Chapter Sixty-Four: The Secret Manual Burns After Reading

Seeing that he remained silent, Head Steward Ma quickly took a small silver ingot from his pouch and slipped it into Su Lu’s sleeve. “Of course, I won’t let you run around for nothing… Is one tael enough? If not, I’ll have someone send more.”

“I need to consult my brother about this,” Su Lu returned the money to Ma, saying, “Why are you in such a hurry to pay me?”

“Take it. Money I spend never comes back!” Ma waved his hand with a flourish. “If your brother’s busy, just wait until he has time to forge it for me. Treat this as a deposit!”

To Su Lu’s surprise, the steward was quite the generous sort. Looking at his thick eyebrows and broad features, Su Lu found him much more agreeable and accepted with a smile, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a definite answer by tomorrow.”

While they spoke, the two entered the Pure Heart Gate and came before the Hall of Southern Learning. There, on the double-eaved hall’s columns, hung a couplet:

“Discipline body and mind to ascend the sacred domain, let skill in writing not be measured; Receive and pass on the teachings of the wise, together strive with diligence and effort.”

Ma Qianli led Su Lu inside, just as Vice Dean Qian was coming out.

“This is Su Lu?” Qian Huairen was on familiar terms with Ma Qianli.

“Yes,” Ma answered respectfully.

“Very well, you may go back.” Qian waved Ma off, then turned to Su Lu. “Come with me to see the Dean.”

“Yes.” Both answered simultaneously, inwardly surprised—was awarding a prize really enough to warrant a meeting with the Dean?

~~~

Su Lu followed Qian Huairen into the Dean’s study.

Though called a study, the room was not spacious, and with books piled everywhere, it seemed even more cramped.

When they entered, Zhu Liu was hunched over his desk, writing intently.

Qian waited patiently, not disturbing him until he finally looked up. Then Qian softly announced, “Dean, Su Lu is here.”

“Good, come in.” Zhu Liu greeted Su Lu with a smile. “Sit wherever you like. Let me finish today’s assignment.”

“Yes.” Su Lu and Qian Huairen sat on a row of official’s chairs against the wall.

Vice Dean Qian whispered, “Surprised, aren’t you? Even as Dean, he practices writing daily. How can you young people afford to slack?”

“Yes, sir.” Su Lu was awed. Whatever else could be said, the academy’s scholarly atmosphere was as upright as could be, with the Dean himself leading by example…

“Don’t listen to old Qian’s nonsense. I’m not doing it to set an example,” Zhu Liu said with a wry smile. “It’s simply that my academic pursuits remain unfinished, and I have no choice.”

“I see.” Su Lu had heard that, after passing the provincial exam at nineteen, the Dean had failed the metropolitan exam four times in a row…

“Stop with the constant ‘yes, yes.’ No need to be so formal—it’s not a classroom,” Zhu Liu said breezily. “I called you here to thank you.”

Su Lu was puzzled. “I haven’t done anything deserving, sir.”

“Your essay.” Zhu Liu admitted candidly, “Its structure gave me considerable inspiration. My writing today felt much more organized than usual.”

“Truly?” Qian Huairen was astonished. At his level, progress was nearly impossible, let alone for the Dean, who had sat for the metropolitan exam four times.

“Yes—it’s as the saying goes, ‘Of three men walking together, one can be my teacher.’” Zhu Liu smiled. “From now on, whenever you write an essay, you must bring it to me first.”

“It would be my honor, if you don’t mind my humble efforts.” Su Lu quickly stood and saluted. Having a scholar review his work was a rare opportunity.

“No matter. I’ll treat it as reading vernacular prose,” Zhu Liu said, then grew serious. “But you must improve your literary style quickly. We all admire your talent, but rules are rules. If your style doesn’t meet the standard, we can’t give you marks.”

“Yes, I understand.” Su Lu nodded. Far from feeling aggrieved, he was pleased. All he ever sought was to follow rules, even if only relative ones…

“Mr. Zhang has begun teaching me parallel structure. In the evenings, I study rhyme and meter with my father, hoping to improve bit by bit.”

