Popularization of Chinese Classical Literature Masterpieces -- The Scholars of the Confucian Academy

Author: Wu Jingzi (Qing Dynasty) / Country:
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-05-01
Features: In just a few years, Wang Mian had also truly understood after reading. That day was the time of yellow rapeseed flowers, and the weather was agitated. Wang Mian, tired from herding cattle, sat on the green grass. Suddenly, thick clouds gathered, and a heavy rain fell. The dark clouds were edged with white, gradually dispersing, revealing a bright sunlight that dyed the entire lake red. The lake shore was a patchwork of green, purple, and green. The branches looked as if they had been washed with water, especially lovely in their lush green. There were about a dozen lotuses in the lake, with clear water dripping from their buds, and water droplets rolling on the lotus leaves. Wang Mian watched for a while and thought, "The ancients said, 'People are in a painting,' and it is indeed true. But I have no painter here to draw a few lotuses, which would be interesting." Then she thought, "There is nothing one cannot learn in the world. Why not draw a few myself?" Just as she was thinking, she saw a sturdy man from afar carrying a load of food boxes, holding a bottle of wine in his hand, with a felt strip hanging from the food box. He came to the willow tree, spread the felt, and opened the food box. Three men walked over, wearing square hats, one in a blue silk straight robe, and the other two in white silk straight robes, all around forty or fifty years old, shaking white paper fans and walking slowly. The man in the blue robe was fat, and when he arrived under the tree, he bowed to the one in the white robe, who sat above, while the thin one sat opposite—presumably the host, sitting below and pouring wine. After a while, the fat man said, "Mr. Wei has returned and bought a new house, larger than the one in Zhonglou Street in the capital, worth two thousand taels of silver. The owner, wanting to gain prestige and respect, sold it for a few dozen taels less. On the tenth of the previous month, they moved, and the high official and the county magistrate came in person to celebrate, staying to drink until the middle of the night. Who on the street doesn’t respect him?" The thin man replied, "The county magistrate is a jinshi from the Renwu year, a disciple of Mr. Wei, so it is only natural for him to come and celebrate." The fat man said, "My relative-in-law is also a disciple of Mr. Wei and is now a county magistrate in Henan. The other day, my son-in-law came home and brought two pounds of dried venison as a gift. This plate is for you. Next time my son-in-law goes, I will ask my relative-in-law to write a letter to pay respects to Mr. Wei. If he is willing to visit the village to return the favor, it will save these villagers from letting their donkeys and pigs eat grain in our fields." The thin man said, "Mr. Wei can be considered a scholar." The bearded man said, "I heard that when he left the capital recently, the emperor personally saw him off outside the city, walking hand in hand for over ten steps. Mr. Wei repeatedly bowed to refuse, only then did he get into his carriage. From the looks of it, he must be about to become an official." The three of them talked endlessly. Wang Mian, seeing it was late, led the cow back home. From then on, she stopped using the money she had earned to buy books and asked someone to buy some rouge and powder from the city to learn to paint lotuses. At first, her paintings were not good, but after three months, the lotuses in her paintings had the spirit and color of the real thing, and with just one sheet of paper, they looked as if they grew in the lake, as if they had just been picked from the lake and stuck onto the paper. The villagers, seeing how good her paintings were, also brought money to buy them. Wang Mian used the money to buy good things to honor her mother. The news spread, and soon the entire county of Zhuji knew she was a famous painter of boneless flowers and plants, and they all rushed to buy her paintings. By the time she was seventeen or eighteen, she no longer lived with the Qin family. She painted a few strokes each day, read the classics, and gradually no longer worried about food and clothing, making her mother happy. Wang Mian was naturally intelligent. Before she was twenty, she had mastered all the great knowledge of astronomy, geography, and the classics. But her temperament was different: she neither sought official positions nor made friends, spending her days reading in seclusion. On the Book of Songs illustrations, she saw the attire of Qu Yuan, so she made a very tall hat and a very wide robe. On days when the flowers bloomed and the willows were beautiful, she would load her mother onto a cow cart, put on her tall hat and wide robe, and holding a whip, sing songs while wandering in the countryside, towns, and by the lake. The children would follow her in groups, laughing at her, but she paid no mind. Only the neighbor, Qin Lao, though a farmer, was a man of sense. Having seen her grow up, he admired and loved her for her refinement, often inviting her to sit in his cottage to chat.
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