Purely by Accident – Chapter 25
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Studying!
In the years before I’d set up my bandit stronghold on Mount Yanluo, perhaps because I had yet to develop a fully-realised sense of self, I had indeed spent some time studying. That was all thanks to dear old dad and his hidebound notions of what a young gentleman ought to be doing with his time.
I had begun by attending the local academy. We had breakfasted early on the day I was to start there. At the end of the meal, my father had gazed upon me with sad, anxious eyes, looking for all the world as if he were sending his son not to an educational establishment, but to a demon-haunted hell.
His sad, anxious eyes made me sad and anxious in turn, so I asked hesitantly, ‘Dad, is the academy really such a scary place? Will the teachers whip me? Will they hold my nose against an actual grindstone?’
My father had flung his arms around me, tears welling up in his dim old eyes. ‘Oh, my innocent little child. You’re so small still — what if they bully you over there?’
He was squeezing me so tightly I could hardly breathe, which only reinforced my belief that the academy must be a cruel and terrible place. That was the very first trauma which the notion of ‘studying’ inflicted upon my psyche.
In the end, my father contented himself with sending a whole troop of his household guard to clear me a path to the academy. Having arrived there, they then proceeded to surround the building ‘just in case’. And so, having just had my initial misunderstanding — ‘the academy is hell’ — dispelled, I immediately sank into another morass of self-doubt: ‘Am I the demon?’ All my classmates were staring at me with sad, anxious eyes; even the teacher himself was sad and anxious. He stole a glance at the heavily-armed and -armoured guards, then, trembling visibly, leaned over and asked, ‘Young Master Wei, are you here to, as they say, “lay the smack down” on us?’
That was the cause of my second studying-induced trauma.
I was sad and anxious at the academy, because all my classmates were afraid of me. I was also very lonely, because my classmates’ fear meant that they wanted nothing to do with me.
Fortunately, in all such stories there’s always one character who is generous to a fault. After I’d spent a few lonely days at the academy, this personage finally made his appearance in my very own Tale of the School Bully and the Innocent Classmates. He was an attractive boy with clean-cut features, and each time he smiled, I could see the tip of his canine tooth peeking out just beneath his upper lip. It made him look like an adorable little tiger cub.
He cocked his head, smiling that tiger cub smile, and asked, ‘Wei Zisong, may I please sit next to you?’ The sun was shining into the room, making that clean white tooth gleam with an almost supernatural brightness. My heart thumped queerly in my chest; involuntarily I nodded.
Now that I looked back on it, those were my very earliest stirrings of romance! As it turned out, the very first time your dashing bandit chief had lost her blossoming maiden’s heart had been to a fetching canine tooth.
My days at the academy became much easier after the arrival of Little Tiger. When I fell asleep during lessons, he was there to drape a robe over me; when I stumbled over the recitation of a text I was supposed to have memorised, he was there to prompt me; when I had homework I felt disinclined to do, he was there to finish it for me. Everything — but everything — was absolutely perfect.
Until something happened that made it much less than perfect.
Ever since Little Tiger had come into my life, I no longer found the academy quite so repellent. Every morning, I would rise in a frame of mind cheerful enough for me to bid my father a respectful good morning and farewell before I set off for my lessons — and without needing to be reminded, at that. This pleased my father very much. In fact, so touched was he at the gesture that I often caught him choking back a sob as he ran a hand through his beard. On that fateful day, I happened to leave my father’s manor earlier than usual, so I decided to go round to Little Tiger’s house to ask him to join me on the walk to the academy.
I still remembered that he’d been wearing a deep green changshan that day. He looked quietly elegant as he stood there, a warm, gentle smile on his face; there was already something of the scholar about him. My heart filled with a sort of unthinking delight, and I ran up to him and planted a hearty smack on his cheek.
He stared at me, his eyes wide; beside him, his mother also stared at me, her eyes wide. I felt I had no choice but to follow suit, so I stared back at them with wide eyes.
Since everyone’s expressions had been perfectly synchronised, I’d assumed that all was well. It came as a surprise, therefore, when Little Tiger’s mother practically forced her way into my father’s manor that very evening.
When a middle-aged woman bristling with maternal instinct decides to raise hell in order to protect her young, not even the most hardened of scofflaws can stop her, much less my father’s household guards, who were much more bluster than substance. And so Little Tiger’s mother was able to charge into the inner rooms of the manor unimpeded with her son in tow, screaming blue murder the whole way.
