Chapter 98

After buying books from the bookshop, Cheng Wen had a stack as tall as half a person, and with the provincial and metropolitan examination essays, even Lin Yanchao couldn't carry them all by himself. He had to have the shop send someone to deliver them to his home. For other scholars, reading such a stack of books every day would be a headache, but for Lin Yanchao, it would only take a month or so.

When Lin Yanchao returned home, Qianqian prepared a cup of tea for him. Lin Yanchao took the tea and said to Qianqian, "It would be better if we hired a servant. Then you wouldn't have to work so hard serving me."

Qianqian smiled and said, "Yes, so you need to study hard. After you pass the examination and become a scholar, you can marry me with great pomp and ceremony."

Qianqian repeated her instructions several times.

Lin Yanchao smiled awkwardly.

"Don't cook dinner for me. I need to study hard."

Lin Yanchao then took the tea, picked up two pieces of radish cake, and went upstairs. After this brief respite, his spirit was even better, and he picked up the anthology of the Eight Great Masters and started reading again. Others read books by looking at them, but since Lin Yanchao had already memorized them, he recited them from memory, hands behind his back.

The clear and resonant reading voice echoed through the small building. Zeng Guofan once said that reading should produce a sound like metal and stone. As Lin Yanchao read, he felt the reading voice floating and distant, resonating in his chest.

He paused slightly, took a sip of light tea to moisten his throat, and started reading again, his mouth feeling refreshed.

Reading Han Yu's essays, he felt the overwhelming momentum, like a great river, vast and flowing.

Reading Su Shi's essays, they were like a spring of water, gushing out without choice of place. On flat ground, they flowed steadily, and even a thousand miles a day would not be difficult. When they met with mountains and rocks, they followed the shape of the objects, unpredictable and ever-changing.

Such essays were clear and melodious, the sound resonant, and the more he read, the more he felt. At first, he could only grasp the surface, but after reading several times, he slowly tasted the essence.

After finishing the essays, he felt very refreshed and his thoughts were clear.

Thinking of another essay he had yet to write, and having just read some excellent essays, Lin Yanchao felt a strong urge to write.

Having written many essays, Lin Yanchao had the habit of reading an essay before writing. This made the essays he wrote more vivid and expressive, allowing him to express his true feelings. His inspiration never ran dry, and he could reach a state of complete absorption.

Lin Yanchao couldn't help but think, is this the realm of having a wealth of knowledge and writing with divine inspiration? However, my current knowledge is still shallow, so I need to use this method. But during exams, where can I borrow books to read? So I need to read more.

Lin Yanchao then ground the ink and picked up the brush, writing on the paper with a swift hand. Occasionally, he paused to ponder the words, and he would take a bite of radish cake and a sip of tea.

After finishing the radish cake, with half a pot of tea left, the essay was complete. He was very satisfied with the essay, but the only flaw was that some oil spots had stained the side of the paper.

The drum tower on Xuanzheng Street sounded the time.

Lin Yanchao looked out the window and realized that it was already getting dark. He had been so engrossed in reading and writing that he hadn't noticed the passage of time.

Lin Yanchao lit a lamp and looked at the lights in the houses and alleys. Suddenly, a cool breeze blew, and it started to rain. The rain fell chaotically from the eaves, splashing onto the black tiles, one or two drops at a time, gradually wetting them.

Lin Yanchao closed the window, went downstairs, picked up his rain gear, and told Qianqian he was going out. He walked alone.

Walking by the river, the raindrops splashed on the water. Lin Yanchao walked slowly under the eaves of the houses by the river.

The heavy rain soon eased, and the bustling area under the Tongjin Gate became lively again.

The Tongjin Gate, also known as the Qingmen Gate, was called so because it allowed boats to pass through. The Lishemen Gate, one li to the west of the Tongjin Gate, was originally the southern gate of the Luocheng. With the expansion of the provincial capital, the city walls of the Luocheng were abandoned, but the watchtowers on the original city gates were still preserved.

Zeng Gong, the governor of Fuzhou, once wrote: "Red silk lanterns pass over the slanted bridge, and I see the flying eaves and the Big Dipper. People on the painted boats are still awake, and the moon and the tide fill the embankment."

This poem describes the beauty of the Antai River outside the Lishemen Gate during the Northern Song Dynasty. Now, the Lishemen and Tongjin Gate are near the prefectural school and the governor's residence, making it a gathering place for scholars and officials, and it is very lively at night.

Lin Yanchao walked along the south bank, looking at the small streets and alleys on the other side of the river, where the sound of flutes and drums could be heard. Many officials and wealthy young men, holding umbrellas, crossed the arch bridge to the other side. Women from the brothels on both banks stood by the windows, their light green and pale red dresses fluttering, their eyes alluring.

