ITIEQ C69

Chapter 69 – Academic Atmosphere

“Teacher, here we are, Qingbei Academy.”

Tan Ping bent slightly as he spoke to the elder at his side.

The old man was hunched, cane in hand, his student having to lean toward him even as he addressed him. White hair like a crane’s feathers, cheeks glowed with a warm flush—he looked every bit the kindly immortal elder from a painting. But anyone who knew him better would disagree.

This was Elder Baoshan, a towering figure of his age. Before coming to teach at Baizhang Academy, he had once been a scribe at the Censorate—bold enough to scold ministers below, and remonstrate emperors above. His words had been as sharp as blades. The late emperor tolerated him only because of his untouchable standing in literature and learning. Years later he retired, ignoring invitations from countless noble houses, teaching only out of old friendship at Baizhang Academy, where his role was less that of a “teacher” and more the Academy’s stabilizing anchor.

And to see him return now—only because his proud disciple had spoken so highly of this Qingbei Academy. Tan Ping had praised it as uniquely innovative, with students of uncommon brilliance who had even bested him in literary argument. That at last piqued Elder Baoshan’s interest; even aged and frail, he had trudged here to see for himself.

After much travel, the old gentleman stepped onto the grounds, his disciple supporting him. And here it was: Qingbei Academy’s main gate, new but built with impressive grandeur. Some of the accompanying students had once toured Qiuchuan in Cangzhou—yet even they were stunned by the fresh, audacious spirit before them.

Elder Baoshan squinted up at the name plaque. “So it’s that deviant breed of the Xiao family, dabbling in literature. Building an academy—how many ridiculous things might be found inside?”

In the capital, he had long called the Third Princess mad and unfit, and memorialized to impeach her repeatedly. And her daughter? Even worse, in his opinion.

And then, by the gate—some bronze statue of a human form, indistinct, holding a scale in one hand and what seemed like a raised thumb in the other. He found it intolerably vulgar. “Who is that supposed to be?”

“It is the Lady of Commandery Pingyun,” his disciple answered.

The group froze, exchanging looks.

Elder Baoshan’s sharp mouth actually stalled. He had not expected…well. This was exactly why he had expected nothing from her.

He sneered. “I’ve heard of funerary effigies, never statues of the living. Foolish child.”

“Academies should be tranquil sanctuaries, yet here it is amid noisy streets, and even beggars by the gate. Disgraceful!”

He stamped his peachwood cane heavily—and sure enough, “the beggar” nearby stirred, scratching his head, rising from his reed mat, blinking at them.

“Uh? You mean me?”

Hair tangled, filthy to the nose—he had not bathed in months. He was close enough to a beggar indeed.

Tan Ping peered closer. Something in him tingled. “Morning Sojourner (Chao Chu‑ke)!?”

“What?” The disheveled man cracked a grin. “At last, someone of discernment. You’re of Qingbei Acad—no, wait, Qingbei? No…Baizhang?”

“Indeed, I am of Baizhang Academy,” Tan Ping admitted.

“Oh.” The man slumped immediately, eyes dull. He flopped back down, turning aside.

Tan Ping knew him well—Chao Chu‑ke, once the darling of the literary world, praised as a prodigy as a youth. He had met him years ago at a poetry banquet. And now? Wandering, rags, a beggar?

Tan Ping wanted to help. But with his Teacher nearby, he could not pry. He only crouched and clapped his shoulder. “Brother, I know not why fate has cast you so low, but even a brief meeting of strangers can be enough—I will aid you if I can.”

Chao Chu‑ke stared back, squinting. “Tan…who? Don’t know you.”

“You can get me into Qingbei, can’t you?”

Tan Ping blinked, then nodded with some pride. “I am acquainted with its Dean. That should pose no trouble.”

Chao bounced up like a carp leaping from water. “Brother! Fine brother!”

Elder Baoshan frowned. He leaned forward, squinting past his fading eyesight…and gasped. Beard unkempt, hair filthy—but the features were unmistakable. Chao Chu‑ke!

He had never liked such vagabond scholars. Talent but no accomplishment. To him, reading the Classics but shunning office was wasted life.

Tan Ping asked, “Brother Chao also seeks Qingbei?”

“Indeed. I hear it is not bad. I would teach, earn my keep, continue roaming.”

Elder Baoshan sneered. “As ever, chasing fads. Baizhang once offered you a place. Now you would settle for such a nameless little school?”

Chao brushed dirt from his sleeves. “Grateful for Baoshan Elder’s regard, but I am too restless. Long in one place, I ruin it. Better for students if I left.”

Tan Ping, at least, respected his frankness. Together they proceeded through the gates.

Inside, Elder Baoshan’s scorn only deepened. The bronze statue of Lady Pingyun still mocked his eyes. He muttered as they passed. Meanwhile Tan Ping whispered with Chao as they walked.

“You truly wish to teach here?”

“Yes. Yesterday I camped outside the wall. Today they must let me through,” Chao replied smugly.

Tan Ping adjusted his sleeves. “Indeed this institution holds men of talent. I myself met its Dean once in Cangzhou, who even invited me to teach here. Perhaps, but for my obligations…”

“Oh? But tell me—did you sit for their teacher’s exam?”

“…Teacher’s exam?”

Chao grinned. “So it is not only me! You know nothing of it either! They require certificates for instructors. If you’ve not passed one, you cannot lecture.”

