Chapter Eight: Autumn Brother Never Sleeps in Vain

The full moon illuminated the Chishui River, casting its gentle glow over Erlang Beach, now shrouded in tranquility. Only one stilted wooden house still had its lamp burning.

Su Lu sat at the table, gripping his father’s old brush pen, struggling to copy out the “Hundred Surnames.”

The lamplight flickered, casting shadows across Su Lu’s handsomely pained face—one that seemed perpetually troubled. He had never imagined that writing could be such a difficult task…

He faced two obstacles. First, he had only attended a few calligraphy lessons in primary school, and that was in a previous life; he could scarcely remember how to hold the brush properly. Second, as for these traditional characters, he knew how to read them but not how to write them, so he could only painstakingly imitate them stroke by stroke.

Still, he believed these difficulties were temporary. Whether brush script or traditional characters, these were the most basic skills for a scholar of this era. He refused to believe he could not master them.

There was nothing much to say about brush calligraphy—if you were poor at it, you simply had to practice more. As for traditional characters, Su Lu remembered that only about 2,200 characters had been simplified, and most of those were reductions of radicals. For instance, “speech” became a simpler “speech radical,” “gold” was abbreviated, and so on.

So in truth, there were only about a thousand characters he really needed to memorize. The real challenge was breaking the habit of writing in simplified script—he had to constantly remind himself not to revert.

As for why he labored by lamplight, copying texts before bed, it was not to squeeze in more study, but to employ the “sleep memory method”—a way to reinforce memory.

Su Lu had once researched various memory improvement techniques and knew that after falling asleep, the brain does not rest; rather, it undertakes the crucial task of consolidating memories, transferring the day’s information from short-term, unstable storage to long-term, stable storage.

This was why, sometimes, no matter how much one struggled to memorize something while awake, after a night’s sleep, the recitation might become smooth and the memory deep. The brain works its magic in sleep.

The sleep memory method thus takes full advantage of this trait—reinforcing memory. First, the more you review something right before sleeping, the more the brain will prioritize it during sleep. The hour before bed is the “golden time” for memorization—worth several ordinary hours. Second, handwriting increases memory retention by half compared to merely reading or reciting, which is why Su Lu copied texts by hand before sleeping.

After finishing, he would blow out the lamp and climb into bed, closing his eyes without moving, slowing his heart rate, relaxing completely, and silently reciting the material he had memorized before sleep.

Ideally, once you have reviewed all the knowledge you learned that day, your brain will become drowsy and you’ll drift off—if you fall asleep in that state, your brain will automatically sort information, reinforcing what’s important and discarding the trivial. It was a marvel.

Yet, it was crucial not to let the mind wander at this point. Any surge of emotion—joy, anger, sorrow—could derail the process and undo all the effort.

Of course, this was not easy, for it’s hard to control one’s thoughts before sleep. Su Lu’s strategy was to find an “anchor” to induce a light self-hypnosis.

In his previous life, he had used a life-sized plush of a certain “Silly Hair King.” With repeated self-suggestion, as soon as he embraced it, his mind would automatically return to reviewing the evening’s material, naturally entering the state of memory consolidation.

Here, circumstances were limited, so Su Lu could only try using a bamboo “wife”—a cool bamboo bolster—as a substitute. He hugged the chilly bamboo, emptied his mind of distractions, recalled his recitations, and drifted off into sleep…

The east wing was pitch dark, save for the harmonious snoring of Su Tai.

~~

As dawn broke and the roosters crowed, Su Lu awoke.

He did not open his eyes immediately but reached out to embrace the bamboo “wife” that had rolled aside, then, eyes closed, silently reviewed his memorized material. Accuracy was not important now; the key was to activate the memory traces in the brain.

He discovered that much of the content now surfaced as a conditioned reflex—leaping into his mind without conscious effort. This was the result of the brain’s overnight consolidation. The sleep memory method had worked!

After one review, his mind was fully awake. He leapt out of bed, sat back at the table, and quickly checked the book to see what he had forgotten or misremembered.

He then focused on the sections he had missed, recited the entire passage again, and repeated the process of checking and correcting—this was a complete sleep memory cycle.

One round like this was far more effective than rote cramming for a day or two.

At this moment, Su Youcai and Su Tai also rose. Seeing him in the same posture as the night before, Su Youcai clicked his tongue, “You didn’t stay up all night, did you?”

“No, I just got up.” Su Lu shook his head, just about to write again to reinforce his memory, but he discovered the ink on the brush tip had dried and hardened, making it unusable.

At that moment, his aunt’s voice rang out from the courtyard, “You lazy Buddhas, get up! Have a bite and get up the mountain!”

The three hurried out, hastily washed their faces, and ate a bowl of sorghum gruel in the courtyard, before being herded out to the fields by his aunt as if chased by a vengeful spirit.

Today, his uncle and younger uncle also joined the autumn harvest, hoping to finish the field work in a day.

The two of them were far more adept at the work than Su Lu and Su Youcai, so the father and son’s task became carrying the bagged grain to the drying yard.

