Chapter Forty-Eight: The Book Chest, Rations, and Love

The last courtyard of the academy housed the kitchen, dining hall, and storerooms. Since Su Lu and Su Dan planned to bring their own meals, they had no need to go there. Their family was still waiting outside the ceremonial gate, so the two did not linger, hurrying out to rejoin them.

Sensing both boys were preoccupied, Su Youcai asked as they left the academy, “What happened?”

“Sir, it’s possible we’ll have to come home in a few months,” Su Dan answered gloomily, handing him the copy of the academy rules.

“What?” Su Youcai took it and, reading through, his face changed dramatically. “The Promotion and Grading System? I’ve never heard of this before. Who decided to import the Imperial Academy’s methods?”

“They say it’s the new Headmaster. Last year’s examination essay topics were his doing as well,” Su Lu replied with a bitter smile. “This is just our luck, what can we do?”

“Ah…” Su Youcai heaved a deep sigh. “I should have anticipated this. A new official always wants to make changes. Besides, I hear Headmaster Zhu passed the provincial exam before he was twenty; naturally, he has high standards and wants only the very best students.”

“You’re right, Father. Didn’t my brother say that, starting this year, the top students can attend their final year at Crane Mountain Academy? That was also something Headmaster Zhu secured,” Su Lu agreed. “He’s laid his cards on the table—this is the path he’s chosen.”

“But this leaves ordinary students like us in a tough spot,” Su Dan lamented. He was only tenth from the bottom of his class.

No wonder he’d lost the nerve to argue with anyone lately…

“It’s my fault—all my fault,” Su Youcai said, blushing with shame. “Afraid of leading you astray, I never dared teach you essay composition. Now you’ll suffer for it.”

Although the academy rules didn’t explicitly state that the monthly assessment would be on eight-legged essays, the grading criteria were clear: ‘Those excellent in both diction and reasoning are top-grade, those strong in reasoning and average in diction are mid-grade…’

That was plainly the standard for eight-legged essays!

And since Taiping Academy was committed to producing licentiates, what else would it test its students on?

“Father, you shouldn’t blame yourself. No one can foresee the future. You’ve only taught at the clan school for a year; of course you’d focus on the basics first,” Su Lu said, eager to defend his father. Turning to Su Dan, he added, “My brother told me he’d never learned essay composition before entering, but caught up with his peers in half a year. The exams aren’t until two months after term starts, right? Let’s work hard together and gnaw our way through this tough bone of essay writing!”

“Alright,” Su Dan nodded determinedly. “No fear, no disgrace!”

“Well said—no disgrace!” Su Lu laughed heartily. “Let’s see how quickly we can get home!”

With that, he set off at a brisk pace.

“Wait for me!” Su Dan called after him.

“If you can’t keep up, you’ll just have to be left behind,” Su Lu replied, picking up speed.

“Watch me catch you!” Su Dan quickly stretched his legs and followed close behind.

The two boys chased and raced, soon leaving the adults far behind and out of sight, their worries about the future forgotten—at least for a while.

~~

After parting ways with Su Dan, Su Lu hurried home, covered in dust. He had just finished washing up when he saw his second brother beckoning to him mysteriously from the storeroom door.

Su Tai had shut himself away for days, refusing to let anyone in. At last, the mystery would be revealed.

As soon as Su Lu entered the storeroom, he saw a beautifully crafted book chest displayed on the table.

It was clear his second brother had made it for him by hand.

“How do you like it?” Su Tai asked, beaming with pride.

“It’s stunning!” Su Lu’s eyes widened. The case, lacquered with tung oil, gleamed amber in the afternoon light.

The body was made from aged nan bamboo, split and polished to a smooth, jade-like finish, with each strip fitted snugly together. The inner frame was pine, so light that Su Lu could lift it easily with one hand.

The edge of the lid was just as finely polished—silky smooth to the touch. When closed, the spring snapped into the groove with a pleasing click, sealing it so tightly not even a sheet of paper could slip through.

To spare his hands, his brother had even wound indigo cotton cord around the handle.

Inside, the box was divided into three layers. The top tray was shallow and designed for writing implements, with grooves for brushes, inkstone, and even a water dropper, all lined with coarse indigo cloth to prevent slippage.

“Each layer is independent,” his brother explained, lifting the tray out. “At the academy, you can use the top as a stationery case. After class, you just put it back, and it’ll keep your books below dry if it rains.”

“But the ink box isn’t here—I placed it in the bottom layer. That way, if ink spills, it won’t ruin your books,” his brother added.

“You’ve thought of everything!” Su Lu was at a loss for words, giving only a vigorous thumbs-up.

The middle layer had double doors and the most space, enough for two stacks—twenty volumes in all! Lined with waterproof oilcloth to protect precious books, it featured removable dividers for organizing and securing them against jostling.

The bottom returned to a drawer style, meant for his lunch box, with two compartments on the side: one for pickles, the other for the ink box.

There were also two bamboo tubes on either side of the chest—one held a water bottle, the other a roll of waterproof cloth.

His brother demonstrated, “If it looks like rain, just pull out the oilcloth. Inside are two ribs that fit into the bamboo tubes—presto, a rain curtain! In a light shower, you’ll stay dry, walking staff in hand, sandals on your feet, outpacing even a horse.”

