Chapter Eight: The Bewildering Choice

The peach blossoms in the courtyard had bloomed again, and the ground was already covered with a layer of fallen petals. From the neighboring Zhang residence came a lingering melody from a zither, like dewdrops falling on leaves, or yellow birds returning to their nests. This drew a cuckoo perched on the eaves of the road to join in the song.

The surroundings were unmistakably a scene of late spring; the green leaves overhead swayed gently in the breeze, and the pond in the yard had risen to the edge, so standing nearby would wet one’s trousers. Zhang Ximiao had hurried back to Luoyang today, having stayed too long at the estate in Yanshi.

“Have you finished all the chores at Dongwu?” When Zhang Ximiao came to visit, Fei Xiu was drying clothes in the sunlight. She put down her work and sighed, “Ever since Sixth Brother lost his mind, the household expenses have been all over the place. In the end, the affairs of the estate were all handed over to you. Second and Seventh Brothers have their duties in the court, and I can’t help much. You’ve worked hard.”

She glanced at Ximiao’s worn but resolute face and continued, “They say common folk are difficult to manage, and tenant farmers are cunning. How have you fared dealing with them over there? Have you suffered any mistreatment?”

Though the Anle Duke’s household was a noble family entitled to tax revenues directly from Anle County, contemporaries knew that to sustain the family legacy, one could not simply live off past wealth. Thus, since the old Anle Duke Liu Chan moved to Luoyang, the family had been acquiring fields and estates around Yanshi, known as Dongwu. Over the years, the Anle Duke’s household now owned twenty hectares south of Yanshi city, with ten tenant farmer families. While not a great fortune, it was a modest estate.

However, last year’s consecutive natural disasters led to poor harvests in Dongwu. Coupled with Liu Xun’s reckless extravagance, the household’s finances began to tighten unusually. Therefore, Ximiao had to pay close attention to Dongwu frequently. At the start of the year, she went to Yanshi to supervise the tenant farmers’ rice transplanting and pest control, organized the women to rear silkworms and soak hemp, and purchased quality pomegranate and grape seeds to plant a trial patch. If successful and well-received, she planned to expand cultivation the next year.

The tenant farmers appreciated her efforts, especially since Ximiao managed affairs with clarity between public and private matters and helped servants where she could. Whenever Liu Xun lost his temper, they would comfort each other, saying, “The master’s temperament has changed, but the lady remains as good as ever.”

When Fei Xiu asked about Dongwu, Zhang Ximiao only smiled and said, “No such thing. The common folk just want enough to eat and wear. As long as they’re fed and clothed, how bad can things get?”

Speaking of which, she cast a glance toward the east wing where her husband stayed and sighed, “As for him, he spends every day with women, venting his anger on Laifu and others through beatings and scoldings. If things continue like this, how can he face our ancestors, or his eldest and fifth brothers in the future…”

“Ximiao!” Seeing the sister-in-law bring up a topic they could not delve into, Fei Xiu quickly interrupted, “Don’t say that! You know he’s become this way because of that very thought!”

The two women fell silent, exchanging glances. Fei Xiu then forced a bitter smile, led Ximiao inside, brewed a cup of tea, and comforted her: “Men are all competitive and proud, caring only about winning or losing. Winning is one extreme; losing is another. But living in this world, patience and restraint are most important. Ximiao, he cannot endure, but you must endure—for the sake of the child. Only then will he have a good example to follow and grow well.”

Ximiao had endured too much already. When Fei Xiu spoke, she knew what was coming. She wanted to argue but knew it was futile and did not want to continue the topic. When Liu Xian was mentioned, her heart softened. She asked, “What about Bi Ji? I haven’t seen him.”

“Bi Ji? He went fishing with A Tian and the young servants by the Yang Canal.”

“Is he well? Has he grown taller? Do his clothes still fit?”

Fei Xiu looked at Ximiao’s caring eyes and recalled Liu Xian’s recent behavior. “Bi Ji is fine, eats well, sleeps well, but lately he’s been picky—he refuses to eat yam no matter what.”

Upon hearing this, a smile immediately blossomed on Zhang Ximiao’s face, maternal affection radiating openly like the clustered peach blossoms in the courtyard. This glow stirred both envy and jealousy in Fei Xiu. She had once had children but now could only be a happy onlooker, which inevitably brought some loneliness.