When she burst into the dining room, my father and I were enjoying a convivial family supper. I had just stuffed a piece of water-boiled[1] beef into my mouth, and before I could swallow it, Little Tiger’s mother had pounced on me and grabbed hold of me by the throat. ‘Young Master Wei,’ she pleaded, ‘you’re rich, you’re of noble birth. If you want to play the fashionable game of cut-sleeves, I’m sure many others would be willing to join you. Why must you persist in dragging my son into it?’
She shook me as she spoke. The piece of beef caught in my throat; I could neither spit it out nor swallow it down. Little Tiger was standing silently in a corner, his face ashen. The beef was beginning to taste acrid: it was both hot and spicy and somehow bitter and astringent at the same time. I found myself — both literally and metaphorically — incapable of speech. All I could do was think to myself: But I’m actually a girl.
The effects of this incident was unprecedented both in terms of their severity and their breadth. At the broader level, it meant that everyone in the neighbourhood now knew that the governor’s son was a cut-sleeve. For a good while, all the boys of around my age who had clean-cut features and fetching canine teeth would go out of their way to avoid walking past my father’s manor. At the domestic level, after my father had spent a few days gazing mournfully at me, he decided that I should stop attending the academy. Instead, he engaged teachers to educate me at home, and while he was at it, he also replaced all the servants who waited on me with pretty young maids. And at the personal level, the whole incident inflicted upon me my third studying-related trauma, one that sank itself deep in my psyche and extended itself by association to water-boiled beef and the very term ‘cut-sleeve’ into the bargain.
Later, much later, after I’d lost my heart to the princess, I realised belatedly that Little Tiger’s mother hadn’t been mistaken after all. I really was a cut-sleeve, although not in the way she’d imagined. Of course, all that was another story. The point is, I’d been deeply traumatised by my previous attempts at studying.
Since the incident with Little Tiger’s mother, my studying-induced trauma had become ever more entrenched. I felt sure that I would never be rid of it, not in this lifetime. Every single one of the teachers my father hired I sent packing; without exception, they left either quivering with rage or shaking with fear. The funniest one of all was an elderly tutor — at least threescore and ten if he was a day — who said pathetically to me, his wispy beard trembling, ‘Please, young master, have pity on me. I’ve lived a great many years, and I’m as sure as it’s possible to be that I’m no cut-sleeve.’
How did one expect me not to hate the notion of studying to the very marrow of my bones?
Because of this, when the princess suggested that I should begin my preparations for the imperial examination, which was only a month away, I gave a full-body shudder.
The princess looked puzzled and reached over to feel my forehead. ‘What is it? Why the long face?’
I pulled an even longer face and tugged pitifully at her sleeve. ‘Do I have to study? It’s given me so much trauma.’
I’d forgotten how utterly heartless Chu Feichen could be. She narrowed her eyes at me, then said airily, ‘Traumas are meant to be overcome.’ Poking a finger against my chest, she added, ‘If you don’t study, don’t even think about climbing into bed with me.’
My face fell, and I clicked my tongue in disappointment. Then it occurred to me that what she’d just said was, on its face, redundant. After all, if I didn’t study, I would fail the imperial examination; if I failed the examination, I wouldn’t be able to stop the gossips’ wagging tongues; if I didn’t stop the wagging tongues, I wouldn’t be made prince consort; if I didn’t become prince consort, of course I would never be allowed into the princess’ bed. But the way she’d said it, it had sounded as if…
I stole a glance at the princess. She, too, seemed to have realised that she’d said something untoward. In fact, she was pretending to stare at the clouds just outside the window, a faint flush on her cheeks. A sweet sensation washed over my heart, and I found myself nodding.
I needed to study, so that I could climb into bed with the princess!
As it turned out, the saying ‘beautiful women bring ruin’[2] had some truth to it after all. I regretted my acquiescence the very next day. The princess was taking the matter of my studies very seriously — so seriously that she’d sent Silly Girl to me, nominally as a studying companion, but in reality as a superintendent. Silly Girl, that straitlaced soul, who always did exactly as the princess told her!
When she stepped effortfully into the main courtyard, balancing a pile of books that reached as high as her shoulders, and said with a sinister chuckle, ‘Time to study, Young Master Wei,’ I wanted to expire on the spot.
Quickly I put down the pigeon I was holding and rushed up to her, all gracious hospitality. ‘Silly Girl, have you eaten?’
She gave me an odd look. ‘Her Highness said, no eating any of the food here.’
The corner of my mouth twitched. ‘The weather is so lovely today, why don’t we take a walk through the grounds? The flower garden here really is quite pretty.’
