After the exam

After the exam ended, Luan Yi was filled with self-satisfaction, convinced that his answers during the assessment were fluent and precise, and that he was sure to achieve excellent results. However, when the scores were announced, he was stunned to find that his result was merely "Good," placing him at thirteenth in the class—a rank slightly below average—and a full eleven places behind Guo Jia, who was second.

Meeting Guo Jia's waggling eyebrows and mischievous grin, Luan Yi pursed his lips in annoyance. Inwardly, he was puzzled. He was certain his answers had no flaws, practically mirroring the modern translations of the Analects. How could he have lost so many points? As he was mulling this over, a fellow student called to him, saying the teacher wanted to see him.

Luan Yi raised his eyebrows and responded with a soft "Mm." He then crossed the main hall, walked through the willow garden, and entered the backyard. His primary teacher, Master Cen, lived and kept his study in the northeast corner of the rear courtyard.

Upon reaching the door, Luan Yi knocked lightly. After a bout of fierce coughing from inside, a hoarse voice said, "Come in!"

Lowering his gaze respectfully, Luan Yi pushed open the door. The scent of burning charcoal mingled with a warm, cozy air greeted him. He tiptoed to the couch, glanced at the thin, elderly man before him, and bowed deeply. "Student Luan Yi greets his honored teacher. I wish you a swift recovery."

Master Cen nodded and said impassively, "You little rascal, you do have a glib tongue."

Luan Yi was preparing himself to hear the reason he had been summoned, but to his surprise, Master Cen fell silent, neither telling him to rise nor speaking further. He left Luan Yi standing awkwardly, continuing to read his own book.

Luan Yi was at a loss—he couldn't leave, nor could he advance. All he could do was remain bowed in the room, foolishly waiting.

An entire hour passed before Master Cen finally spoke. "You may rise."

Luan Yi exhaled in relief, gently massaging his sore back.

"Are you satisfied with your results this time?"

Luan Yi quickly nodded. "Yes, very satisfied." How could he say otherwise? To express dissatisfaction would be to defy his teacher and risk expulsion.

"Satisfied?" Master Cen tossed aside his book, his beard bristling with anger. "You're content with a score like that? All my teaching wasted on you!"

Sweat broke out on Luan Yi's brow. He realized the old master was far more cunning than he appeared; no matter how he answered, it was bound to be wrong. He instantly knelt down. "No, I am not satisfied. I will redouble my efforts and strive for an excellent grade next time."

Master Cen’s tone softened. "That's more like it. Do you know where you went wrong this time?"

Luan Yi scratched his head and shook it. "I am ashamed to admit, I do not."

"You do not?" Master Cen’s brows furrowed again. "Then tell me: The Master said, 'To learn and at due times to practice what one has learned, is this not a pleasure?'—what does that mean?"

Luan Yi’s eyes brightened. Of all questions, even a modern elementary student would know this one. He replied confidently, "The Master says: One should often review what one has learned!"

"Oh?" Master Cen snorted coldly. "Think again. Is that really the meaning?"

Luan Yi's mind grew unsettled. He reconsidered the phrase: 'at due times' as 'often', 'to practice' as 'to review'. "Yes, I'm sure! The Master is teaching us to regularly review our learned knowledge."

"Is that so?" Master Cen’s beard bristled again. He snatched a ruler from the desk, glaring at Luan Yi. "Give me your hand."

Luan Yi pulled a woeful face and reluctantly extended his hand.

"Your right hand is for writing. Give me your left."

Luan Yi complied, his features scrunching in anticipation.

Without hesitation, Master Cen raised the ruler and brought it down with a crack. "Let this teach you not to daydream in class! Not to ignore your lessons!" He struck thirty times, then, unsatisfied, made it fifty in all, leaving Luan Yi’s left hand red and swollen.

Master Cen stroked his disheveled beard, panting from the exertion. After a moment, he said sternly, "This is your punishment for carelessly translating the words of the sages."

"Eh?" Luan Yi looked utterly baffled.

"Enough!" Master Cen sighed heavily, fixing Luan Yi with a penetrating gaze. "Listen well; I will say this only once. The Master said, 'To learn and at due times to practice what one has learned, is this not a pleasure?' He means that one should put what one has learned into practice at the appropriate moment—is that not a great joy?"

At these words, it was as if a thunderclap exploded in Luan Yi’s mind, and he was suddenly enlightened. At last, he understood why so many points had been deducted in the test, and why the old master had taken him to task. It turned out that, in the Han dynasty, the commentaries on the classics differed from later interpretations. His modern answer had displeased his ancient teacher, who considered it heretical. And heresy, if serious, could result in expulsion.

