Chapter 42

After some thought, I politely declined. Although I didn’t know how much he overlapped with the person in this timeline, at least for now, he was just a passerby in my journey. It wasn’t the time to be high-profile yet.

However, his enthusiasm was hard to refuse, and he assured me it would only take a short time and wouldn’t be far. So, I casually bought two large packs of tea cakes and a few packs of coarse and fine pastries at the temple gate, and a large plate of sticky rice steamed cake from a vegetarian shop. Then, I followed them through two main streets to the Fusha, not far from Chen Guo Temple.

The so-called Fusha, or the Revival Society, was actually the backyard of an old bookshop. The air was filled with the smell of ink and old paper. The courtyard was quite large, and the door lintel had a wooden board inscribed with the characters "Lè Dào" (Pleasure in the Way). However, it was very clean, and the most numerous items were various books and literary excerpts, both new and old.

The few rooms along the wall had a lively and homely atmosphere. There was a corner with climbing vines and a small flower bed. Surprisingly, there was even a manual printing press with a stone base, and the sieve contained metal movable type, either lead or tin, which had been polished smooth. I glanced at the printing plate and saw that it was arranged horizontally from left to right, a modern style. Needless to say, this was another legacy left by a predecessor from the future—Mr. Liang.

I placed the items I bought on an old table, boiled water, and made tea. Then, everyone casually took what they wanted and drank, each doing their own thing. It seemed very relaxed and spontaneous, clearly a daily routine.

Some took a book and read it in a corner, nodding and swaying; others wrote something incomprehensible on the wall with a brush dipped in water; some happily pruned the flowers with scissors; or simply yawned and walked into a room, snoring loudly soon after.

In the end, only Cai Yuanzhang stayed to continue introducing the place to me.

"They have a style reminiscent of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove," I smiled at Cai Yuanzhang, thinking it had a flavor of an ancient literary club and a secret garden for book lovers.

According to him, it was a loosely organized group with diverse interests. As part of their regular activities, besides collecting and reading various ancient and modern books, they often brought their own writings, poems, and other works to be evaluated and appreciated by the group. They would then print small collections popular within their circle as memorabilia.

The manual printing press was their most significant communal asset. In fact, due to the early widespread adoption of movable type printing hundreds of years ago, the publishing industry had reached a high level. This included traditional imperial publications, provincial and departmental publications, the highest academic institution—the Imperial Academy—local schools, local government publications, various official and noble family publications, and professional academies. There were also folk bookshops and religious publications. Therefore, the threshold for acquiring such a simple hand-press printing machine was not too high.

What was truly rare was the source of the metal movable type. The miniature casting technique for these tiny characters was not something any ordinary metal workshop could produce. I couldn’t help but speculate about their hidden identities.

Cai Yuanzhang, it turned out, was from a prominent family in Minzhong, known for its cultural prosperity. Because a family member held an official position in Xuzhou, he received a recommendation to study at the Pengcheng Academy, the only one left in the area. The Fusha premises were obtained through connections, partly bought and partly gifted.

The others had similar backgrounds or experiences, mostly from wealthy and leisurely families, allowing them enough time and energy to socialize and network, forming this small group based on shared interests and hobbies.

In this chaotic era, they tried to maintain the last vestiges of scholarly traditions, or dignity and pride, and promote their ideas and beliefs.

Since the Fusha had no financial benefits and required constant personal contributions, Cai Yuanzhang, who invested the most, was chosen as the leader.

Inviting me was partly out of excitement at finding someone to discuss high-level topics with. However, upon learning my current profession as a doctor, he couldn’t help but show a somewhat incredulous expression, unsure whether to believe it or not.

"Be a good statesman or a good doctor. Saving the world and healing people are sometimes the same thing," I explained lightly.

My predecessor's experience at the Imperial Academy in Luoyang gave me plenty of topics and anecdotes to share, including some historical and semi-historical stories. This drew a few more people into the conversation.

I also had some knowledge of the local scholarly community. Xuzhou, as a key transportation hub, had remained relatively peaceful for decades, attracting scholars from the Huai, Zhejiang, and Minzhong regions. It was a rare haven of cultural prosperity in this chaotic era.

Although the traditional imperial examinations and official schools were disrupted by war, aspiring officials or those inheriting family businesses still needed cultural knowledge and experience. Thus, there was still a market for traveling scholars and further education.

Even the regional lords, while often defying orders from Luoyang, still sent their children to study at the Imperial Academy and its affiliated schools.

Since I was being treated so well, I offered a few suggestions to help them generate some income using their existing resources and skills. Although not substantial, these ideas were stable and sustainable.

For example, they could start a copy shop, printing simple Buddhist scriptures and stories to promote good deeds, temple guidebooks, and scenic spot brochures to sell at the temple gate. They could also print educational materials like the Thousand Character Classic and the Three-Character Classic, which would be in demand.

Another idea was to collect and rebind old books for a rental service. The city had a constant demand for cultural and spiritual content, and their student-era entrepreneurial ideas and part-time jobs were not as diverse as those of modern people.

I even thought of a name for the copy shop.

"Let's call it Donglin Copy Shop."

"Excellent."

Cai Yuanzhang squinted his eyes.

