, there still hid a thread of clear, mild gentleness.

Tong Duo, knowing he'd blocked so much drink for his son that day, and that his sister was a bosom friend of the bride keeping the women company at the inner tables, specially arranged a carriage to see the family home; Zhuo Siheng led Huiheng and Ciheng in thanking old Tong and took their leave.

In the carriage, Ciheng pestered Huiheng about the day's amusing doings; and before they knew it, their brother had leaned against the carriage's soft wall and fallen asleep, eyes shut.

Seeing her brother asleep with a faintly silly smile still on his face, Ciheng couldn't help laughing aloud, and poked Second Sister to look together; Huiheng too couldn't hold back a laugh — when had they ever seen Zhuo Siheng in such a state? In the end the two sisters dissolved into giggles — laugh as they might, their brother wouldn't wake.

"Sister, do you think Elder Brother, asleep and grinning like that, is dreaming of getting married?" Ciheng said, wiping her laughter-tears and winking with a wicked little smile.

"A grown girl now, and still talking so unguarded!" Huiheng chided with her lips, but her hand still gently smoothed the loose soft hair at her sister's temple. "Elder Brother's had many vexations of late; a happy event at last — he can let his breath out a little."

Ciheng had never cared about Zhuo Siheng's court affairs, but today she'd heard the girls talk privately of much their fathers and brothers had said, and asked: "It's about Big Brother Yongqing, isn't it? I still remember we said goodbye the very first time I met him; today I heard people say he'd made a great stir returning to court, then was demoted and sent off somewhere far away."

This Huiheng knew a little of from Zhuo Siheng and much from Zhao Lanxuan; what she'd pieced together, though not the whole picture, gave her a rough grasp of the matter start to finish. Since her sister already knew and cared for their brother, she needn't hide it, and told of the recent storm, then sighed: "I remember Big Brother Yongqing's health was very poor; Weizhou is a far western frontier — how could Elder Brother not worry? The two of them are good friends made under their fathers' eyes, so their friendship runs all the deeper; if you ever hear anything of it, remember to tell Elder Brother."

Rarely meek, Ciheng sat and heard it out, and nodded obediently: "I know it's serious." But something still puzzled her, and she looked doubtful: "Only, Sister — Elder Brother and Big Brother Yongqing are both zhuangyuan, the very tip of the clever people in this world; I don't think Big Brother Yongqing could fail to know that doing this might get him punished by the emperor, might even make him tread the old dust of our own father and Uncle Gao. Don't you and Elder Brother always teach me and Xiheng that 'a fall in the pit, a gain in the wit'? I don't believe Big Brother Yongqing doesn't grasp what even I understand — so why does he insist on doing it?"

After a long silence, Huiheng said slowly: "Because there's a thing in his heart that must be done — and even if it must be traded for misfortune and suffering, he won't grudge it."

Ciheng seemed to understand, nodding hard, then remembered something and shook Huiheng's arm: "Then will Elder Brother be like this someday too?"

"Elder Brother most of all has his own plans; he's always known best what he wants. If he did such a thing there'd surely be his reason, and we, as family, need only know to share weal and woe and shoulder the charge together — no need to fret over the rest." Huiheng's voice was gentle, yet a firmness lay buried deep in it; and Ciheng's face broke into the bright color of youth, agreeing with her sister from the bottom of her heart.

The carriage rolled over the clamorous streets of the summer night, the bustling harmonies of the night market drifting in from both sides; rarely, Ciheng had no wish to get down and walk about, but pillowed her head on her sister's lap and said slowly: "Sister, what sort of sister-in-law do you think Big Brother will marry one day? A gentle one or a lively one? A fierce one or a meek one?"

"He'll marry the one he likes." Huiheng stroked her sister's soft temple-hair.

...

The result of the drinking was a splitting headache the next day.

Zhuo Siheng hadn't actually been drunk; woken as he got down from the carriage, he could still see himself to his room, and even read a while out of habit before washing and settling — yet still didn't escape alcohol's sanction.

Luckily his work of late was all wrestling with the book-compiling, with no need to face the emperor, sparing him the hidden danger of a breach of decorum before the throne.

The emperor seemed much to enjoy reading this Records-content compiled by theme, and had praised Zhuo Siheng's earlier compilation work; the Hanlin duties set aside for now, he was ordered to sort and arrange it together with several editors of the Hongwen Academy.

In the afternoon the Hongwen Academy was cool and pleasant, the cool bamboo blinds keeping the heat and the fierce sun out of the library; Zhuo Siheng's headache was more than half gone, and he was bent at his desk, intent on proofreading the manuscript arranged these past days.

Halfway through, his ink-stick ran out; just as he made to rise and fetch more, someone set down an inkstone of thick, dark ink on the desk.

"Attendant Zhuo is so intent and absorbed he didn't even hear someone come in." Luo Yuanzhu bowed slowly.

Zhuo Siheng hurried to rise and thank her, saying he was truly embarrassed; hearing him, Luo Yuanzhu only put it gently that she'd helped because the Records volume she wanted for teaching had been in his hands three days already — she was helping in hopes he'd finish with it sooner.

He'd finished excerpting and had only the proofing left, so he first gave her the book; this volume was the Veritable Records of Yingzong's reign — Yingzong's reign met the Chengzhi Rebellion, and had the later story of the Princesses Zhen and Ding — so Luo Yuanzhu, he supposed, meant to use it as a lead-in to teach the imperial-clan girls.

But taking the book and glancing through it, Luo Yuanzhu still shook her head, as if murmuring to herself: "So the words urging study are mostly the same... said and said again, yet the use of them isn't necessarily there."