Tan Ping faltered. “Perhaps the Dean merely spared me that, trusting in my strength.”

“Impossible. To teach without proof—absolutely against their rules. Think: is bookish erudition alone the same as knowing how to instruct?”

Tan Ping murmured, “That…does make sense…” And his respect for Qingbei grew. Could it be, this “teacher’s license” (教资) had become mandatory here, even famous across the land? If so, this Shen Qinghe truly was a man of foresight.

Chao’s pride swelled. But then, when Tan Ping mentioned his own past offer, Chao felt his heart crack a little. He too was respected at court…but he had been rejected at Qingbei’s gate. Unacceptable!

Just then—the great bronze bell above the central tower rang. Its toll shook the air itself. Qingbei students in uniform streamed from every corner, swift fish filling halls and walks, utterly ignoring the newcomers.

Elder Baoshan scowled. “Uncivilized! No one even to greet visitors!”

He jabbed his cane, stopping a distracted youth passing.

This was Du Guangzong, worrying over yesterday’s class simulation. His team had bankrupted three times. He was heart‑sick. To be stopped suddenly—he raised his eyes, saw only an old man, not a teacher, not a prefect…mere outsider. He frowned, curt.

But then, when Tan Ping proclaimed: “We are envoys of Baizhang Academy, here to meet with your Dean.”

Du Guangzong’s eyes widened—Baizhang?! One of the highest institutes in the realm! He stood straighter.

Asked what he studied, he puffed up. “Economics.”

“Economics?” they repeated blankly.

“Yes—ordering states, saving the people!” he declared.

All blinked. Elder Baoshan narrowed his eyes.

“This academy indeed is extraordinary,” Tan Ping murmured admiringly.

Flushed with pride, Du Guangzong straightened. “Why—I learn of commerce, surveys, management reports—though truth be told, every economic theory seems to have opposite theories. Our teachers say: First Law of Economics—every law has an equally valid opposite. Second Law—both are wrong.” ²

The guests were dumbstruck.

Du Guangzong nodded as though profound. For truly, every time class ended, the blond foreign professor would tell them: “If you think you understood — you misunderstood.” ³

The others exchanged baffled glances. Tan Ping was impressed regardless, thinking: This is indeed rigorous study!

But then Chao asked bluntly, “And what of the imperial examinations?”

Du Guangzong shrugged. “Elective only. Freshmen can’t choose it. But we already use ancient strategies — they call it Sea of Past Papers Tactics! We have the 5000 Qingbei Questions, the Three Years to Pass Provincial Exam, the Five Years to Imperial Success, and the compilation of Past Imperial Test Scrolls. Some classmates already cracked them twice.”

Tan Ping froze. Such methods—almost absurd. Yet effective…

“But me? I’ll inherit my family’s business. Teacher says — every trade honorable, follow your heart. Not only officials matter.”

All stilled.

Chao burst into delight. “Excellent! Yes, such an academy is worth coming to!”

Elder Baoshan grimaced further. “Rootless weed, meritless ambition…”

But at that moment the bell tolled again. Students dispersed like wind. A new figure approached the group: You Luo, bowing politely. “Gentlemen from afar — the Dean awaits.”

Moments later, at the guest chamber, the door at last slid open.

“I am late! Forgive me for not greeting you sooner!” Shen Qinghe swept inside, eyes falling at once upon Tan Ping.

“Teacher Tan! Finally, you have come!” He clasped his hands warmly around him. “Since the last parting, I have missed you dearly. This time, you must not refuse!”

Tan Ping flushed, nearly overwhelmed. He had spent ten years at Baizhang. But the warmth here…perhaps it truly was time to move.

“Cough, cough,” came Elder Baoshan, stamping cane.

Shen Qinghe blinked, feigning just noticing the old man. “…And you are?”

“Not important!” Chao Chu‑ke lunged forward. “Dean Shen, I am Chao of Qingzhou, seeking a humble teaching post.”

Shen Qinghe showed no disdain for his appearance. Before he could answer, however—the door was banged open.

“Done—done!!”

All stared. Xiao Yuxi herself entered, hair loose, robes stained, more disheveled than even Chao Chu‑ke.

Elder Baoshan, aghast, forehead veins bulging—recognized her as the Lady Pingyun Commandery Princess. To see her like this…!

Shen Qinghe rubbed his forehead. “Madam Trustee, please, some decorum…”

But she ignored him, waving her hand wildly. “You said my project impossible? Look! Now I demand front cover in the journal Clear Yong! Not an article—a special issue!!”

Shen Qinghe sighed. “Front cover, fine. But sweep the courtyard first.”

Thus had the once‑ornamented Commandery Lady transformed—hairpins gone, bright gowns abandoned—for the frantic mania of a true scholar, desperate only to see her research in print.

This was the great transformation wrought by immersion in research.

Maintaining his smile, Shen Qinghe presented to the rival academy delegation—the full “academic atmosphere” of Qingbei.

Footnotes

1. Shen Qinghe’s pseudo‑romantic “dream” language mimics modern NGO or university fundraising speeches — intentionally over‑dramatic nonsense. 
2. “First Law/Second Law of Economics” here is satirical, poking fun that for every theory there exists an opposite theory, and perhaps both are wrong. 
3. The remark “If you believe you understood, you misunderstood” parodies modern higher‑ed pedagogy, where subjects like economics appear paradoxical and deliberately abstruse.