Chapter 427 - Moli Xuan Academy (Part 2)

Though Liu Dalin could no longer walk and required two family members to carry him about, he insisted on touring every floor of the library, his heart swelling with emotion at each turn. As Lingao's only jinshi since the county's establishment in the Tang dynasty, the state of local scholarship had always weighed heavily upon him. Yet Lingao had ever been a poor and sparsely populated backwater. Merely keeping a handful of academies and charitable schools afloat had proven difficult enough—a proper book collection was an expense beyond imagining. In ancient times, the seeds of learning required wealth to cultivate. The flourishing literary traditions of Jiangsu and Zhejiang during the Ming and Qing, with their abundance of jinshi and top scholars, were no happy accident, nor simply the blessing of talented folk. Such achievements were built upon economic foundations.

This library was modest in scale, yet the very fact that the Australians harbored such intentions for Lingao stirred something within him. In his estimation, their donation of this library far outweighed their suppression of bandits or their road-building—this was a "hundred-year endeavor." And that raised questions anew in his mind about the Crossing Group's true purpose.

Throughout the ceremony, Xiong Buyou and his subordinates maintained careful watch over the attendees' expressions and behavior.

Several present were already on the Political Security Bureau's blacklist. Among them was Huang Shoutong's second son—a proper stipend student in the county. This dark-skinned scholar in his thirties, his muscles well-developed, uttered not a word during the ribbon-cutting and tour, yet his eyes darted constantly about, alert to everything around him.

Observing the man's complexion and physique, noting the large hands with their bulging veins, Xiong Buyou understood at once: this was no frail scholar. Here was a man who had labored in fields, seen battlefields, and taken lives. His will was resolute, his mind sharp. Xiong Buyou found himself rather admiring the fellow—if all the scholars of the Great Ming possessed such substance instead of indulging in empty metaphysical talk, perhaps Chinese history would never have entered its period of regression.

Most attendees appeared relaxed, wandering about and chatting animatedly in a "just passing through" mood. Beneath the great osmanthus tree at Moli Xuan, Xiong Buyou had arranged a long table draped with cloth. Crystal glasses filled the platters set out in reception style, while four Western-style barrels offered different flavors of kvass: mint, citrus, jackfruit, and green tea. Beside them stood large insulated containers brimming with crushed ice, with tongs available for anyone to use.

Ordinary tea was also provided. Rows of teacups filled with leaves stood ready, with several rattan-covered thermos bottles lined up alongside. Anyone desiring tea could prepare it at once.

Xiong Buyou had specifically requested a group of National School students to serve as attendants. Hu Qingbai had initially planned to send pretty girls, but Xiong Buyou thought it wiser to keep women out of sight—no need to leave any improper impression on these pedantic scholars. Thus, only well-mannered boys attended.

The scholars were intrigued by the reception format, and the novel iced drinks drew them like magnets. A long queue formed immediately before the kvass table; by comparison, the hot tea station stood rather forlorn. Even so, some attendees took keen interest in the thermos bottles.

Unlike mirrors, which one could do without, the thermos bottle addressed a genuine daily hardship. In ancient times, obtaining hot water was a constant struggle. Though tea-warmers and "soup pots" atop stoves helped with insulation, any need for hot water meant fresh boiling. Wealthier households maintained a "wind stove"—a small charcoal-burning brazier kept smoldering, its intense heat ready to boil water at a moment's notice. Common families, unable to afford charcoal, made do with lukewarm water.

In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, very few modern industrial products found success in rural China. The rare exceptions were matches, kerosene lamps—and thermos bottles. The latter had achieved at least modest penetration in the villages of more prosperous regions.

From this, one could discern that such an item might yet open a market in the Great Ming.

Based on Xiong Buyou's observations, the scholars regarded the Crossing Group with "interest," and perhaps also "envy." Some maintained serious attitudes, but none showed outright hostility. At the opening ceremony, Jinshi Liu's demeanor had softened visibly. The prospect of winning him over seemed hopeful. Yet Liu's position remained guarded. Throughout the entire affair, he exchanged words only with local officials and scholars who approached him—to Xiong Buyou's greeting, he offered merely a slight nod of acknowledgment. Not a single word passed between them.

This old man still harbors doubts about us, Xiong Buyou mused. But we have sugar-coated bullets aplenty.

Meanwhile, Wu Mingjin observed with relief that nearly every provincial graduate and xiucai in the county had attended, and none appeared to have "gone over to the bandits." Drawing Wang Ci aside, he asked in a low voice whether the Kun had made any attempts to recruit local scholars. Had they attached any conditions to the Moli Xuan renovation—perhaps requiring scholars to do something in return?

