ITIEQ C4

by berry

Chapter 4 – Qingbei F4

The group of young men exchanged glances and, with lingering hesitation, followed him.

They were not entirely convinced by this obscure “Qingbei Academy.” Yet, having failed the civil service examinations again and again, they had come to a dead end. This young master, though plainly youthful, radiated an uncommon bearing. Compared to pushing and shoving, begging at noble manor gates to hand over essays, perhaps it was better to see if another chance might be found here.

Upon stepping into the inner courtyard, however, their doubts met with a sudden turn toward delight. The grounds were neatly arranged; water was drawn into a pond where several koi swam, and verdant grass lay about within. Willow trees and garden blossoms framed the steps. At last, some true air of scholarly repose could be sensed here.

Among the seven, one was already somewhat advanced in age, craning his neck nervously as he trailed behind, staring at his shabby clothing and worn shoes, not daring to glance around. Never in his life had he stepped into such a courtyard, and a deep sense of inferiority welled within, as if confirming the gulf of heaven and earth. Another youth, however, strode chest forward and head held high, his eyes bright as he measured every corner, eager to take it all in.

Only Shen Qinghe strolled with languor, thinking ahead—come summer, a pond and lush grass would only breed mosquitoes. Perhaps it would be better to flatten the artisans’ carefully carved miniature landscapes into an open yard, so students could run and exercise—well-rounded development in morality, intellect, physique, aesthetics, and labor¹, after all.

At last they reached the classroom. The instant the door swung open, all seven widened their eyes in shock.

In the Great Yong Dynasty, commoners revered the custom of sitting cross-legged upon the ground, while scholars of noble houses devised a few raised mats and low tables, upon which to lean as they conversed gracefully—a fashion that attracted countless students to mimic it. Yet here, before their eyes, sat rows upon rows of the strangest furnishings they had ever seen: tall tables and high-backed chairs arranged in precise order, each nearly half the height of a man. Ne’er had they so much as heard of such contraptions in any household! Stranger still—at the front of the room, a large low cabinet stood before the teacher’s place. None could guess its use.

Still, among these seven, few had truly attended a formal academy, so they assumed these were merely the implements of noble houses. No one dared to ask, lest he reveal his ignorance. In truth, even the sons of aristocrats would never have seen such things.

“Sit wherever you like,” Shen Qinghe said, surveying these desks and chairs with satisfaction. That Nan Hong had drawn his crude sketches, yet artisans had reproduced them so faithfully—this was achievement enough.

“Oh, and everyone sit near the front. No taking the back seats.” Casting a glance across them, he added the command casually.

They perched awkwardly upon the tall chairs. Shen Qinghe stood at what looked like a giant-sized shoe cabinet—the newly fashioned teacher’s lectern. He twirled in his fingers a stick of chalk made from ground white lime. The blackboard, sprayed with ink and crude in construction, would have to suffice. With practiced ease, he scrawled a few large characters—

“贵无论”²(Esteem Nothingness)

“Placement test,” he announced easily. “Take these words as your prompt and compose an argumentative essay. Time limit, two ke³. Our faculty is limited; those whose work is acceptable will stay.” Tossing the chalk aside, he leaned back lazily into his rocking chair.

Someone asked, “And what counts as acceptable?”

Shen Qinghe flicked open his folding fan. “Simple. If it pleases me, you pass.”

A few faces twisted with disbelief. “And if none please you?”

Shen Qinghe hid a sly grin behind his fan. “Then you must seek your fortunes elsewhere.”

Anger stirred, but the essay subject was not difficult. The phrase “贵无论” was a chief tenet of the Yue School’s doctrine of Pure Discourse; its original saying was: “All things under Heaven are born from nothingness.”

The Great Yong dynasty revered this school of “pure learning.” Many devoted themselves to abstruse investigations of its principles. For those who had read books for some years, wielding a brush to compose a piece was certainly within reach.

Two ke of time soon passed. Lüsong gathered the rolls and presented them to his young master.