On the way back and forth, Su Lu kept muttering his “Hundred Surnames” and “Thousand Character Classic.” Su Youcai was quite pleased, but the villagers shook their heads when they saw them, and after the pair passed, they whispered,

“This Qiu boy, could he have lost his soul too?”

“Yeah, muttering to himself, not greeting anyone.”

“Is this ‘soul loss’ contagious? Ma hasn’t recovered yet, now his nephew’s caught it too.”

“Maybe something dirty has entered their house?”

“Alas, Youcai, you’d better ask a Daoist priest to check on Qiu—this is a bit unnerving…” Finally, a Su family elder couldn’t hold back and raised his voice.

“It’s nothing, Sixth Uncle. I’m having him recite his lessons,” Su Youcai hastily explained. “He needs to concentrate and not get distracted.”

“What? Having Qiu recite lessons? He’s already tired from work—why put him through more?”

Everyone immediately felt sorry for Qiu. They had watched him grow up and knew well enough that the boy had always hated studying.

“No wonder he’s not greeting people—he must be so upset…” Sixth Granduncle sighed. “Such a good child, now turned into a silent gourd.”

“He’s doing it willingly, I didn’t force him,” Su Youcai explained again.

“Willing? You’re fooling ghosts.” No one believed him. Everyone knew Qiu would rather chop wood or herd cattle than go to school.

Seeing the blame shift to himself, Su Youcai only gave a bitter smile and argued no further.

As for Su Lu, no matter what others said, he remained unaffected, reciting his texts as he went—because he had deliberately trained his anti-distraction ability; even in a noisy environment, he could stay focused.

His method for improving concentration was the “Pomodoro Technique”—forcing himself to work undisturbed for one “pomodoro.” The duration varies; for beginners and youths, twenty to twenty-five minutes is suitable. But for adults with higher focus, that’s too short and may break the flow, reducing efficiency, so Su Lu used fifty-minute sessions.

In fact, the duration was less important than repetition and persistence. After twenty-one days and a hundred “pomodoros,” the brain forms a habit, and it becomes very hard to be disturbed during focused periods.

~~

When they returned home for dinner, his aunt had already heard about Su Lu’s odd behavior today. She scrutinized him, saying,

“Qiu, have you lost your soul too? Several neighbors told me you were acting strange, not greeting anyone.”

“It’s nothing, I’m having him memorize his books,” Su Youcai quickly explained again.

“That’s no excuse. Even if you don’t care, our Su family doesn’t need that kind of reputation!” his aunt lectured.

“I’ll just try not to recite in public from now on,” Su Lu replied. He didn’t care what others thought—no amount of praise would get him a special exemption into the academy. He simply didn’t want to make things difficult for his father.

“Ah…” Su Youcai sighed and said to Su Lu, “I told you to memorize it in ten days. Are you feeling pressured? That’s my fault; I was too impatient. How about we change it to twenty days? One text every ten days should be enough.”

“No need. I’ve already memorized them,” Su Lu replied.

“What?” Su Youcai was taken aback yet again. “You only started the ‘Hundred Surnames’ and ‘Thousand Character Classic’ last night, and you’ve already memorized them?”

“My, my…” his aunt sneered, even more skeptical. “Is Qiu boasting again? Husband, how many days did Chun take back then?”

“Chun memorized the ‘Hundred Surnames’ in three days, and the ‘Thousand Character Classic’ in another three!” his uncle declared proudly. “That was already the best in our whole clan.”

“If bright Chun needed six days, and you claim to have done it in one?” his aunt mocked. “You’ll blow all the cattle off Erlang Beach with your bragging.”

“But I have memorized them,” Su Lu said calmly.

“Then recite them for me,” his aunt challenged.

“What are you doing?” his younger aunt quickly defended Su Lu. “The child was already laughed at all day—must you scold him at home too? Can’t you let him eat in peace?”

“Don’t worry, Aunt, I can recite them,” Su Lu smiled gratefully at her, then turned to his aunt and replied coolly, “But even if I recite them, you wouldn’t know if it’s right or wrong—why waste the effort?”

“Is it that you can’t recite them?” his aunt bristled at his slight, annoyed. “Don’t worry, I won’t know, but your uncle will, right?”

“I’ve forgotten most of it…” his uncle replied, somewhat sheepishly. He had studied at the local school for several years in his youth, and had memorized the “Three Hundred, Thousand,” but like the “Three Character Classic,” he only remembered the beginning. The rest was lost to time.

Besides, he didn’t want to embarrass his nephew or brother and so laughed it off, “Why not just recite a few lines, Qiu?”

“But he said he’s memorized the whole thing!” his aunt huffed.

“Just a moment,” Su Lu said, returning to his room to fetch the copybook, turning to the “Hundred Surnames” page, and handing it to his uncle. “Uncle, you can follow along and point out my mistakes.”

“Well now, this boy has some substance,” his uncle remarked, sizing him up with renewed interest. “Let’s see if you’re a horse or a mule.”

P.S. A new week—please vote for recommendations!