Wang Ci hastened to assure him that the renovation of Moli Xuan and the county school came with no strings attached; no demands had been placed upon the scholars. Wu Mingjin looked skeptical and pressed him repeatedly, until Wang Ci grew quite vexed. At last he let out a cold laugh: "The scholars are all outside. I'll summon them at once, Your Honor, and you may question them yourself!"

Wu Mingjin laughed awkwardly and lowered his voice: "Sir, no need for anger. This is merely precaution. Scholars are not like country bumpkins—those are merely ignorant commoners. Should scholars join the bandits, the consequences would be endless."

"I understand. We absolutely cannot allow them to succeed," Wang Ci said firmly. "But in my view, the Australians have done nothing improper. Indeed, they have brought considerable benefits to the county..."

"Hmm." Wu Mingjin nodded, closing his eyes. After a long silence, he opened them again. "That is precisely what troubles me."

Were they simply burning, killing, and plundering, they would be ordinary bandits and nothing more. But doing good deeds everywhere like this—that was buying hearts. What need had ordinary bandits for popular support? Their ambitions ran deep indeed.

Wang Ci did not think as far ahead as Wu Mingjin. For him, solving immediate problems was good enough. Who solved them mattered little.

After the ribbon-cutting ceremony came a banquet hosted by the Crossing Group. The fare was not lavish, yet it allowed many impoverished tongsheng and xiucai who had not tasted meat in ages to eat until their faces glistened. A few whose stomachs had grown accustomed to vegetarian fare, having just consumed a bellyful of iced kvass followed by fish and meat, found their constitutions rebelling—they fled for the latrine before the banquet even concluded. Wang Ci lamented aloud that this was a disgrace to scholars everywhere.

Despite this minor incident, the overall atmosphere remained harmonious and festive, with friendship between the Great Ming and Australia blossoming splendidly. At the banquet, Xiong Buyou delivered an enthusiastic speech, pledging that the Australian Group would make ever greater contributions to Lingao's educational cause. He also announced that all expenses for Moli Xuan Academy would henceforth be supported through an organization called a "foundation."

The natives knew nothing of foundations, but the Australians' willingness to sponsor Moli Xuan Academy won unanimous praise. Caught up in the warm atmosphere, the attending gentry donated three to five liang each, collecting a total of thirty liang in silver. Striking while the iron was hot, Xiong Buyou proposed on the spot that Liu Dalin serve as Academy Head of Moli Xuan Academy. The proposal met with unanimous approval—in all of Lingao, who could rival Liu Dalin's examination rank and literary reputation?

Liu Dalin found himself somewhat caught off guard, but under such circumstances, public refusal was impossible. Fortunately, Moli Xuan Academy had existed since ancient times; accepting the position of Academy Head could hardly be construed as taking up a puppet post. He offered a few modest words about his physical disability and his fear of disappointing everyone, said he could only do his best, and accepted.

Liu Dalin's position as Academy Head was, of course, purely nominal. Given his condition, simply coming to inspect and lecture every few days would be admirable enough. An Academy Head not only lectured but also managed the academy's daily affairs—the equivalent of a modern school principal. For someone in Liu Dalin's state, this was quite impossible. Thus Wang Ci was appointed Deputy Academy Head, responsible for the actual administration. Moli Xuan Academy, from its inception, bore a distinctly official character, making the County Educational Director's involvement entirely appropriate.

Wang Ci also hired several learned and upright provincial graduates and xiucai from the county as academy professors. With this, the basic structure was established.

Moli Xuan Academy was allocated forty students, divided among four study halls. The new academy would not admit degree-holding students—Lingao, unlike regions with flourishing literary traditions, had very few xiucai in the county. One county school was more than sufficient. Its primary focus would be tongsheng.

Enrollment required either tongsheng qualification or recommendation by the Crossing Group. This latter stipulation was specifically proposed by Xiong Buyou. Their sponsorship of traditional Confucian education was not merely to curry favor with local intellectuals; it also served to cultivate their own scholars. This was especially true for the intelligence agents they would eventually deploy to the Mainland—a scholar's identity would facilitate infiltration into the upper echelons of society. To impersonate a scholar, however, the Transmigrators' atrocious handwriting simply would not do. The Leizhou plan, for instance, was already on the agenda. Without specialized training, attempting to pose as a prefecture or county official would be an impossible mission.

Every enrolled student received a living allowance. Rather than in-kind disbursements of rice, charcoal, or lamp oil, this allowance came in Circulation Vouchers—thirty Yuan per person per month. Additionally, bedding and fabric for clothing were provided annually, while study supplies such as brushes, ink, paper, inkstones, and books were furnished free of charge. The treatment was quite generous.

Academy students lived in dormitories and received communal meals provided by the Women's Cooperative Restaurant at East Gate Market, at the same standard as National School students. They could rest one day out of every six. This rest system was no Transmigrator invention; in the Ming dynasty, some academies already observed one day off in five.

(End of Chapter)