After returning from Ganquan Temple, everyone was exhausted. Zhou Shaojin fell asleep as soon as she touched the bed and slept until dawn.
It had been a long time since she’d had such a good sleep!
Zhou Shaojin stretched lazily and lay in bed listening to the birds chirping for a while before getting up.
Today was the ninth day of the fourth month. After the Bathing the Buddha Festival, she had to go to the Jing’an Study for classes.
After paying her respects to Old Madam Guan, Chun Wan carried her writing supplies and attended Zhou Shaojin to the Jing’an Study.
Cheng Jia hadn’t arrived yet.
The Jing’an Study was the same as before. The four-bay open hall was divided by floor screens. In the first room on the east side was the teacher’s large desk, below which were several smaller desks arranged in a staggered pattern, armchairs, a curio shelf, a three-legged gilt incense burner, and on either side of the teacher’s large desk hung a couplet personally written by the Cheng family’s old ancestor Cheng Zhi: “Stand beside hundred-year trees, read ten thousand volumes of books.”
Zhou Shaojin stood still in silence, speechless for a long time.
Chun Wan carefully called out “Second Young Miss.”
Zhou Shaojin came back to her senses and saw a young maid hurrying in. “Second Young Miss, you’re here!” She continued, “Why did you come so early today? The teacher is still having breakfast and will come over later.”
Zhou Shaojin recognized this maid’s face and knew she served Madam Shen, but not having seen her for so long, she couldn’t remember the young maid’s name no matter how hard she tried.
She could only smile and say, “It’s fine. I came early today. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll practice writing for a while.”
The young maid breathed a sigh of relief and helped Zhou Shaojin brew a pot of tea.
Chun Wan set out the writing implements. Zhou Shaojin calmed her mind and practiced her calligraphy.
After writing two large sheets of paper, Cheng Jia arrived.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” She scowled, looking as if she wanted to flip the table.
Only then did Zhou Shaojin remember that in the past, she would wait for Cheng Jia every day at Little Rainbow Bridge on their route to the Jing’an Study.
“I waited for you for nearly a quarter of an hour and you didn’t come.” Cheng Jia’s face was flushed with anger. “If a young maid hadn’t told me you’d come early, I’d still be waiting there like a fool!”
Zhou Shaojin decided not to argue with her and said, “This is my fault. Don’t wait for me anymore in the future. We’ll each come to the Jing’an Study on our own, so we don’t waste time waiting back and forth on the road.”
Cheng Jia was not a slow-witted person. On the contrary, she was quite clever and quick, which was why she had gained the favor of the Cheng family elders.
“What do you mean?” she questioned, though her eyes held more confusion. “Do you mean you want to break off our friendship?”
Breaking off friendship was not quite it—she just didn’t want to be constantly stuck together like before.
But Zhou Shaojin had never been the kind of person who could easily hurt others. She said tactfully, “I have to copy sutras for Old Madam Guo—the ‘Shurangama Sutra,’ a full ten volumes, this thick.” She gestured. “It won’t be finished until whenever I finish copying it all. Where will I have any free time in the future? Today I didn’t wait for you, so I took the time to write two large sheets!”
Cheng Jia looked at the two large sheets on Zhou Shaojin’s desk, deflating like a punctured ball, but her mouth still wouldn’t relent. “You should have told me! What’s the meaning of doing this without a word?”
“I’ll tell you in the future.” Zhou Shaojin said peaceably, deciding to take this opportunity to make things clear with Cheng Jia. “Not only can I not wait for you to go to class together, I also can’t wait to leave class together—Old Madam Guo said that if necessary, I should have the midday meal at her place. I can’t make my elders wait for me, can I?”
“I see!” Cheng Jia looked completely dejected. “Then, can we play together during holidays?”
“Definitely not until the sutras are finished copying.” Zhou Shaojin said. “We’ll talk about what happens after when the sutras are done.”
Cheng Jia was full of energy and rarely had idle time. If she ignored her for half a year, she would probably make other friends, and the two of them would naturally grow distant.
Zhou Shaojin had made up her mind. She pulled out another large sheet and began practicing calligraphy.
Cheng Jia tilted her head and watched from the side, saying with surprise, “Shaojin, I’ve discovered that after just a few days of not seeing you, your writing has gotten so much better!”
“Really?” Zhou Shaojin said perfunctorily.
But she wouldn’t quiet down. “Really! Look at this stroke—in the past you were always timid and would stop halfway through, but now it’s done in one smooth motion. It feels much more fluid.”
Zhou Shaojin’s hand paused. She murmured, “Is that so?”
“Yes, yes!” Cheng Jia said excitedly. “And this dot—it’s also done very decisively. At a glance it looks clean and crisp…” She chattered away with her commentary.
A gentle voice interrupted: “That’s right, Shaojin’s writing has improved considerably.”
The two turned their heads and saw Madam Shen, wearing a dark blue plain Hangzhou silk jacket, her hair graying, standing behind them.
“Teacher Shen!” The two rose together and curtsied.
A gentle smile appeared on Madam Shen’s thin face. “Get up! Let’s look at Shaojin’s writing.”
In her previous life, Zhou Shaojin’s impression of Madam Shen was vague.
She too had originally been a young lady from a family with scholarly traditions, wrote beautiful calligraphy, and at twenty had become a widow before marriage. But when her natal family declined, her husband’s family also began treating her harshly. She simply taught female students in the large households of Jinling, making her living by tutoring.
Though Madam Shen had a good temper and was gentle with people, she had never really constrained them. Once Cheng Sheng had mentioned it, even suspecting that she “believes in Laozi and Zhuangzi or something.”
Zhou Shaojin stood respectfully beside her, listening to Madam Shen critique her writing, and couldn’t help thinking of her brother-in-law’s aunt, Liao Zhangying.
She too was an unfortunate person, of high moral character and great learning, yet she had spent her entire life in the lonely light of a bean oil lamp.
The morning lesson covered “Meng’s Mother Cuts the Weaving” from the “Biographies of Exemplary Women.” Having studied it once before, and thinking about going to Old Madam Guo’s place in the afternoon, Zhou Shaojin inevitably became distracted.
Madam Shen tactfully asked her a few questions. She answered them all correctly, so Madam Shen let her be and didn’t bother her further. This made Cheng Jia somewhat indignant yet helpless. So after class ended, she pulled Zhou Shaojin aside and asked, “Did you have someone teach you privately?”
Zhou Shaojin, afraid she would keep pestering her like this, coaxed her saying, “I studied it once on my own at home.”
Cheng Jia didn’t believe her and said hesitantly, “Wouldn’t that require studying day and night?”
“Yes!” Zhou Shaojin said. “Wasn’t I sick at that time? I couldn’t go out either. So I thought I might as well read through the books a few more times.”
Cheng Jia twisted her handkerchief, hesitating whether to learn from Zhou Shaojin.
Zhou Shaojin quickly said, “I need to hurry back, or I’ll be late for my time at Cold Jade Retreat.” She parted ways with Cheng Jia at Little Rainbow Bridge.