~~~

“Mr. Zhang’s method is orthodox, but it’s too slow,” Zhu Liu said meaningfully. “Following his approach, you’ll score zero again next month—and be expelled the month after.”

“Please teach me, sir.” Su Lu sensed there was more behind his words.

“This set of ‘The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons’ is your prize.” Zhu Liu pushed a blue silk-bound book chest toward him. “This book is invaluable for improving your writing. Read it carefully, study it with your heart.”

“Is that so?” Su Lu was overjoyed.

“Yes. It’s a monumental work on the art of writing,” Qian Huairen nodded. “It discusses, in detail, sound, vocabulary, grammar, structure of all literary forms. Even I, each time I reread it, find something new.”

“You may begin with the chapters ‘On the Way,’ ‘Respecting the Classics,’ and ‘On Poetry.’ Grasp the theory, then use it to study the classics. For example, explore the ‘hidden elegance’ in Du Fu’s poetry, or the structure of the eight-legged essay. Then try transforming theory into creative skill,” the Dean advised.

Su Lu agreed gratefully, though a doubt lingered in his heart—was this not also slow, foundational work? How much faster could it be?

~~~

He found the answer that night…

After finishing his assignments, Su Lu opened the copy of ‘The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons’ the Dean had given him, eager to read.

He always began by skimming a book to get its gist. This one had two volumes; the first, in his hands, contained twenty-five chapters. The first five were general discussions on the essence of writing. Then came twenty chapters on literary forms—ten on rhymed works like ‘On Poetry’ and ‘Yuefu,’ and ten on unrhymed forms like ‘History’ and ‘Philosophy.’ Each discussed style, history, and techniques. The entire work was written in parallel prose, making it a literary masterpiece in itself.

Following the Dean’s instructions, Su Lu turned to ‘On the Way,’ but found a sheet of paper slipped inside. He thought it a bookseller’s insert, but curiosity led him to unfold it—and his eyes nearly popped out—

At the top it read: “Secret Techniques—Burn After Reading!”

Below, in tiny script: “Writing well requires painstaking effort, yet exam essays have their own tricks for instant effect. Such writing may lack beauty, yet can rise above mediocrity. The following methods are for your eyes only—do not pass them on.”

Su Lu was dumbfounded. The usually stern and upright Dean had secretly passed him exam-writing secrets—and, embarrassed by the unorthodox methods, asked him to keep it confidential?

So the world really was full of ordinary people, only wrapped in different shells of identity, appearing different on the surface…

Beside him, Su Youcai remarked, “Brother Qiu, your jaw’s about to hit the table.”

“Oh.” Su Lu propped up his chin and eagerly began reading the Dean’s “secret manual”—

“First Formula: Optimization of Sound and Rhythm.”

“In couplets, end with a level tone; harmonious rhymes like ‘guiding, shining, flourishing.’ The opening and key lines must strictly follow the rules; end with a level word to give fullness. For long lines, divide into six and four, creating natural rhythm. Reading aloud, the cadence flows, the meaning shines through.”

Su Lu needed no explanation; he understood: Even-numbered lines must end with level-tone rhymes like ‘guiding, shining, flourishing.’ Key segments start with an oblique and resolve to a level tone. Long lines are split into paired phrases for greater rhythm.

Then came “Second Formula: Alternating Sentence Lengths.”

“Three-word lines paired with seven-word lines create a lively rhythm. Short and long lines alternate, generating natural rhyme. Short lines end with verbs, sharp and forceful, like ‘cultivate virtue, govern wisely.’ Long lines end with nouns, leaving the piece clear. Short lines with empty words set the rhyme. Natural pauses emerge—no need for forced punctuation—avoiding prose that drones like a stream.”

He understood: alternate three-character and seven-character lines to create rhythm. Short sentences end with verbs, long ones with nouns. This variation builds natural pauses and avoids monotonous prose.

“Third Formula: Filling with Function Words.”

“Use functional words to balance the tone—‘zhi, er, yu, hu’ linking cleverly. Smooth transitions add elegance; beginnings and endings are refined. A single word threads sentences, half a word connects ideas. Never think function words unimportant; used skillfully, their charm endures.”

This meant to use classical function words to pad for rhyme and smoothness…

He checked ‘Respecting the Classics’ and ‘On Poetry’ and found, as expected, a secret note in each—each with three techniques: “Elegant Word Substitution,” “Strengthening Parallelism”… Together with the first page’s three, he now had a complete set—a literary “Nine Swords”!

Holding the three pages, Su Lu was so excited he finally understood why the Dean had been so secretive.

Because the Dean, like himself, was one of those test-takers despised by examiners…

Examiners naturally wished all candidates would answer as intended, so the exams could function as fair selection. But those skilled in exam techniques disrupted this, and disadvantaged others who knew not the tricks.

First, when talent and effort were equal, skillful candidates would outscore the unskilled, knocking them out of contention.

Second, to counteract the “test-takers,” examiners had to make questions harder, more eccentric, further distorting the process and making success even harder for the unskilled.

Of course, Su Lu never saw himself as a rule-breaker. On the contrary, he saw himself as a defender of fairness—by teaching more people these techniques, making all examinees skillful test-takers, fairness could be restored!

