TSLSILMH Ch 36

Chapter 36

Last night, the Young Lord had waited for him to awaken, and so by now had scarcely slept at all.

Watching him sleep so soundly, how could Xie Shu bear to disturb him?

He quietly smoothed the bedding and seated himself by his side, gazing silently at the Young Lord.

Then he noticed that Yu Chuxi’s feet were sticking out from the quilt.

Over the past two days, he had begun to notice certain harmless sleep habits of his Young Lord. A faint smile touched his lips as he gently tugged at the quilt to cover him properly.

But Yu Chuxi, fast asleep, hugged the blanket tightly. Feeling someone tugging at his warm cocoon, he kicked out, hoping to chase the intruder away.

By chance, his bare foot pressed directly into Xie Shu’s palm.

Xie Shu’s motion paused. He held that soft, pale foot for the briefest moment before finally letting go.

When Yu Chuxi awoke after a long, deep sleep, his head was still groggy but his spirits bright.

The room was still dim, sealed off from sunlight by tightly drawn curtains. Yet pale light from outside revealed it was already daytime.

Yu Chuxi rolled lazily in his quilt, then spotted the figure at the window—Xie Shu in a plain silk-white robe, seated by a chair, holding an open scroll.

The contour of his face was delicate, like fine brushwork, his gaze lowered in concentration.

Yu Chuxi lost himself watching for a moment before speaking: “Xie Shu, what time is it? Why didn’t you wake me?”

Only just roused, his tone carried a trace of languid softness.

Xie Shu closed the book and turned, sunlight falling like ink wash across his brow and eyes, his voice calm: “It is now the third quarter of the hour of the dragon. I already informed Feng He and the others. Young Lord need not worry.”

Meeting his gaze, Yu Chuxi’s heart gave a sudden thump.

Something in Xie Shu’s manner toward him seemed different now, though he could not say exactly what.

Meanwhile, news had spread rapidly across the city—Grand Scholar Jiang Hong, once Chancellor of the Imperial Academy, had retired from the capital and now arrived in Jinling.

This news could hardly be hidden. Jiang Hong had long carried a sterling reputation, and on his journey through countless towns, his travel passes alone revealed his identity. Soon every noble household in Jinling knew—and burned with envy.

If their sons could study under such a teacher, their path in the examinations would surely be secure.

Everyone also remembered this: the Emperor’s most trusted minister, Lü Shuo, a high-ranking official in the Bureau of Astrology, was famously once Jiang Hong’s disciple.

The key question was this—though Jiang Hong had left Yangzhou days ago, no word of him had reached the capital. Not until several unassuming carriages creaked through Jinling’s city gates, laden with heavy boxes.

When the guards inspected, they found the carriages packed not with noble luxuries but tomes and scrolls.

The sight left them gaping. These were not bamboo slips, but paper-bound volumes, rare and precious. Since the rise of the imperial examination system, paper’s price had soared. A good manuscript was worth fortunes. “Easier to find a mountain of gold than a single perfect book,” so the saying went.

For a moment, greedy desire flickered in the soldiers’ eyes—but a guard swiftly flashed a pass.

One glance was enough to make them blanch. This was none other than Master Jiang, whose arrival the Prefect had strictly ordered must not be slighted.

By that afternoon, all of Jiang Hong’s belongings had been settled securely in his new residence, with the aid of local officials.

The following day, Prefect Wan Linming paid a visit.

Bearing gifts prepared in advance, adjusting his robes with care, he boarded his carriage.

Noticing the solemn preparation, Li Ming asked carefully: “My lord, I have long heard of Master Jiang—respected and celebrated. But word from the capital says his retirement hides deeper causes. Even if he remained in office, his post was equal to yours. Why such deference?”

Wan Linming waved his words aside. “Li Ming, though sharp you remain yet untried. A scholar such as Jiang Hong, even without the Emperor’s favor, still cannot be ignored. Revering teachers, honoring virtue—that is the way to govern. Treating him with respect is not just courtesy, it is good statecraft. And besides, I have questions only he can answer…”

His expression turned pensive. Li Ming bowed, impressed, praising his lord’s foresight. Then, remembering: “My lord, didn’t you also wish to recommend Xie Shu to him…?”

At that, Wan Linming only nodded.

Arriving at Jiang Hong’s gate, the attendants ushered them inside. Before long, the Prefect beheld Jiang Hong in person—hair white, yet spirit lively, bearing an air of assured gravity.