Luan Yi was seized with terror, afraid that Master Cen might expel him from Yingchuan Academy. Now, with his older brother gone, the hopes of the entire Luan family rested on him. If expelled, his reputation would be ruined, and he could forget about ever entering the ranks of the gentry. But then he thought: if Master Cen truly wanted to expel him, a written notice would suffice—why go to such lengths, summoning him, punishing him, using the ruler? Clearly, the teacher had no intention of dismissing him. Only then did Luan Yi’s heart settle. Nevertheless, he maintained a humble posture, bowing repeatedly to beg forgiveness.

"Rise," said Master Cen.

"Thank you for your mercy," Luan Yi said, bowing once more before standing.

"In the future, focus on your studies. Do not let your mind wander in class. If you answer with heretical ideas again and fail to achieve an excellent result, do not blame me for being merciless," Master Cen said sternly, his face set in a severe expression.

Luan Yi dared not delay, vowing repeatedly to obey.

"Enough! You may go," Master Cen waved him away. Only after Luan Yi’s figure had vanished did the teacher’s usually unchanging face show a fleeting smile. He murmured to himself, "Such a green lad."

In truth, since the beginning of the term, Master Cen had been paying close attention to the new students, Luan Yi among them. At first, he found Luan Yi inattentive in class, often daydreaming or even dozing, rarely reading outside of lessons and preferring to play. He concluded Luan Yi was unteachable and resolved to let him be, expecting to expel him at the year-end exam for poor performance. Yet, to his surprise, Luan Yi answered fluently during the final test, and though some answers diverged from the accepted interpretations, they were not without merit on closer inspection.

"Could it be that this boy has a prodigious memory?" Master Cen pondered. He began to suspect Luan Yi possessed outstanding talent. Coupled with the widely circulated rumors of an auspicious sign at his birth, Master Cen became convinced that Luan Yi was a rough gem worth shaping—if only his intelligence could be properly directed. Thus, he orchestrated this conversation, hoping a small punishment would spur Luan Yi to greater diligence.

What Master Cen did not know was that such elaborate measures were unnecessary. Since his elder brother’s death and his own disappointing exam results, Luan Yi had already resolved to abandon his former idleness and devote himself to study, determined to make something of himself in the future.

Returning from the back courtyard to the front, Luan Yi glanced at the sky—it was already late afternoon, time for the evening meal. He brushed the dust from his knees, passed through the west gate, and entered the culinary hall where the academy students dined.

The dining area comprised five thatched cottages, with a main kitchen and two side rooms to the west; the main kitchen was in the center, the side rooms housed the cooks and servants. To the north and south were three large rooms each—the northern rooms, facing south, were for the gentry students, the southern rooms for those from humble backgrounds.

At this hour, the hall was crowded with students coming and going. Guo Jia, Shan Fu, Xi Zhicai, and Mao Jie stood in the yard, and on seeing Luan Yi approach, hurried over. "Hey, Brother Yi, you’re late! We’ve been waiting so long. Come, let’s eat together!"

"There’s no need to wait for me. If you’re hungry, you should eat first." Their loyalty warmed Luan Yi’s heart.

"How could we? Didn’t you say on our first day that entering the academy together was fate, and that we should treat each other as brothers? If we’re brothers, we share both fortune and hardship," Mao Jie said earnestly, with little Guo Jia nodding in agreement.

"I said that?" Luan Yi couldn’t recall ever being so sentimental.

Guo Jia corrected him, reminding him that on their first day, when the three had met in the dormitory, Luan Yi had indeed spoken those words.

Vaguely, Luan Yi began to remember. Most likely, when he first met these future luminaries of the Three Kingdoms, he had tried to win their favor with such chivalrous words. He hadn’t expected his casual remark to be so well remembered. He laughed and said, "Indeed, we should share both good times and bad."

As the four chatted and joked, a shrill, mocking voice suddenly rang out from the entrance: "What’s that stench in the hall? Oh, it’s the stink of money! You lot—are you reeking of copper or not?"

A burst of arrogant laughter followed.

Guo Jia, hearing the words clearly aimed at his elder brother Luan Yi, immediately burned with anger. He rolled up his sleeves, ready to confront the speaker, but Luan Yi pulled him back with a cold laugh. "Don’t stoop to their level. If a dog bites a man, must the man bite back?"

"You…" The newcomer was infuriated, but for a moment could think of no retort, his face flushing red. "You lowly merchant, I think you need a lesson." He rolled up his embroidered sleeves, preparing to strike Luan Yi, and the five gentry students behind him all looked eager, as if they would not rest until Luan Yi and his friends were beaten.

Seeing the situation about to escalate, Guo Jia lost his nerve, shrinking behind the older Luan Yi, his voice trembling. "Wei Zhe, I warn you, this is the academy, not some rundown alley. If the teachers find out you’re starting a fight, you’ll be expelled!"

The gentry student called Wei Zhe paused, then grinned wickedly. "Only sons of humble families get expelled. Do you know who I am? General Wei Qing was my ancestor. If I teach you bugs a lesson here, the teachers won’t care in the slightest."