The seven papers still glistened with wet ink. Though the phraseology and styles of writing differed much from the era Shen Qinghe had known, he rapidly sifted through and selected three.

Those three brightened in delight when picked—only for him to announce: “These three are unacceptable. Please return home.”

Stunned, all three flared in fury, leaping up.

“Intolerable!”

“We may be common-born, yet we have our pride. If the young master seeks only to trifle with us, do not think us easy prey for humiliation!”

Had a true scholar of towering repute criticized them, they would have been willing to submit their work. But to be scorned by this obscure upstart before their very noses—if word spread, what place would be left for their dignity?

Shen Qinghe rubbed his nose. He truly had not meant to insult them.

The standoff threatened to grow heated—when Nan Hong stepped forward with deft timing. From his sleeve he produced three golden leaves⁴. Instantly the three, who moments earlier bristled in outrage, fell silent. Their eyes toward Shen Qinghe shifted.

So casually could he hand out solid gold to dismiss them? What sort of wealth was this!

Shen Qinghe waved a hand. “Go, go. But hear me—should I catch wind of any rumors that blacken the Academy’s name…” With the end of his fan, he traced a line across his neck.

The three hurriedly declared their understanding, clutching the gold before hastening away. Yet inwardly they scoffed: How long could such a flimsy establishment survive? Even a house of gold, under leadership of such a frivolous noble, would prove worthless.

The system, curious, scanned the contents of those essays. They might not be breathtaking, but each was meaningful and substantial. It reminded him gently: “Among poor sons of this age, they are already beyond the ordinary.”

“You are wrong again, system,” Shen Qinghe chuckled. “What is the very first step in solving a question?”

“… Understanding the intent of the examiner,” it admitted.

“Exactly.” Shen Qinghe applauded inwardly. “If I set ‘贵无论’ as the topic, am I looking for florid praise of the doctrine? In teaching students, I need companions whose research aligns with mine. Should I herd in a group of wild stallions instead? I have never had a hobby of breaking horses, nor the wide benevolence of Confucius. Their essays were not poor—merely not suited to me.”

Indeed, “贵无论” was a core of the Yue School, and its originator had been none other than the Yue family patriarch. But over generations, followers mouthed lofty words of nothingness and tranquility, while in reality plotting factional strife and partisan purges. This was precisely what Emperor Zhaohuan regarded as a thorn in the eye. If Shen Qinghe wished to preserve his own head, to live as a carefree scion, he must align with imperial will.

Those who remained were all still quite young—and, to Shen Qinghe’s surprise, each a bright-looking youth.

They made respectful bows, and the eldest named himself Shan Bowen. In the essay he had both praised and critiqued “贵无论,” his tone balanced; his bearing was steady and composed. Shen Qinghe nodded—this one would serve as senior disciple.

The second, Xu Lesheng, dressed in loose wide sleeves, the most finely garbed among them. He smiled and coaxed: “Young master, might I too be dismissed with a leaf of gold?” Shen Qinghe only laughed and refused.

The third, aloof as a solitary blossom upon a frosty peak, his prose ice-cold and lofty—he introduced himself curtly as Gao Rong.

The youngest, a boy-face, was You Luo. He claimed the pamphlet alone had lured him here. Shen Qinghe liked his essay best—sharp-tongued and merciless, dismissing “贵无论” as nothing more than “frogs croaking, cicadas shrieking, noise and nothing more.” This made him laugh aloud. “You see, system? This is the kind of unconventional talent I seek.”

After learning their names, Shen Qinghe clapped. “Nan Hong, distribute the admission letters.”

Four gilded letters and contracts were presented to the four. Shen Qinghe cleared his throat: “My surname is Shen. Hereafter call me Teacher Shen. Congratulations—you are the inaugural class of Qingbei Academy. A few rules I must explain.”

“First—you passed the written test under my direct recommendation, a special quota, so you could call it a lowered score admission. Your enrollment is bound here for five years—you may not transfer out. Violation will incur a heavy penalty, as detailed in the contract.”

