Chapter 216: Jasmine Pavilion Academy (Part 1)

The courtyard of the Jasmine Pavilion had once been filled with jasmine flowers, but over the years, many had withered. As part of the restoration, they were replanted. Li Xiaolü also designed the landscape, creating a Suzhou-style garden with enclosing walls, latticed windows, a rockery, and a pond. In the end, the newly restored Jasmine Pavilion took on the look of the many imitation ancient buildings from their original time.

Wang Ci was dumbfounded. The concept of private gardens was unknown in Lingao. Apart from the modest rock and water decorations in the county yamen’s backyard, the Jasmine Pavilion was the finest man-made landscape in the county, a frequent venue for the elegant gatherings of local officials and literati.

The speed of the construction also seemed unimaginable to Wang Ci. He had not seen the bandits use any special machinery, nor did they employ an overwhelming number of workers. By his own estimation, if he had organized the repairs, it would have taken at least half a month, to say nothing of the fact that the Australians had also expanded the site with many new buildings.

In addition to the original structures, the construction team added several new buildings, including a two-story waterside pavilion for gatherings and banquets, modern-style classrooms and dormitories, as well as toilets and bathhouses.

Seeing the many new rooms, Wang Ci sought out Xiong Buyou, who was coordinating the work on-site, to inquire about their purpose.

“Of course they have a purpose,” Xiong Buyou said with a smile. “The Jasmine Pavilion used to be an academy, did it not?”

The Jasmine Pavilion had been an academy during the Song dynasty, its fortunes rising and falling with the times. It had also served as an academy for a long period during the Ming, but by the time Wang Ci arrived, it existed in name only. The reason was simple: no money.

If even the county school lacked funds, a private academy like the Jasmine Pavilion, which relied on public donations, was in an even more dire state. It had once owned over a hundred mu of land as a source of funding, but over the years, the land had been gradually sold off or seized by powerful landlords, its accounts a muddled mess. Without funds, they could not hire good teachers or provide stipends, and so the students had vanished.

“Does Chief Xiong mean to restore the Jasmine Pavilion Academy?” Wang Ci asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“Of course. Otherwise, what is the point of repairing it? Merely for drinking parties?”

“This is a truly great kindness!” Wang Ci bowed deeply in his excitement. “On behalf of the scholars of Lingao, I offer my gratitude…”

“Alright, alright, there is no need for empty formalities.” Don’t be in such a hurry to represent anyone, Xiong Buyou thought. You don’t even know that this is a sugar-coated bullet. It tastes sweet now, but you’ll find out what’s inside later.

After the reconstruction was complete, Lingao County held a “warm,” “simple,” and “harmonious” ribbon-cutting ceremony. Wu Mingjin had been reluctant to appear at a bandit event, but the restoration of the Jasmine Pavilion was a major event for the county, a great deed that promoted culture and education. His absence would make him seem “out of touch with the people.” So, he had to attend.

Wang Ci was once again used by the transmigrators. He tirelessly ran around, delivering invitations to the ceremony to all the gentry and scholars in the county. The Executive Committee had correctly estimated that given the local fame and significance of the Jasmine Pavilion, few would refuse.

As expected, not only did all the county’s juren and xiucai declare it a grand event they must attend, but even Liu Dalin, whose attendance had been uncertain, stated that it was a great event for the education of the entire county and that he absolutely had to come. Not only that, but Wang Ci also managed to get the esteemed Jinshi Liu to write an inscription for the restored pavilion.

Though Liu Dalin still harbored reservations about the transmigrators, he had witnessed their actions over the past year: suppressing bandits, building roads, providing relief to the people, and settling the poor. Though he remained behind closed doors, his family constantly gathered news from outside.

He was a local jinshi, famous throughout the county and even the entire Qiongzhou Prefecture. He knew he was a target for these bandits. For months, he had stayed at home, engrossed in his books, avoiding not only going out but also seeing few guests. Only his closest relatives and friends were granted an audience. He kept poison and a knife by his side, ready to take his own life at any moment. This was partly to avoid capture and humiliation—he had advised on the attack against the bandits and heard that many of them had been killed, so he could not be sure they wouldn’t seek revenge. It was also to prevent them from forcing him to take up a puppet post, in which case he could die to prove his innocence. The first time the bandits entered the city, the atmosphere in his household was extremely tense. Not just him, but his entire family and servants were prepared to die together.

Unexpectedly, the bandits retreated after entering the city, merely delivering a few dozen pirate heads to the county. In the following months, apart from a group of them wandering into the city during the New Year, no large contingent of their forces entered the city again. As for Liu Dalin’s family, they were completely ignored—it was as if the bandits didn’t even know a person like Liu Dalin existed in Lingao.