Yet happiness is like a mischievous child; it runs away at the slightest misfortune. Having been through it herself, Fei Xiu keenly understood this. Although a bystander, she sensed some troubling signs.

“Ximiao,” she chose her words carefully and spoke slowly, “I think Bi Ji has changed.”

Though the words were vague, Zhang Ximiao did not take them lightly and sat upright, waiting for more.

“In the past six months, Bi Ji still plays and laughs daily, but it’s obvious he spends more and more time alone and has become increasingly quiet, as if lost in thought. He can sit under a tree for an hour or two without speaking. When asked, he stays silent. He hardly seems like a child.”

Ximiao pondered for a moment and nodded with worry. “Is it because of his father?”

“No.” Fei Xiu shook her head gently. “Maybe partly, but not entirely. In these two months, Bi Ji hasn’t just been spacing out; he often does strange things.”

“Strange?”

Fei Xiu began listing examples: She frequently saw Bi Ji rummaging through boxes at home as if searching for something but never finding it; when chatting with Laifu and others, Bi Ji would suddenly appear silently beside them; most oddly, one night while walking, she saw Bi Ji sneak into the ancestral hall and stay there a long time. When she checked, nothing in the hall was missing.

After hearing this, Zhang Ximiao fell silent, truly puzzled by Liu Xian’s behavior. As a mother, children are always immature and naive, needing protection. Their actions seem instinctive restlessness or impulsive ignorance, not warranting too much concern. Only when a child clearly expresses opinions or resistance does a mother belatedly realize the child has their own thoughts—though this realization is often forgotten again.

But now, Ximiao could not ignore the issue. For Bi Ji’s better growth, she needed to come up with measures.

Fei Xiu offered a good suggestion: “Bi Ji is already six. You should discuss with Second Brother about getting a teacher to start his education.”

A teacher? Zhang Ximiao was momentarily stunned but then agreed. Regardless of Liu Xian’s odd conduct, a good environment was crucial for a child. The story of Mencius’s mother moving three times to be near a school, enabling him to learn propriety, came to mind. Leaving Liu Xian at the Anle Duke’s household, exposed to Liu Xun’s misdeeds, was hardly suitable.

Yet Ximiao felt torn and reluctant.

To a mother, a child is part of herself. Though long ago she imagined her child leaving to live independently and sincerely blessed it in her heart, now that the time for schooling had come, she felt fear. The child’s wisdom grows daily and soon becomes an independent being. In the harsh reality, he would begin to judge his parents and the family he was born into—would resentment arise?

After parting with Fei Xiu, Zhang Ximiao gazed at bamboo shoots in the corridor and thought: A child is like a bamboo shoot—seemingly fragile but actually growing strong. Each time you see him, he is vastly different from before. Before you notice, he has become remarkable. Wasn’t it her hope for Bi Ji to become a man who stands tall and proud? At times, people are fragile, but at other times, they are capable of anything. She believed her child could be the latter.

Having made up her mind, Zhang Ximiao went directly to knock on Liu Yao’s door.

“Why have you come, sister-in-law?” Liu Yao was surprised to see her. As the eldest brother in the family, though on good terms with Liu Xun, he seldom communicated privately with Ximiao and could not guess her purpose at first. Still, he welcomed her in and instructed his wife Wang Zhi to pour some honeyed water.

Second sister-in-law Wang Zhi snorted without replying, making Liu Yao a bit embarrassed. Ximiao understood why: The Anle Duke title originally belonged to Second Brother Liu Yao, but the old Duke favored her husband and passed it to Liu Xun against convention. Though Liu Yao never mentioned it, Wang Zhi resented the matter deeply.

So Ximiao pretended nothing had happened and quietly took her seat. “Is Second Brother busy now?”

“I’m just a literary clerk, copying documents and compiling records. What could be busy?” Liu Yao smiled. “If you have something to say, don’t hesitate.”

“It’s nothing else. Bi Ji is six now and should start learning to write and read. I wanted to ask Second Brother for advice on arrangements.”

“Oh.” Liu Yao suddenly understood. He glanced toward the east wing and saw Ximiao’s dilemma: She could not discuss this with Liu Xun and thus had to seek his help.

“You came just in time. This year, His Majesty established the Imperial Academy on the left side of the Grand Academy to educate children of officials ranked fifth pin and above in the capital. I know the academy’s scholar, Cao Zhi Cao Yungong. He is upright, diligent, and well-learned. I will visit him tomorrow and arrange for Bi Ji to attend in a few days. How does that sound?”