Zhuo Siheng had read this volume closely, with its record of the two Princesses Zhen and Ding's grand discourses urging study in the palace; seeing the ever-serene-as-cloud-and-moon Luo Yuanzhu with knit brows, he reckoned her students must be unruly and giving their teacher a headache.

"Is Scribe Luo troubled over matters of the Inner Library Court?" Zhuo Siheng asked in passing.

Given her origins, managing those students must be hard indeed.

"My students are daughters of the imperial clan, every one born of dragon-and-phoenix stock; their marriages need no learning to set them off — good matches come of themselves, so they've neither the heart nor the need to study hard; to cultivate virtue enough to befit their birth is deemed sufficient." Luo Yuanzhu spoke without an official's roundabout ways; her voice was calm and low, but the plain directness in her words gave not an inch.

Zhuo Siheng hadn't dealt so bluntly with a colleague in a long while, and could only circle back to his own comfortable rhythm: "A woman's turning to study should never be for the sake of seeking a good match; I imagine the two Princesses Zhen and Ding, spirited as they were, didn't read widely and come to know the world for the sake of marriage either."

True as the principle was, though, principle can't always solve the problem directly. Whether noble sons or highborn girls, at the Imperial Academy, the Grand Academy, or the Inner Library Court, none would study properly; what they needed wasn't a patient explanation of study's inner motivation and a weighing of pros and cons, but effective coerced-study training, and an appeal to the interests of those who truly held their fates — their parents.

Luo Yuanzhu hadn't expected such a view from Zhuo Siheng; she steadied her look at him, seeing only a clear, limpid expression and a measured smile, and after a brief hesitation said, in the humble tone of one seeking instruction: "May I ask what Attendant Zhuo's own student days were like? Have you some good method of study?"

Zhuo Siheng thought: you've asked exactly the right man.

Thought it, but his expression-management stayed light as a breeze, calm as a cloud.

"At home I was taught by my father; my father was kind by nature, with no thunderous methods." Zhuo Siheng thought a moment, then added: "Forgive my presuming to ask — has Scribe Luo ever tested her students?"

"The time for this year's assessment hasn't yet come."

Once a year, and only a spoken questioning in class — no deterrent force at all.

"There's a method to meet the pressing need, though I don't know the various circumstances of the Inner Library Court, so much you'd have to weigh yourself." Zhuo Siheng said modestly: "These next days, Scribe Luo might set questions in the form of an exam paper and test them."

Luo Yuanzhu knit her brows again: "You mean examination papers?"

"Yes and no. Examination papers are single-question, single-essay, unsuited to after-class drilling, and they'd trouble Scribe Luo to set the questions herself — after all, you know the material taught inside out."

"Do you mean the classics-exegesis and posted-text kind of testing, Attendant Zhuo?"

Luo Yuanzhu was no stranger to this question-and-answer form; but Zhuo Siheng shook his head again, and at once took up a brush and, on the back of a draft sheet, listed for her several sample questions — multiple-choice, fill-in-the-blank, sentence-completion, short-answer, reading-comprehension. Though only rough sketches of the question-types, Luo Yuanzhu, sharp as ice and snow, grasped it at a touch, and at a rough glance already saw the power of such a paper.

The delight that showed on her face was still the pale calm of restraint; and after a little hesitation and long deliberation she said: "But if they're too lazy to answer, I can do nothing about it either."

"That's easy: after you've marked their papers, put down scores and circle the errors, and have them take them home for their parents to sign." Zhuo Siheng had a follow-up move.

The parent-signature trick was, in fact, quite vicious.

"And if they don't comply?" Luo Yuanzhu was plainly a little moved by the method now, but seemed still to have misgivings.

"Take the papers and call at their homes, see their mothers, and say you're imperially appointed — that, given a scribe's grave responsibility, you dare not neglect the studies of the imperial girls, and must do your duty in full; then give the papers to their families, and say only such things as 'passable' or 'hard to say.'" Seeing Luo Yuanzhu a little hesitant, Zhuo Siheng explained for himself: "My fourth brother studies at Xiongya Academy in the capital's outskirts; every quarter the supervisor comes to the home to tell the parents or other responsible guardians of the boy's progress and weigh his strengths and weaknesses, so as to alert the family to back the academy and urge the student on. For Scribe Luo to do this is likewise to fulfill the emperor's grave trust — by no means an intrusion."

In fact he still had more radical methods, prepared back when he was working out the education reform for the Imperial Academy, that he hadn't used — like collecting past years' real examination questions to add mock exams, weekly and monthly tests with big ranking-boards, seating assigned by score, and so on...

But when giving others advice, best not bring out such controversial measures.

The method Zhuo Siheng offered could keep Luo Yuanzhu from a direct clash with the students — not only to avoid lowering the dignity of honoring the teacher, but also lest these precious highborn girls grow resentful and vengeful; quite unnecessary. In giving advice one must put the other's interest first, and whether it's truly effective and workable the other must adjust to their actual situation.

This said, Luo Yuanzhu knew Zhuo Siheng's plan was truly made with her in mind, and, grateful at heart, bowed her thanks again before taking her leave.

Watching Luo Yuanzhu's dignified, lovely retreating figure, Zhuo Siheng regretted that Scribe Luo had been born in the wrong age; had she been born where he came from, likewise a homeroom teacher, she'd not have needed such a roundabout way to meet a student's parents — a word in the group chat and all would answer at a call; wanting to name a parent for a private word, she need only do it.

Advice-giver though he was, it truly wasn't bad advice, but ways he'd pondered many times as perhaps effective; if Luo Yuanzhu carried it out to good effect in the "Inner Library Court education pilot," did that mean this method happened to strike at some vital point of education administration?

This was indeed worth a follow-up investigation.