“If it’s pouring, just wrap yourself and the chest together in the oilcloth.”

He finished and asked the dumbstruck Su Lu, “Anything you’re not satisfied with? I can still make adjustments.”

“It’s perfect in every way,” Su Lu replied, shaking his head. “Your book chest is a masterpiece. Thank you, brother!” He gave him a big hug, though his brother was so broad he couldn’t get his arms all the way around.

“For the sake of such a wonderful book chest, I absolutely can’t let them send me home halfway!” Su Lu vowed.

~~

That night, after packing his book chest, Su Lu began memorizing the academy rules.

The “Taiping Academy Regulations” consisted of twenty-one articles: residence, respect for teachers, supervision, division of dormitories, leave, specialties, journal keeping, etiquette, assessment, lectures, terms, assignments, book provision, book management, curfew, house rules, adherence to law, regular study, supplementary courses, prevention of malpractice, and graduation.

These twenty-one rules covered every aspect of academy life in detail, far more comprehensive than the “Ten Commandments and Nine Principles” of primary learning. Most importantly, they clearly laid out procedures for rewards and punishments, turning vague expectations into practical regulations.

For example, Article Eleven, “Terms,” stated: From March to the twelfth month each year, there are ten terms; in a leap year, one extra. Assessments are held mid-term, results posted publicly, and the top ten students awarded according to rank.

Or the “Promotion and Grading System,” which stipulated that students scoring less than eight points would be expelled—this was detailed in Article Nine, “Assessment.”

For Su Lu, memorizing these rules was a trivial task. To fully grasp the system and avoid mistakes, he even copied them out by hand before going to bed early.

That night, Su Lu found it hard to sleep; not even his brother’s snores could drown out his thoughts.

~~

The next morning, before the rooster crowed, he was already awake.

Su Lu couldn’t help but smile wryly to himself—was he really so excited just to go to school?

Fortunately, youth made up for a restless night. He slipped out of bed and went to the courtyard to wash up.

He noticed an orange glow coming from the kitchen—his aunt was up even earlier than he was.

Her attitude toward him had greatly improved lately. Though Su Lu was not quick to forget past grievances, he was even quicker to feel gratitude; so, he approached her with newfound respect and greeted her softly, “Aunt, you’re up so early?”

With one hand stirring a pot of sorghum porridge and the other reaching into the hanging basket for a cake, she replied, “Try this and see—if it’s not good, you can blame me!”

Su Lu’s throat instinctively tightened at the sight of the sorghum cake, but he politely declined, “I’ll try a piece with the porridge when it’s ready.”

“Don’t worry, this time it’s different. I spent a whole day steaming these—best you’ve ever tasted.” She was full of confidence. “You can’t judge when it’s hot, so I let it cool just for you!”

“Thank you for your trouble…” Su Lu’s curiosity was piqued. The moment he took the cake, he noticed it felt different—gone was the hard, heavy texture of the kind that could double as a throwing weapon. Instead, it was soft enough to leave a dent when squeezed.

He took a bite and found it no longer coarse or scratchy; rather, it was surprisingly delicate. The rich aroma of sorghum, with a hint of sweetness, filled his mouth. Any roughness was instantly overwhelmed by its delicious flavor.

“How is it?” his aunt asked, watching his expression change.

“It’s wonderful…” Su Lu shook his head, savoring the treat. Before, he ate slowly because it was hard to swallow; now, he just wanted to make it last.

“Don’t just eat it plain—try some of the pickles I made for you,” she said, opening a small porcelain jar and spooning out a glistening helping of preserved greens.

He tasted it and discovered there were even bits of cured pork mixed in. The oil had been fully absorbed by the pickles, creating a rich and savory taste that made the cake even more delicious.

“Two cakes and some pickles for lunch every day—you’ll have all your classmates drooling with envy!” she said, clearly no stranger to packing such meals.

It was Su Lu’s first time eating like this, and he couldn’t praise it enough. “If I can’t have this again, what will I do?”

“Don’t worry. As long as you’re in school, I’ll make it for you, just like I did for your brother!” She set his meal standard for the next three years.

“Aunt, I was only joking. Eating like this is too extravagant—just an occasional treat is enough,” Su Lu replied sensibly.

“Nonsense! The money you save should go straight to your stomach,” she declared grandly. “You’re still growing—if you don’t get tall, how will you ever find a wife?”

“Thank you, Auntie…” Su Lu was overwhelmed; never in either of his lives had he been shown such kindness by her. Taking another bite, he sighed contentedly, “I thought I had to pass the licentiate exam before I could eat like this.”

“If you pass, I’ll give you white rice and fine wheat every day!” Even a slow-witted aunt knew how to encourage him now. “Study hard—when your brother passes, you’ll be next!”

“Yes!” Su Lu nodded vigorously.

~~

After enjoying his aunt’s loving breakfast, Su Lu slung the book chest over his back, grabbed his piping-hot lunch bag, and hurried down the stilt-house stairs to meet Su Dan—they set out for the academy together!

The morning star still hung in the eastern sky, lighting the way for the boys as they strode into the dawn.