Chapter 217: Jasmine Pavilion Academy (Part 2)

Although Liu Dalin could not walk, he was carried by two servants and made a tour of the library, both upstairs and downstairs. His feelings of admiration were palpable. As a native of Lingao and the only jinshi the county had produced since its establishment in the Tang dynasty, he had always placed great importance on the local literary tradition. However, Lingao had always been sparsely populated and poor. Merely maintaining a few academies and private schools was a struggle, let alone undertaking the costly endeavor of building a collection of books. In ancient times, cultivating scholars was an expensive affair—the prosperity of literature and the abundance of jinshi and zhuangyuan (top scholars) in the Jiangnan region during the Ming and Qing dynasties was no accident, nor was it simply a matter of “outstanding people and spiritual land,” but rather a result of the local economic level.

Although this library was not large, it was a rare gesture of goodwill from the Australians towards Lingao! In his eyes, the significance of the Australians donating this library was far greater than their efforts in suppressing bandits and building roads in the county—it was a “hundred-year plan.” This could not help but raise new questions in his mind about the Crossing Group’s ultimate goals.

During this time, Xiong Buyou and his men were constantly observing the expressions and actions of the attendees.

Among them were several individuals on the blacklist of the Political Security General Directorate, including Huang Shoutong’s second son—a legitimate subsidized scholar of the county. This dark-skinned, muscular young scholar, in his thirties, remained silent throughout the ribbon-cutting and tour, but his eyes darted around, exceptionally vigilant.

From his complexion, his muscles, and the occasional glimpse of his large, veiny hands, Xiong Buyou knew this man was no frail scholar. He had worked the fields, been on the battlefield, and killed men. He was strong-willed and educated. Xiong Buyou found himself admiring him: if all the scholars of the Great Ming were like this, instead of spending their days in empty talk about nature and principle, the course of modern Chinese history might not have taken such a regressive turn.

Most of the attendees were in a relaxed, casual mood, wandering about and engaging in lofty discussions. Xiong Buyou had set up long tables under the large trees of the Jasmine Pavilion, covered with tablecloths. In the style of a reception, trays on the tables were filled with glass cups, and four small Western-style barrels contained different flavors of kvass: mint, citrus, jackfruit, and green tea. Beside them were large insulated buckets filled with crushed ice, with tongs for self-service.

In addition to kvass, ordinary tea was also prepared. Tea-filled cups were neatly arranged, and a row of thermos flasks with rattan casings stood ready to brew tea for anyone who desired it.

Xiong Buyou had also requested a group of students from the National School to serve as attendants. Hu Qingbai had originally intended to send some pretty girls, but Xiong Buyou thought it best not to have girls present, lest it leave a bad impression on the pedantic scholars. So, only the more presentable male students came.

The scholars were curious about the style of hospitality, and they flocked to the new, chilled beverages. A long queue quickly formed in front of the kvass table, while the hot tea station remained relatively deserted. Even so, some were intensely interested in the thermos flasks.

Unlike mirrors, which were non-essential, hot water was a difficult commodity for the ancients. Although there were devices like insulated teapot cozies and “soup pots” on the stove, one still had to boil water whenever it was needed. Wealthier families always kept a “wind stove” with smoldering charcoal ready. A wind stove was a small charcoal stove that could be quickly fanned to boil water. Ordinary families, unable to afford charcoal for a wind stove, had to make do with lukewarm water.

In the rural China of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, very few modern industrial products could find a market. The only real successes were matches and kerosene lamps, followed by thermos flasks. The latter, at least, gained popularity in the more prosperous rural areas.

This showed that the thermos had a certain market potential in the Great Ming.

Xiong Buyou observed that the scholars’ perception of the Crossing Group was one of “great interest” and “envy.” Some were serious, but none showed obvious hostility. At the opening ceremony, Jinshi Liu’s attitude had softened. It seemed there was a chance to win him over! However, the jinshi’s stance was still clear. Throughout the ceremony, apart from brief responses to greetings from local officials and scholars, he only gave a slight nod to Xiong’s greetings, not uttering a single word.

This old man still has his doubts about us, Xiong Buyou thought. But we have plenty of sugar-coated bullets here.

Meanwhile, Wu Mingjin saw that most of the county’s juren and xiucai had arrived and that none seemed to have “joined the rebels,” and he breathed a sigh of relief. He called Wang Ci aside and asked in a low voice if the kūnzéi bandits had made any moves to recruit the local scholars. He also inquired if the kūnzéi bandits had attached any conditions to the restoration of the Jasmine Pavilion, such as requiring the county’s scholars to do something for them.

Wang Ci quickly replied that their restoration of the Jasmine Pavilion and the county school was unconditional and that they had not asked the scholars to do anything. Wu Mingjin’s face showed disbelief, and he questioned him repeatedly, much to Wang Ci’s annoyance. Finally, Wang Ci sneered and said, “The scholars are all outside. I will call them in now, and Your Honor can ask them yourself!”