~~~

The night on Mount Wumeng was warm, the round moon hung on the treetops, and the evening breeze carried the scent of orchids.

Zhu Liu and Qian Huairen sat in the courtyard of the Dean’s small house, sipping tea at leisure.

“Why do you value that boy so much?” Qian Huairen asked quietly. He didn’t yet know about the secret manual, but already sensed the Dean’s high regard for Su Lu.

Zhu Liu leaned back in his bamboo chair, holding a thin porcelain cup between three fingers, and replied with a faint smile, “As ‘The Preface to the Prince of Teng’s Pavilion’ was to Wang Zian, a single essay is enough.”

“Pfft…” Qian nearly spat out his tea, hastily wiping his mouth. “A zero-mark essay, compared to the ‘Preface to the Prince of Teng’s Pavilion’?”

“You haven’t the vision to see it,” Zhu Liu said, all levity gone, his expression complex. “I was fifth in the province at nineteen, yet failed the metropolitan exam four times. In twelve years, I sought out every great teacher, traveled to the Southern Academy, visited both the Qian and Wang schools. My writing hasn’t improved, but I know exactly what kind of person becomes a master of the Eight-Legged Essay.”

“You mean that boy will become a master?” Qian raised an eyebrow.

“Who can say for certain? But it’s very likely.” Zhu Liu sipped his fragrant tea and set the cup down. “In him, I see a rare and lofty perspective. Watching him write is like seeing someone stand on a high eave and pour water down.”

“High roof, pouring down?” Qian murmured.

“Exactly.” Zhu Liu nodded. “It’s the same feeling as when I watched Wang Bo write the ‘Preface to the Prince of Teng’s Pavilion.’”

“Especially those opening lines—” He softly recited, “The old commandery of Yuzhang, the new prefecture of Hongdu. The stars divide between Yi and Zhen, the land connects to Heng and Lu!”

“And those first four lines of Su Lu’s essay—‘Human nature is constant, guiding it brings order; understanding is hard to force, but following it brings peace!’” He sighed in admiration. “See how alike they feel? The difference is only that Wang Bo stands on the pavilion gazing at the grand landscape, while Su Lu stands atop the Analects, looking back at the sages of all ages.”

Qian nodded, though he thought the Dean was exaggerating. Even one as mild as he was, felt awkward agreeing.

“His vantage point in writing, his command of the structure, already show the makings of a master. And he’s only been studying two months—what will he be like in two years?” Zhu Liu could not help but imagine the future.