On the south bank, pedestrians sheltering from the rain under the eaves beat their clothes and, seeing the rain lessen, continued on their way.

The rain fell on the paper umbrellas, and the cold wind blew on Lin Yanchao's face and clothes. He looked at the night scene on the other side of the river, which seemed like a beautiful ink painting. Such a scene could not be replicated by the high-rise buildings of a big city or the artificial tourist attractions of later times.

Walking alone by the river, Lin Yanchao couldn't help but hum a song.

The road of life, the dream is long;

The wind and frost, the frost on the face.

In the dust of the world, how many dreams;

Finding the beloved in a dream, the road is vast and vague.

...

Lin Yanchao hummed the Cantonese version, a song he loved deeply.

As he hummed and walked, he suddenly heard the sound of a flute and drums. He turned his head and saw a garden in front of the arch bridge on the other side of the river, where a Confucian drama troupe was performing. Lin Yanchao crossed the bridge and entered the garden. The garden was spacious, with flowers and trees planted, and a stage was set up in the center. In front of the stage, there were pavilions with about ten four-person square tables, and a waterside pavilion was also nearby.

The waterside pavilion was curtained, as if a family had come to listen to the play.

Rain splashed from the eaves, and the gongs and drums on the stage sounded.

Lin Yanchao sat at a square table diagonally opposite the stage, put away his rain gear, and let it drip beside the table. Someone came up and asked, "What tea would the guest like? Our boiled tea is very good."

Lin Yanchao nodded and said, "Then bring me a pot of boiled tea."

"Would the guest like any pastries? We have yam cakes and chestnut cakes."

"Sure, bring me one of each."

On the stage, a female lead appeared and sang, "The sun rises in the southeast, shining on my Qin family's tower. The Qin family has a beautiful daughter, named Luo Fu."

"Isn't this 'The Mulberry Grove'?"

Soon, the tea and pastries were served. Lin Yanchao drank the tea, ate the pastries, and watched the play and listened to the music. The people around him also drank tea and chatted.

Life in the city was good, with the charm of the common people and a sense of peace and leisure, making one feel slightly drowsy.

After the play, the troupe leader came to the table with a playbill. Someone gave a tip and requested a play.

After another play, Lin Yanchao saw that the rain had lessened and took an umbrella to go home.

Walking by the river, Lin Yanchao enjoyed the bustling city life. Scholars often say, "The small recluse hides in the wild, the middle recluse hides in the city, and the great recluse hides in the court."

The seclusion in the mountains and forests has a leisurely and elegant atmosphere, but it is only a small seclusion. As for the great seclusion, it means living in the court but having a mind far away. Dongfang Shuo once said, "I sink into the world, hiding in the Golden Horse Gate. One can hide and preserve oneself in the palace, why must one hide in the deep mountains and thatched huts?"

Lin Yanchao thought, I can't achieve the realm of great seclusion now, but I can try the middle seclusion. Enjoying the bustling city life, listening to music, and drinking tea, while being devoted to reading and not changing one's aspirations, being both busy and leisurely, and far from hunger and cold, this can be considered the realm of middle seclusion.

The next day, Lin Yanchao went to the Lin family residence and showed Lin Jing the five essays he had written the day before.

Lin Jing read each essay and nodded, saying, "Each one is better than the last, especially the last one, which has the style of the Tang and Song masters, with a sense of reason, rhetoric, and spirit."

Lin Yanchao was delighted and said, "I also like Mr. Dongpo's essays, especially the line, 'Fishing and chopping wood on the riverbank, befriending fish and deer, sailing a small boat, raising a gourd cup to toast each other; entrusting the ephemeral to the vast universe, a grain of sand in the vast sea.'"

Lin Jing smiled and nodded, saying, "Good. However, Mr. Dongpo's style is subtle and varied, not easily imitated. You don't need to imitate him. You have a natural talent, and you can draw on the strengths of many masters to create your own unique style in the future, not bound by the past."

Lin Yanchao was flattered and thought, Am I really that good?

"I'm not exaggerating. In a month, you have reached this level with the essays of the Eight Great Masters, which is already quite good. But reading only the Eight Great Masters is not enough. Now you can read the 'Wen Xuan.'"

The 'Wen Xuan' was compiled by the Crown Prince Zhaoming of the Southern Liang Dynasty, selecting works by over a hundred famous writers from the pre-Qin period to the Liang Dynasty. It is equivalent to the 'Ancient Prose Masterpieces' of the Ming Dynasty, but it is more difficult, lacking the works of the Tang and Song Eight Great Masters.

...