Their greetings revealed him surprisingly warm and unpretentious, not the stiff pedant scholars were often thought to be.

Seizing the chance, Wan Linming said: “Master Jiang, forgive my boldness. I am troubled by something. Might I ask your counsel?”

Jiang Hong regarded him calmly: “Speak, my lord.”

“The news I hear,” Wan Linming said gravely, “is that His Majesty plans a southern tour. This is unprecedented. I do not know what to make of it. Might you enlighten me?”

Jiang Hong sighed inwardly. Of course—it would be about the southern tour. He, among others, had opposed it. The treasury grew thin, the people weary, and the northern tribes still loomed threatening. Such a journey might spark trouble. They had thought His Majesty abandoned the idea.

Yet soon after, he raised it again in court. This time his trusted minister Lü Shuo seized the chance, extolling its benefits: visiting fertile provinces, inspecting waterways, soothing public opinion. His arguments struck true.

Being close to the Emperor, with plans already laid, Lü Shuo swayed the court, leaving dissenters speechless.

They realized then: it was decided. Add to that, the sudden southern trip made months ago by the Third Prince, Zhao Zhen—and all became clear.

Some whispered resentment. Was His Majesty growing stubborn in old age? Or was it that Lü Shuo, greedy for power and favor, stopped at nothing?

Jiang Hong’s own heart sank. Lü Shuo, his very first disciple—once taken in for his bright mind and pitiful origins—was indeed gifted, but warped in nature.

Returning to his thoughts, Jiang Hong answered: “The matter is now in the hands of the Imperial Household. Soon officials will come to make arrangements. My advice—focus your prefecture on order and prosperity. His Majesty most delights in harmony.”

Wan Linming immediately grasped the meaning. Relief and delight crossed his face. He gave thanks—and then, just before departing, raised another matter: “Might you yet take disciples? There is one I esteem highly, hoping he may earn your favor. His name is Xie Shu.”

Of late, countless noble families had showered him with petitions, all declined. This, even from the Prefect, was almost expected.

But to his surprise, Jiang Hong smiled suddenly. “Ah? That is a coincidence indeed.”

Meanwhile, Xie Shu himself had pieced the rumors together. Coupling them with his earlier suspicions, he realized it—the elder gentleman was indeed Jiang Hong, former Chancellor of the Imperial Academy.

No wonder his insight was profound.

Yet Xie Shu remained calm. Fame mattered little—his teacher’s character was free and unrestrained. Such men did not reveal themselves lightly.

Since the master had already promised to teach him, he would dwell on it no further.

So, on that very day, Xie Shu prepared to visit his teacher’s new residence.

Yu Chuxi brought forth a finely crafted lacquer box, presenting it to him.

Not knowing what it was, yet instinctively accepting, Xie Shu received it with gentle thanks.

Yu Chuxi’s lips curved, eyes shimmering like water. “You go to visit your teacher, yet have you prepared no 束脩? Jiang Hong will not care for silver or gold. But this—he will appreciate.”

At his words, Xie Shu’s gaze flickered briefly across the ornate box—but soon fixed firmly upon the Young Lord’s face.

He of course knew the meaning of 束脩—originally, strips of dried meat taken as tribute when students first visited their teachers, later referring generally to the first ceremonial gift from pupil to master. Too light or too heavy, and both were improper—thus choosing it was delicate.

But the Young Lord had already thought of it for him.

Footnotes

1. 辰時 (Hour of the Dragon) – In traditional Chinese timekeeping, each day was split into 12 double-hours. The hour of the dragon corresponds to roughly 7–9 AM. 辰時三刻 means approximately 8:45 AM. 
2. 國子監祭酒 (Chancellor of the Imperial Academy) – The leading position in the highest academic institution of imperial China. Equivalent to a university president, but carrying official 4th-rank standing. A position of great prestige and scholarly authority. 
3. 南巡 (Southern Tour) – Refers to emperors leaving the capital to inspect southern provinces. Historically this carried vast political importance—seen as a means to display imperial power, check governance, and bond with the populace, while often at immense expense. 
4. 束脩 (Shuxiu) – Literally “a bundle of dried meat.” In Confucian tradition, it became the symbolic first gift presented when a student formally took a teacher. Later expanded to mean any respectful initiation gift to a master.