Chapter 20: Herding Cattle in the Ming Dynasty

As the saying goes, extreme joy turns to sorrow; I believe this to be true.

An unpleasant incident occurred during dinner. Halfway through the meal, my eldest aunt shared some news.

"Father, Mother, it's like this. Jun'er's maternal grandparents think he is bright and clever, so they've decided to help cover his tuition. They don't want to delay his progress and want to support his schooling."

Hearing this, Zhu Pingan instinctively felt something was off. He had rarely heard of a maternal family being willing to help fund their married daughter's child's education. The ancients said a married daughter is like spilled water; was my eldest aunt's family truly that progressive? Even if Jun'er's grandmother was willing, would his uncle and aunt be willing too?

In ancient times, schooling didn't charge tuition in the modern sense, but it required *shuxiu*—gifts presented to the teacher by students to show respect, which essentially functioned as tuition. This custom had been in practice since the time of Confucius; back then, it was salted pork, but nowadays, *shuxiu* was paid in money.

In the countryside, *shuxiu* was much cheaper than in the towns, but it still amounted to roughly one string of cash per year—about a thousand wen—paid in two installments, along with seasonal gifts like vegetables, eggs, and meat. It could be said that the expenses were quite significant.

However, it was said that my eldest aunt's family was quite well-off, so perhaps it wasn't an issue.

Upon hearing that the maternal family was willing to pay for Jun'er's education, the grandparents were delighted. They placed great importance on the eldest son's family; if the eldest son was scholarly, then Jun'er would surely excel in his studies as well.

Since the grandparents were pleased, and since the money was coming from the eldest aunt's in-laws, my mother, Lady Chen, as well as the fourth and third aunts, naturally had nothing to say.

"Since Jun'er is going to the elementary school, Zhi'er isn't small anymore; he can take over Jun'er's job of herding the cows," my eldest aunt said. Seeing that no one in the family objected, her face beamed with pride. Then, she shifted her tone toward Zhu Pingan. "Autumn is approaching. We should fatten the cattle up so they can help with the farm work."

*You were just saying I was small the day before yesterday!*

And what was this about me taking over Jun'er's job of herding cows? When had Jun'er ever herded cows? He hadn't even touched one.

The reason my eldest aunt arranged for Zhu Pingan to herd cows was that she remembered the family saying how clever and sensible Zhi'er was, which made her feel even more strongly that she should nip Zhi'er's academic ambitions in the bud early on. On one hand, she feared the family's expenses; it would be better to let Zhi'er work the land honestly to support himself, just like my second uncle. On the other hand, she feared Zhu Pingan would outshine her own son, even though her son's fortune had been read as a "Literary Star."

"Sister-in-law, my Zhi'er is still small. The cows are so big; how can he herd them?" My mother, Lady Chen, frowned in opposition. She had more she wanted to say but held back: *Your Jun'er goes to school, so why should my Zhi'er herd cows? Besides, when has your Jun'er ever herded a cow?*

The third aunt liked Zhu Pingan and spoke up to help: "Exactly, Zhi'er isn't even as tall as a cow's leg yet."

"Our cows are very docile and know their way home. Herding is just making sure they don't eat the neighbors' crops," my eldest aunt insisted. "Zhi'er has gone up the mountain with your second brother before; what's the harm in herding a cow?"

My mother was uneasy about Zhu Pingan herding cows, but my eldest aunt persisted, making the dinner table quite tense.

"A doting mother spoils her child. It's good for Zhi'er to get some exercise. If he truly can't do it, we can stop him later," my grandmother said, siding with the eldest aunt, her words clearly indicating her agreement.

In a fit of pique, my mother barely ate any dinner. Under the table, her hand reached out and pinched my father countless times.

As a result, my father grimaced and winced several times during the meal.

"Mother, eat more. Herding cows is fine; I like our cows," Zhu Pingan said, using his chopsticks to help Lady Chen with her food, his soft, childish voice attempting to comfort her.

His son's maturity made Lady Chen feel much better, but the thought of the eldest aunt's child going to school while her own child had to herd cows at such a young age still left her feeling dissatisfied.

"If Zhi'er is to herd cows, give him an extra half a pancake with every meal from now on," my grandfather commanded.

Grandfather usually did not interfere in the inner workings of the household; as long as things weren't too outrageous, he would turn a blind eye. Although he valued the eldest son's family, he was also very fond of his chubby grandson, Zhu Pingan.

As night fell, the moon slowly rose, surrounded by faint, swirling clouds that draped around it like a light veil. The moonlight was gentle, the night was beautiful, and all seemed peaceful.

The moonlight was quiet and gentle, but the east wing was not.

"Why does his son get to go to school while my son has to herd cows? You do the work, Da Chuan has already put in so much effort for this, and now Zhi'er has to herd cows too. Do we owe the eldest brother's family something?"

"Are you dead? Why won't you say a word!"

"How did I end up marrying a man like you, who doesn't even dare to utter a single word!"

For my father, saving a little private money for himself was already difficult enough; asking him to oppose his parents, elder brother, and sister-in-law was likely too much. He also thought that it was good for a boy to experience some hardship, and besides, Mother had said that if he couldn't do it, they would stop, so he had remained silent at the dinner table.

But Lady Chen didn't care about any of that.

Poor old Dad, my condolences to you.

Zhu Pingan unceremoniously made his escape. *Your wife, your problem; good luck, Dad.*

*A shepherd boy rides a yellow cow, his song echoing through the woods.*

This poem was a perfect description of Zhu Pingan's current state. Riding on the back of an old yellow cow with his legs dangling, a bamboo water flask tucked at his waist, and a fishing rod in hand. A piece of hemp line hung from the rod, with a sprig of bright green grass tied to the end. The grass dangled just in front of the cow's head, and guided by the grass, the old cow trotted along with steady steps.

On the cow's back was a simple bamboo saddle my father had made last night, so Zhu Pingan's small frame could sit steadily. The bamboo was lightweight and did not hinder the cow's movement.

Sitting on the cow's back, Zhu Pingan's thoughts drifted along with the cow's footsteps.

Speaking of which, this poem about the shepherd boy was written by Yuan Mei of the Qing Dynasty, wasn't it? He could use any poem or prose from the Qing Dynasty. Nalan Xingde's "If life were only like the first meeting," Gong Zizhen's "Falling flowers are not unfeeling things," Zhao Yi's "Generations after generations produce new talents," and even Cangyang Jia Cuo's "Whether we meet or not"—wouldn't they all be at his disposal?

He had also memorized quite a few Eight-Legged Essays from the Qing Dynasty during his graduate studies. Although he couldn't recite them perfectly, he remembered many of the general structures. The Eight-Legged Essays of the Qing were much more standardized than those of the Ming.

While he could use or modify poems and lyrics, he couldn't necessarily use the Eight-Legged Essays directly. Every essay was based on a specific prompt. Although the prompts were always from the Four Books and Five Classics, there were so many of them that he didn't know which one would appear. If he was lucky and the topic overlapped with what he remembered, he would be set; but if the topic was different, it would all be for naught.

In the modern era, he had studied Old Chinese, but if he were asked to write an Eight-Legged Essay, he wouldn't be able to do it at all. Modern education focused on criticizing the Eight-Legged style, and schools never taught how to write them—besides, he didn't even know how to use a calligraphy brush.

In short, going to school was very necessary.

Uh, it seemed the private school in Shanghe Village was located on that low hill not far from the border of Xiahe Village.

The small hill was lush with grass and water; perhaps he should go herd the cows over there instead.

(End of Chapter)