‘Her Highness said, no visiting the flower garden here.’
The corner of my mouth twitched again. ‘In that case, would you like to play with the pigeons? You might not know this, but I’m something of an expert at rearing pigeons.’
‘Her Highness said, no playing with the pigeons here.’
I felt that if the corner of my mouth went on twitching any longer, I was going to lose control of it completely. Taking a deep breath, I asked through clenched teeth, ‘What else did Her Highness say?’
Silly Girl gave me a sly smile and thrust the pile of books into my arms. ‘Her Highness said, make sure Young Master Wei studies hard!’
The books seemed to weigh several thousand tonnes. I wanted to weep.
The next few days were quite simply hell on earth. I was confined to the study all day, with nothing but stacks of books — and Silly Girl — for company. I felt as if I were reliving all my old trauma. Silly Girl gave me a reprimand every time my attention slipped, each of them beginning with ‘Her Highness said—’. One day, goaded beyond endurance, I flung aside the book I was holding and snarled at her. ‘”Her Highness said”, “Her Highness said”, all you know how to do is chant “Her Highness said”. Do you think the princess is a god or something?’
Silly Girl stared at me in stunned silence. Her eyes brimmed with tears, though they did not fall. That, combined with the accusing look on her face, made me feel as if the princess truly were some sort of lofty divinity, while I was an ignorant oaf who had been foolhardy enough to insult her, for which affront I deserved nothing less than to be smitten by celestial lightning over and over again until my soul had been reduced to fragments and scattered to the four winds, with not a single scrap of it remaining.
The vengeful look in Silly Girl’s eyes was far too overpowering. I was cowed even before I’d quite realised it. Hunching my shoulders about my ears, I went back to my books.
After a few more days of this, I decided that it could go on no longer. If Silly Girl and I carried on in this way, at least one of us was going to lose her mind — if we didn’t both descend into madness together. I had to do something.
I was leafing through a copy of the Thirty-Six Stratagems[3] as I pondered this, and had just turned to a page discussing the one called the ‘Honey Trap’.[4] I looked at Silly Girl, then back at the book. A thoughtful frown formed on my face, and a devious scheme took shape in my mind.
The essence of the honey trap lay in the choice of person who was to be the bait. That meant I had an important decision on my hands. I closed my eyes to think the matter over, and Silly Girl promptly gave me a smart rap on the skull. ‘Her Highness said, no slacking!’
Resentfully, I rubbed the sore spot on my head. Then I recalled that Silly Girl had said something before about not liking pretty boys, that she preferred the ruggedly handsome type. But then again, Xiao Hei was rugged enough, yet he seemed to hold no charms for her.
I ran through every single person at the residence in my mind, and decided that, if I was to have any chance of success, I would have to employ an unorthodox tactic. Since neither pretty boys nor ruggedly handsome men seemed to do the trick, I settled on Rahul — Rahul, with his unconventional good looks. I snickered at my own cleverness.
When Rahul walked into the study in response to my summons, I saw Silly Girl’s eyes light up visibly. Rahul, meanwhile, continued to blink those splendid double eyelids of his guilelessly, completely oblivious to the approaching danger.
I recited a silent ‘amitabha‘. Rahul, oh Rahul, I must needs sacrifice you for the greater— well, for my own good. In life you were ever noble; your martyrdom shall be glorious indeed. Truly you are worthy of all the accolades that the world may lavish upon you!
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Footnotes:
- In Chinese, 水煮. A cooking technique originating from the Sichuan province in which meat or fish is cooked in large amounts of chili, sichuan peppercorns and oil. [return to text]
- In the original text, 红颜祸水. This chengyu originates from the fact that, in popular imagination, the fall of imperial dynasties is often associated with the presence of a beautiful empress or imperial concubine, whose beguiling wiles cause the emperor to neglect matters of state and disregard the advice of his ministers. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 三十六计. An essay illustrating the use of various stratagems in warfare and politics, often viewed as an adjunct to The Art of War (孙子兵法), the military treatise dating from the Spring and Autumn period by the strategist Sun Tzu (孙子). Its authorship has been variously attributed to Sun Tzu himself or Zhuge Liang (诸葛亮) of the Three Kingdoms period. However the prevailing view among historians is that the different stratagems originated in different oral and written traditions, with different versions compiled by different scholars at various times across Chinese history. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 美人计, literally ‘beautiful person scheme’. The thirty-first of the thirty-six stratagems, this involves sending attractive people (usually women) into the enemy’s camp in order to sow discord. [return to text]
douqi 随笔 