Chapter Nine: Learning to Read and Write

The next morning, after breakfast, Ankang was preparing to go to Doctor Lu’s house to copy medical texts. Anyi hurriedly finished her porridge and called out, “Big brother, wait for me, I want to come too.”

“What are you going for?” Ankang asked in confusion.

“To read books.” Anyi wanted to find out what era she was in from the books. Judging by the clothing and hairstyles, it was neither the Yuan nor the Qing dynasty—was it the Song or the Ming?

Ankang burst out laughing and tapped her nose with his finger. “You can’t even read—what’s the point of looking at books?”

Anyi was slightly taken aback. She hadn’t realized that, at seven years old, she was still illiterate. Not being able to read would make many things less straightforward. She hopped down from her chair, went over and tugged at Ankang’s sleeve, saying, “Then, big brother, teach me to read when you come home.”

“Well, well! Our Xier has had a bout of illness, and not only does she want to learn embroidery, she’s willing to learn words as well. It seems this illness was not such a bad thing after all.” Madam Luo teased as she wiped Anyi’s mouth with a soft cloth.

“Mother!” Anyi called out, feigning annoyance. Having accepted Madam Luo as her mother, she now acted the part with ease and affection.

Anjian quickly finished his porridge, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and said, “Sister, second brother can teach you to read.”

“You rascal, using your sleeve to wipe your mouth again! How many times have I told you not to do that? You never change—messy and filthy.” Madam Luo scolded.

Anjian shrank his neck, laughed sheepishly, and hurried off to the kitchen to clear away the bowls and chopsticks. After washing up, he fetched a book he was reading from the next room, sat down in front of Anyi, and said cheerfully, “Sister, let’s learn some words. I’ll read a line and you repeat after me. ‘Heaven and earth are mysterious and yellow, the universe vast and wild. The sun and moon wax and wane, the stars spread out in rows.’”

“Heaven and earth are mysterious and yellow, the universe vast and wild. The sun and moon wax and wane, the stars spread out in rows.” Anyi was very familiar with the Thousand Character Classic. Her grandfather, who was a lover of classical texts, had raised her mother to be a cultivated lady with a taste for tradition, and when she was little, her mother had taught her to recite this very book. Who would have thought that the first text she would read here would once again be the Thousand Character Classic?

The Thousand Character Classic was compiled during the Southern Liang dynasty by Zhou Xing-si at the emperor’s command, selecting a thousand characters from Wang Xizhi’s calligraphy. From the Song and Ming onward until late Qing, the Thousand Character Classic, Three Character Classic, and Hundred Family Surnames were all children’s primers. But the text alone gave her no clue as to the dynasty she was in. The clothing of the Song and Ming was different, but unfortunately she had no expertise in that area and couldn’t deduce what she wanted to know.

“Winter’s chill yields to summer’s heat, autumn reaps and winter stores. The leap month completes the year, harmonies adjust the yang.” Anjian continued.

“Winter’s chill yields to summer’s heat, autumn reaps and winter stores. The leap month completes the year, harmonies adjust the yang.” In the modern age, in order to study the properties of certain rare herbs, Anyi had read many ancient medical texts in traditional script, so she wasn’t unfamiliar with the characters. Yet now, learning from Anjian, she had to pretend to be illiterate. Anjian wasn’t much of a teacher either—he didn’t explain the meaning, only made her rote memorize. If she truly were a seven-year-old girl, she’d have found it dreadfully dull.

Anjian recited the entire Thousand Character Classic in one go, then taught it twice more. Then he pointed to a section in the middle and asked, “Sister, how do you read these lines?”

Anyi glanced at Anjian, hesitating. Should she act the genius or the fool? In a flash, she made up her mind, lowered her eyes, and read, “The brocade returns to Han Hui, recounting Wu Ding’s gratitude. The worthy and the just are many, the officials all at peace.”

Anjian tested her a few more times, and Anyi recited them all without a mistake. Delighted, he shouted, “Mother, mother!”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” Madam Luo responded as she entered. “What is it, what is it?”

“Mother, my sister is so smart! I taught her three times and she knows all the characters in the Thousand Character Classic!” Anjian boasted, proud of his clever pupil.

Madam Luo beamed, walked over, cupped Anyi’s little face in her hands, kissed her on the forehead, and praised her, “Mother’s good girl is so clever.”

Anyi’s expression shifted slightly, her eyes shimmering. Madam Luo’s face overlapped with the one deep in her memory. When she was a child, whenever she finished a zither piece or completed a painting, her mother would also kiss her on the forehead and softly praise her.

Noticing the change in Anyi’s expression, Madam Luo grew anxious and asked, “Xier, what’s wrong? Is it too tiring to study?”

Anyi pulled herself together and, meeting Madam Luo’s concerned gaze, felt a warmth in her heart. She gently shook her head and said, “Mother, it’s not tiring—I like learning to read.”

Madam Luo patted her head and smiled, “Mother knows you’re growing up and sensible now, but you mustn’t rush things. You’ve learned enough characters for today. Have a rest, and pick up again tomorrow.”

“Second brother, let’s continue tomorrow.” After so much studying, Anyi was tired.

“Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to write,” Anjian said with a smile.

Anyi frowned slightly. She doubted the family could spare the money for paper and brushes for her to practice. As she hesitated, Madam Luo added, “It’s too cold to practice on the stone slab—your hands will freeze. Wait until the weather warms up, then you can teach your sister to write.”

Anyi’s doubts were resolved. Human ingenuity knows no bounds; she remembered a story of an ancient scholar who practiced his calligraphy using water as ink and a slab of stone as his page, eventually mastering beautiful handwriting.

At noon, Ankang returned from the Lu family, holding several sheets of red paper. “Mother, Doctor Lu gave me some red paper.”

“Why are you accepting things from others again? Isn’t it awkward?” Madam Luo frowned.

“It was Doctor Lu who insisted. I even lied and said we’d already bought some, but he still made me take it. I had no choice,” Ankang replied helplessly.

Anjian pursed his lips. “A few sheets of red paper cost hardly anything. We gave him over a jin of cicada sloughs—those would fetch a good price at the pharmacy…”

“Brother, how can you say that? We collected cicada sloughs for Doctor Lu to thank him for looking after us. He doesn’t owe us anything,” Ankang said sternly.

Madam Luo glared at Anjian. “Zhuzi, have all your years of study been for nothing? Haven’t you learned to remember a favor for a thousand years?”

Scolded by both his mother and brother, Anjian hung his head in shame.

Hearing mention of cicada sloughs, Anyi’s mind turned. She asked, “Big brother, does anyone in the village collect cicada sloughs to sell?”

“Yes, Luo Baifu does. He collects cicada sloughs, catches centipedes and scorpions, and sells them at the city pharmacy. All of them are medicinal,” Ankang replied.

“He only collects cicada sloughs and catches centipedes and scorpions? Doesn’t he dig up herbs?” Anyi was planning to earn money by selling herbs and took this chance to find out about the competition.

“There are too many herbs on the mountain—he doesn’t recognize them all and is afraid of digging up something poisonous. Sometimes Doctor Lu goes up the mountain to gather herbs himself,” Ankang said, glancing at Anjian. “Last time your second brother was stung by wild bees, Doctor Lu went up the mountain at night to gather herbs and cured him.”

“Big brother, I know I was wrong, please don’t say any more,” Anjian muttered.

“Zhuzi, tidy up—let’s eat,” Madam Luo said, seeing that Anjian had admitted his mistake and not wanting Ankang to scold him further.

---A side note: Dear readers, if you enjoyed this, please add it to your favorites and support Qianxue. She needs your encouragement!