“Second—our aim is not the usual path; our goal is central selection⁵ into government posts. Thus our curriculum differs from other academies. The teaching plan must be fully followed, with no dissent. At present I alone serve as instructor. Across the hall lies the library and self-study room. Our Academy values independent study. Scholarships are available—difficulties at home may apply, though results depend on grades.”

“Third—our internal materials may not be leaked. Any misconduct—plagiarism, forgery, academic dishonesty—will be punished, kept on record, and will harm chance of office… I mean, the examinations. Each student will receive a handbook—read it well. The Academy is now in process of qualification application. My goal is double-first-class⁶ in three years, and top ranking in five. I hope you will strive for achievement and elevate our school together.”

With a smile he said, “That is all. Sign.”

The unheard-of terminology left the four dazed, staring blankly at admission letters and contracts.

Was this the bearing of a true higher academy?

The boy-faced You Luo pressed his handprint first. Grinning wide: “All say I am wild and unorthodox. To have the teacher’s recognition—I shall surely repay!”

Next was Xu Lesheng, who signed with ease. “I reckon following you will bring a promising future.” Stretching his hand for a gold leaf, he quipped, looking indeed as though wealth lay ahead.

Only after a pause did Shan Bowen and Gao Rong solemnly sign. For them, with ambitions but no better choice, only here could hope be pinned.

Nan Hong gathered the contracts. Thus Qingbei Academy was formally born. Shen Qinghe stretched his limbs, yawning. He had stayed up nights researching the political layout of Great Yong and drafting lesson plans. Without rest, he feared sudden death!

Before leaving he gave homework: “Library is open to you now. No eating inside. Borrowing requires a library card, and all books must be returned. I’ll devise regulations later… Class begins the day after tomorrow, at the hour of Chen⁷. No tardiness.”

The system asked curiously, “Why the day after tomorrow?”

“Because tomorrow is my day off~” Shen Qinghe replied.

“…” said the system. “You almost frightened me just now with how serious you sounded.”

“Hah, if you think that was serious, my old self would have terrified you to death.”

With master and attendants gone, the four students were left bewildered.

Xu Lesheng suggested eagerly: “Just across is the library—shall we see?”

Books, after all, were the very source of one’s rise; the greater the clan, the more dearly they guarded them. Yet this young master shared them openly—surely they could not be rare secrets. Still, this entire Academy reeked of unreliability; they prayed those tomes might yet prove of use.

Sunlight streamed straight within, setting a faint golden rim upon their figures. Shan Bowen, leading, raised a hand to shade his eyes. Passing the pond and cloisters, the three bold characters of Library came into view.

“That young lord is already most generous to share his family’s texts,” Shan Bowen warned solemnly at the door. “Whatever we find, we must not be ungrateful.”

He meant to temper expectations; even if the works were ordinary, gratitude should prevail.

“Of course. I am no petty villain,” You Luo replied, and charged forward. With a creak, the door swung open.

Footnotes

“德智体美劳” (Morality, intellect, physique, aesthetics, labor): A modern educational slogan in China for well-rounded development of students. The protagonist, out of place in time, is parodying it here.
“贵无论” (Gui Wu Lun): Literally “Esteem Nothingness.” A tenet of the Yue School’s metaphysical philosophy, akin to Neo-Daoist “Qingtan” (Pure Discourse).
Two ke (二刻): A unit of traditional Chinese time. One ke ≈ 15 minutes, so two equal about half an hour.
Golden leaves: Small, thin pieces of gold, easy to carry and use as currency or reward.
Central Selection: Refers to a modern Chinese bureaucratic recruitment program for top civil servants (选调生). The protagonist is transplanting future jargon into ancient context.
“Double first-class” (双一流): A modern PRC educational term for elite universities. Its comedic appearance here in an ancient academy highlights the main character’s anachronistic tone.
Hour of Chen (辰时): Traditional Chinese time unit, roughly 7–9 a.m.