To Liu Yao, this was an excellent choice. The Imperial Academy had teachers personally selected by the emperor, and classmates came from prominent families, either ministers’ children or imperial relatives. If Liu Xian could make friends there, his future career would surely be smoother.

But Zhang Ximiao was not satisfied. She shook her head slightly, lowering her eyes with deference, “Going to the Imperial Academy is good, but Bi Ji is still too young to understand social dynamics. Our family has no connections and is under the emperor’s suspicion. I fear if he goes there, he will be excluded by others. If his childish temper flares and he conflicts with a prince, it would be disastrous.”

Liu Yao was taken aback and instinctively tapped the table. He hadn’t considered that, and was impressed by Ximiao’s insight as a woman. He asked, “Then what is your idea, sister-in-law?”

“I think…” Zhang Ximiao pondered, arranging her thoughts carefully. “The Imperial Academy can wait a few years. For now, I want to find a distinguished teacher for Bi Ji—someone who can teach him not only reading and poetry but also how to conduct himself. That would be ideal.”

She then named a candidate. “I heard the famous scholar Wang Yifu is extraordinarily talented and insightful, a rising leader in the literary world. Though from a noble family, he is generous and helps those in need. Though wealthy, he lives in a small garden on the west side of the city, making a living by lecturing and critiquing. Wouldn’t he make a good teacher?”

Upon hearing Wang Yan’s name, Liu Yao laughed quietly. He waved his hand, “Wang Yan is certainly learned, but he comes from the Langya Wang clan and is proud. Although he maintains many good relations, they are all from prominent families. He is deeply influenced by the ‘Zhengshi metaphysics’ and often talks abstrusely about Buddhism and Daoism. Even if he agreed, I doubt you would be satisfied.”

Ximiao was somewhat disappointed but agreed with Liu Yao. They had been raised with the principle to “respect the worthy and disdain the base.” They disliked metaphysical talk, considering it the frivolous complaints of idle aristocrats.

She thought a moment longer and proposed another candidate: “What about Zuo Si, Zuo Taichong? I heard he comes from a family of Confucian scholars but was poor in childhood. He loves learning and works diligently on his writings. Each piece amazes everyone with its elegance. He also studies the Han and Shiji histories, so he is practical and would be an excellent choice.”

Unexpectedly, Liu Yao refused again.

This time, his reason was simple. Leaning forward, he whispered, “Three days ago, Zuo Taichong submitted a memorial to the emperor, claiming he would spend ten years writing an unparalleled poem about the three capitals. Afraid his preparations were insufficient, he asked to be appointed as a secretary to study at the Lantai Library. The emperor, thinking it an important literary event, agreed.”

With two candidates rejected, Ximiao was at a loss, feeling conflicted and saddened. Simply finding a suitable teacher for her child—such a simple matter—was proving impossible.

In truth, it was easy enough to find some knowledgeable old scholar, but Ximiao was unwilling to concede. She cast a pleading look at Liu Yao, hoping he could suggest someone good.

Liu Yao understood her wishes. He had no sons, only daughters, so Liu Xian was like his own child to care for. But good teachers don’t fall from the sky, and he didn’t know where to find one immediately.

Under Ximiao’s gaze, Liu Yao stroked his chin thoughtfully: If he only considered famous scholars in Luoyang, few suitable options remained. What about recluses? Or those retired or in mourning? If he broadened the search to places like Kongtong, Longmen, Song Mountain, Mang Mountain…

Wait, Mang Mountain?

Suddenly, a tall, thin figure sprang into Liu Yao’s mind—a familiar pale face, wearing an ordinary smile that stirred both nostalgia and regret.

“Perhaps I could inquire with him…” Liu Yao muttered to himself.

Ximiao looked puzzled, waiting uncertainly for her brother-in-law’s next words.

“There is a suitable candidate, but I’m unsure if he would agree. We must consider avoiding conflicts of interest…” Liu Yao tapped the table again, sighed, and smiled bitterly. “Tomorrow, I’ll take Bi Ji to meet him. I hope he won’t refuse.”

Curiosity growing, Zhang Ximiao asked, “Who do you mean, Second Brother?”

“The former Grand General’s secretary, Chen Shou.”