Wu Mingjin gave a dry laugh and said in a low voice, “Old sir, do not be angry. This is merely a precaution. Scholars are not like the country bumpkins—they are just ignorant masses. If scholars join the rebels, the consequences will be endless.”

“I understand that, and I will not let them succeed,” Wang Ci said firmly. “But in my opinion, the Australians have done nothing wrong. On the contrary, they have brought many benefits to this county…”

“Hmm,” Wu Mingjin nodded and closed his eyes, silent. After a long moment, he opened his eyes and said, “It is precisely this that is unsettling.”

If they were just here to burn, kill, and plunder, they would be no different from ordinary bandits. But to perform such acts of kindness everywhere is to win the hearts of the people. Why would common bandits want to win hearts? Their ambitions are not small.

Wang Ci did not think as far ahead as Wu Mingjin. For him, solving the immediate problems was enough; he didn’t much care who solved them.

After the ribbon-cutting ceremony, the Crossing Group hosted a banquet. The feast was not lavish, but it allowed many poor tongsheng and xiucai, who had not seen meat for years, to eat their fill. Some, whose stomachs were long accustomed to a vegetarian diet, had first filled themselves with iced kvass and then gorged on fish and meat. Their stomachs couldn’t handle it, and they began running to the latrine before the banquet was even over, causing Wang Ci to exclaim that all decorum had been lost.

Despite this minor incident, the overall atmosphere at the banquet was harmonious and joyful, with the flower of friendship between the Great Ming and Australia blooming. Xiong Buyou gave a passionate speech, stating that the Australian Group would make even greater contributions to the cause of education in Lingao. He also announced that the funding for the Jasmine Pavilion Academy would be supported by them, including teachers’ salaries and student living allowances. This would be allocated through an organization called a “foundation.”

The natives did not know what a foundation was, but the Australians’ willingness to sponsor the Jasmine Pavilion Academy earned everyone’s praise. In the enthusiastic atmosphere, the attending gentry also made donations of two, three, or five liang of silver, amounting to a surprising thirty liang. Xiong Buyou struck while the iron was hot and, at the banquet, proposed to appoint Liu Dalin as the headmaster (shanzhang) of the Jasmine Pavilion Academy. The proposal received unanimous approval—in Lingao, who was more qualified than Liu Dalin in terms of scholarly achievement and reputation?

Liu Dalin was caught off guard, but in such a setting, he could not refuse publicly. Fortunately, the Jasmine Pavilion Academy had existed since ancient times, so serving as its headmaster could not be construed as accepting a puppet post. He made a few polite remarks about his physical disability and his fear of failing to meet expectations, saying he could only do his best, and thus accepted.

Of course, Liu Dalin’s role as headmaster was nominal. With his disability, it would be a great effort for him to come and inspect the academy and give lectures every now and then. A headmaster was not only responsible for teaching but also for the specific affairs of the academy, much like a modern school principal. This was difficult for Liu Dalin to do given his physical condition. Therefore, Wang Ci was appointed as the deputy headmaster, specifically responsible for the academy’s affairs. Unlike other academies, the Jasmine Pavilion Academy had a strong official character from the beginning, so it was appropriate for the county education official to manage it.

Wang Ci then hired several learned and upright juren and xiucai from the county to serve as the academy’s professors. With that, the basic structure was in place.

The Jasmine Pavilion Academy had a quota of forty students, divided into four study halls. The new academy did not accept established scholars—Lingao was not a place with a flourishing literary tradition, and the number of county scholars was small, making the county school more than sufficient. The academy primarily recruited tongsheng.

Students had to be qualified tongsheng or be recommended by the Crossing Group. This was a point Xiong Buyou had specifically raised. Their sponsorship of the county’s traditional Confucian education was not just to curry favor with the local intellectuals; they also intended to cultivate their own scholars. In the future, when they needed to send intelligence personnel to the mainland, using scholars as cover would make it easier to infiltrate the upper echelons of society. To pass as a scholar, the transmigrators’ poor calligraphy would not suffice. For example, the Leizhou plan, which was already on the agenda, would be an impossible mission without professional training to masquerade as a prefectural or county official.

Every student enrolled would receive a living allowance. This allowance was not in kind, such as rice, charcoal, or lamp oil, but in circulation coupons, at a standard of thirty yuan per person per month. They were also given bedding and cloth for clothes once a year. In addition, study materials like brushes, ink, paper, inkstones, and books were provided free of charge. The treatment was exceptionally generous.

The academy’s students were housed in dormitories and provided with meals—the catering was handled by the Women’s Cooperative Restaurant in the East Gate Market. The standard of meals was the same as that for the students of the National School. Students were given one day of rest every six days. This system of rest was not an invention of the transmigrators; some academies in the Ming dynasty already had a five-day-a-week schedule.