The jinshi had imagined countless times how the bandits would storm his residence, a knife to his throat, and how he would stand unyielding, either dying while cursing the rebels or taking poison. But none of the scenes he had imagined came to pass. No one came seeking revenge, nor did anyone try to coerce or entice him into taking a puppet post. While relieved, he also felt a sense of disappointment. These bandits are truly clueless.

His family, unaware of his thoughts, breathed a sigh of relief that the bandits were not bothering them. When they relayed the news from outside, Liu Dalin, though he never commented, was secretly astonished. What were these overseas Australians, who claimed to be descendants of the Song, really after in Lingao?

They suppressed bandits, built roads, opened workshops, and constructed waterworks—not a single one of these actions was not beneficial to the country and the people. They had traveled thousands of miles from their homeland to this remote southern county to do all this. In this era, there was no concept of “the spirit of Lei Feng.” Liu Dalin couldn’t see what practical benefits they could gain from “learning from Lei Feng” in Lingao.

With his political wisdom, he naturally understood that this was a move to win the hearts of the people. But it seemed pointless to win hearts in Lingao—the place was so remote and barren. Even if the Australians could make the entire county rebel, what then? Even if they were more capable and could occupy the entire island of Hainan, it would still be just a corner of the South China Sea.

When Wang Ci came with the invitation, his family strongly advised him not to attend, to keep a low profile. Though it was a good thing, if the government forces ever retook Lingao, it would be hard to explain. But Liu Dalin saw it differently.

In his view, regardless of the Australians’ motives, their repair of the Confucian temple and restoration of the Jasmine Pavilion were great deeds for the local community. As the one and only jinshi from Lingao, his absence from such an occasion would disappoint the scholars. Besides, by always hiding at home, he could never grasp the Australians’ intentions. It was better to be more open, to go out and see for himself. Seeing is believing. Finally, since the Australians hadn’t sought revenge or forced him into a “puppet post” for over a year, it was unlikely they would do so now. Moreover, they had never raised a banner of rebellion or driven out Wu Mingjin—Lingao was still a county of the Great Ming.

Liu Dalin’s acceptance of the invitation and his writing of the inscription caused a great stir among the scholars and gentry of Lingao. For a time, the news of the Australians repairing the county school and rebuilding the Jasmine Pavilion was the talk of the town. Even those who had been critical of their actions had to admit that the Australians were “devoted to the cause of education.”

To reduce the resistance of the local scholars and gentry, Xiong Buyou, despite holding a modern ribbon-cutting ceremony, deliberately minimized the display of the transmigrators’ power. Only he and a few others were present, and they carried no obvious weapons. The atmosphere was one of harmony.

The ceremony was a blend of ancient and modern. After speeches from the leaders of both sides, Wu Ya personally unveiled the stone tablet inscribed with the “Record of the Chongzhen Era Restoration of the Jasmine Pavilion,” written by Liu Dalin. As the red silk cloth fell away, Xiong Buyou and the few transmigrators behind him spontaneously applauded, and surprisingly, the surrounding natives followed suit.

Wu Mingjin elegantly cut the silk ribbon with a pair of silver scissors—the only part of the ceremony that caused discussion among the scholars, who thought it too wasteful. The scissors, made of more than two liang of silver, became a gift for the ribbon-cutter.

After the ribbon-cutting, the crowd toured the newly renovated Jasmine Pavilion, marveling at the new facilities and furniture. Those who had more dealings with the transmigrators knew that the several newly built studies were modeled after the Australian schools.

What made the scholars most envious was the addition of a library. It was already stocked with hundreds of exquisitely printed books from the newly established printing factory of the Ministry of Light Industry. From the Hundred Schools of Thought to the Classics, Histories, Masters, and Collections, a wide range of representative works had been selected. The source texts were mostly from the collated editions of the Zhonghua Book Company and the electronic versions from Taiwan’s Academia Sinica. The quality of the editions was first-rate for the Ming dynasty. The scholars eagerly vied to read them.

Flipping through these books, with their incredibly clear characters, snow-white paper, and fine binding, the crowd couldn’t help but marvel. A debate even broke out between the “pro-punctuation” and “anti-punctuation” factions: the former argued that punctuation was a good thing, while the latter believed it would damage the understanding of the original text.

But regardless of the punctuation debate, Lingao had never had such a well-stocked library, public or private. The impact on the scholars was immense. Weren’t the Australians from a “barbarian land”? Why were their books so exquisitely printed? And the proofreading of each book was clearly done with great effort, something no barbarian land could achieve. Could it be that they were truly descendants of the Song, the legitimate heirs of Huaxia? The distinction between civilized and barbarian began to waver in the hearts of many scholars.