"Taking the name from the mountains and forests, it evokes an ancient and serene atmosphere."

"Do you need a couplet?"

I thought for a moment and suggested:

"Sounds of wind, rain, and reading, all enter the ear; matters of family, state, and the world, all concern the heart."

This couplet, originally written by Gu Xiancheng, the founder of the Donglin Academy, was met with enthusiastic approval. Wang Fu, the best calligrapher, immediately wrote it down.

I was actually giving them a small, mischievous gift. Since there was a Fusha, why not have a Donglin Party?

I was genuinely looking forward to the future, where leaders like Cai Yuanzhang, the last conscience of the literati, might emerge if he was indeed the historical figure. Even though the imperial examination system was in disarray, some schools and selection systems still existed in the regional fiefdoms to provide officials for local governance, as local governments couldn’t rely solely on nepotism.

As we were talking, a few enthusiastic scholars entered the courtyard.

"Boji."

Cai Yuanzhang greeted the tall leader, who nodded.

"This is my fellow townsman, Li Boji, from Shaowu."

I had met him before; he was one of the loud speakers at Chen Guo Temple.

"This is Xia Sheng. Although we just met, he has some refreshing insights."

Cai Yuanzhang introduced me to the others.

"I was just about to introduce him to you. It would be good to get to know him better."

"Xia Sheng, greetings."

Li Boji spoke with a straightforward and decisive tone.

He then introduced himself as a member of another group called the Jiantan Society.

Public speaking was not a traditional practice but had become popular after the Qianyuan era, a legacy of the two academies and a good policy left by Mr. Liang.

Compared to the more laid-back and somewhat reclusive Fusha, the Jiantan Society had a more aggressive and radical flavor. This made it easy to sense the rivalry between the two groups, both composed of traveling scholars and local wealthy families.

I understood; everyone had been through that idealistic and passionate phase. Even in college, there were debates between the humanities and sciences.

"Jiantan Society and Fusha members, come and support us."

Another person called out.

"They are fighting with Zhao Yuanzhen, Li Taizhen, and Hu Bangping again."

The courtyard was suddenly bustling with people, and I was swept along with them.

At a back gate of Chen Guo Temple, a crowd of people with headscarves had gathered, and the sound of heated debate could be heard from a distance. The scene was familiar and somewhat comforting.

As the Fusha members joined, the tone and atmosphere became more intense. Cai Yuanzhang excused himself and squeezed in to mediate.

I listened for a while but found it uninteresting and stood up to leave.

"Brother, what are your thoughts?"

A voice called out.

"I have no thoughts."

I shook my head.

"I don’t understand what you’re talking about."

"Why don’t you stay a bit longer and listen to my arguments before making a judgment?"

I sighed. These idealistic and naive young people, thinking that shouting slogans could change the world, were the most annoying and troublesome. Especially when they thought they were right.

"Is it necessary?"

"Of course it is."

The other person said meaningfully.

"If you still have the desire to advance in the Way."

What was this? I frowned. Had they misunderstood something?

Cai Yuanzhang squeezed out, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Xia Sheng, what do you think of them?"

They were actually asking for my opinion. This was like inviting trouble.

"They’re just talk."

Compared to Li Boji’s practical concerns, the debates here were all about quoting classics and moral principles, which made me feel somewhat out of place.

"If they were to actually do something, many would be overconfident and underqualified."

I continued, thinking.

"So, their so-called concern for the country and people is just a way to show off their superiority when they have nothing better to do."

Spending too much time on forums, I knew the difference between substance and action. Even amateur photographers on forums had to include a piece of paper with their forum ID to be considered sincere.

"Seems like something strange just slipped by."

"Brother, what do you mean by 'overconfident and underqualified' and 'just talk'?"

A few unfamiliar scholars stood behind me.

"Alright, some of you aren’t overconfident and underqualified."

I shrugged, looking at their puzzled expressions, and Bao Tou Dun, who was covering his mouth, was laughing, his eyes curved into crescents.

"All I see is a group of people talking nonsense."

"Instead of talking about grand ideals like governing the country and pacifying the world, let’s talk about what can be done right now."

"Have they ever given a grain of rice to help the poor and sick in their own communities?"

"Or practiced martial arts to protect their neighbors from bandits and marauders?"

"Doing nothing and just sitting here talking about grand plans gives them a false sense of achievement."

"Day after day, they promote themselves to gain fame and advance their careers."

"There’s no easier shortcut than this."

"What do you think they can do, then?"

The other person, with good composure, continued to ask.

"If they really want to do something practical—"

"There are many ways. Opening a school to educate the next generation, spreading knowledge and virtue, is a noble cause."

"Or, in the short term, teaching the poor to read and write, giving them a chance to improve their lives."

"Or starting a bookshop to publish and promote their ideas, reaching both the powerful and the common people."

"Those who only talk and lack the will to act are just empty talkers."

"On the battlefield, they wouldn’t last five breaths."

"So, goodbye, overconfident and underqualified ones."

I left, influenced by my predecessor’s experiences and memories. I had already encountered enough nonsense today, and further entanglement would only expose my ignorance. So, I decided to play it safe and be a passerby. After all, we were just passersby.