Chapter Thirty: Punctuation

“Sage of Letters, our ancestor, your grace blesses the world. Giant of the ages, teacher of all generations. In this flourishing era, prosperity abounds and the people thrive. High cliffs and noble trees, ever cautious lest order be lost…”

“The first bow, for the civilization of China, virtue embracing heaven and earth.”

“The second bow, for the sage’s doctrine, merits and faults through ancient and modern times.”

At long last, Li Sanjian entered the county school as he had wished. On this day, he, along with more than three hundred students, followed the academic officials led by Huang Huan to worship the Sage Confucius.

Li Sanjian wore a long scholar’s robe, standing with hands clasped, showing the demeanor of a Confucian student, solemn and proper.

Though small, the county school of Lingshan possessed all the essentials—hall, dormitory, library, kitchen, and other teaching facilities, as well as the statue of the Sage.

The hall, so-called, was the classroom. Although the classroom in Lingshan’s county school was simple, it could still accommodate hundreds of students for reading lessons.

“The gentleman says: Learning cannot cease. Indigo is extracted from the blue, yet is bluer than blue; ice is made of water, yet colder than water. Wood straight by the cord is bent into a wheel, whose curve meets the compass. Though exposed to the sun, it never regains its straightness, for it is the bending that makes it so. Thus, wood is straight when it obeys the cord, metal is sharp when it meets the whetstone. The gentleman is learned and daily self-examines, thus his knowledge is clear and his conduct free from error… Thus, unless one climbs high mountains, one does not know the height of heaven; unless one approaches deep valleys, one does not know the thickness of earth; unless one hears the words of the ancient kings, one does not know the greatness of learning…”

After worshiping Confucius, instruction began in the classroom.

First, Professor Huang Huan of Lingshan County School orally taught Xunzi’s “Encouragement to Learning.”

“Encouragement to Learning” was one of the foundational texts.

Huang Huan lectured from the dais, while below, hundreds of students aged eight to fifteen knelt with the school-issued “Encouragement to Learning” and read aloud together.

Each had a small wooden table before them, for placing books or writing.

At fourteen, Li Sanjian was among the older students. In another year, when he turned fifteen, if he could not advance to the prefectural school or pass the qualifying exam, he would be expelled from the county school, and his path to the civil examinations might be cut short, leaving little hope for the future.

Thus, time was running out for Li Sanjian; he must, within the year, master the basic curriculum of the county school, then either advance to the prefectural or Imperial Academy, or pass the qualifying exam, followed by the provincial and palace examinations.

Fortunately, Li Sanjian had studied under Su Shi for over a year, and had memorized much of these foundational texts.

As he read, nodding and swaying with enthusiasm, Li Sanjian used a brush to mark punctuation on “Encouragement to Learning,” thus enabling faster comprehension and memorization.

The county school’s printed “Encouragement to Learning” was merely a few pages of simple mimeograph. Li Sanjian made no hesitation in writing and drawing upon them.

After finishing “Encouragement to Learning,” came “Record of Yueyang Tower.” Li Sanjian, as ever, wrote and marked upon the paper.

“Li, what are you doing?”

Just as Li Sanjian was reading with delight, Professor Huang Huan’s voice suddenly sounded behind him.

Li Sanjian, startled, turned to see Huang Huan glaring at him angrily.

Holding his brush, Li Sanjian smiled awkwardly and replied, “Professor Huang, I… the student… encountered some difficulties, so I made a few notes.”

“Notes?” Huang Huan snapped, “Such desecration of the sages’ works, such disrespect for the ancients—what punishment do you deserve?”

A scholar must first learn to cherish books—not only to care for them, but to clean the desk before reading and lay out a cloth. While reading, one must sit upright; when turning a page, use the side of the right thumb to lift the edge, then gently press with the index finger to open a new page.

Such actions express reverence. Scribbling on books, as Li Sanjian did, was frowned upon.

Huang Huan was truly troubled. He had not wanted to admit Li Sanjian to the county school, but upon learning of his orphaned childhood, living with his mother in hardship, and seeing his compassion—saving two servants—he reluctantly allowed him to enroll.

It must be known that the county school was an official institution, not easy to enter. In the capital, official schools usually admitted sons of officials below the eighth rank or outstanding youths among commoners. Had it been in Dongjing Kaifeng, Li Sanjian would never have been admitted. But Lingshan was remote in Lingnan, giving him a chance.

Generally, after entering an official school, students paid little; the government covered tuition and provided room and board, sometimes supplemented by private philanthropists for those in dire need.

The school rules forbade damaging books, yet Li Sanjian violated them on his first day, leaving Huang Huan frustrated.

“Rule thirteen says… What have you written?” Huang Huan, about to punish Li Sanjian, suddenly noticed something peculiar and asked in surprise.

“These are… punctuation marks…” Li Sanjian replied hesitantly.

“Punctuation marks? What are those?” Huang Huan grew increasingly perplexed and curious as he examined them.

“They mark pauses and tone in sentences,” Li Sanjian explained.

“Pauses? Why are your marks so strange?” Huang Huan murmured.

At that time, there were some rudimentary marks—simple circles, rarely used. Usually, a text was just a block of characters with no punctuation.

“Professor Huang, this is a comma, this is a period, this is a question mark, an exclamation mark… If a thought is unfinished, use a comma; if a sentence is complete, use a period; for feelings like joy, anger, sorrow, use an exclamation mark; to pose questions, use a question mark; for lists, use a dash…” Li Sanjian patiently explained.

“This method makes it much easier for a slow student like myself to read and comprehend,” he added.

Commas? Questions marks? Exclamation marks? Each with its own meaning? The more Huang Huan listened, the more astonished he became, sinking into deep thought. The world only knew simple marks for pauses. If it were truly as Li Sanjian described, reading would become much easier, making difficult texts accessible, aiding scholars in expressing thoughts and understanding written language.

Most importantly, beginners could quickly grasp even the most difficult writings.

Had someone taught him, or did he invent this himself? Why had no one thought of this before?

These two questions filled Huang Huan’s mind…

“Professor Huang…” Li Sanjian saw Huang Huan staring at him in silence and felt uneasy.

“Did you discover this yourself, or did someone instruct you?” Huang Huan finally asked.

“What are these?”

“They look like little insects…”

By now, many students had gathered around, staring at the strange marks, whispering and discussing excitedly.

“Well…” Li Sanjian hesitated, then answered, “A year ago, I fell into the sea and lost consciousness. In my dreams, a fairy appeared and guided me…”

Li Sanjian used his familiar trick—attributing things to supernatural intervention—to avoid trouble.

Fell into the sea? A fairy's guidance? Huang Huan stared in disbelief and declared, “Boy, you’re spouting nonsense—utterly absurd.”

With that, Huang Huan swept his sleeves and left. At the door, he suddenly turned and said, “Li, come with me.”

“Yes,” Li Sanjian replied, following Huang Huan out of the hall.

…

“Professor Huang, what is this about?” Li Sanjian asked, unnerved by the way Huang Huan looked at him as if he were a monster.

Clearly, he thought, it would be best to keep such things hidden in the future. If he revealed everything he knew, people would treat him as a freak, perhaps even punish him severely…

“Did you truly receive guidance from a celestial being in your dreams?” Huang Huan asked again.

Li Sanjian nodded.

After staring at him for a while, Huang Huan slowly said, “This method is excellent. Could you write a detailed article on this annotation system?”

“By your command, Professor Huang, I shall obey,” Li Sanjian replied, bowing.

Huang Huan nodded, then suddenly asked, “Why do you study? Why seek education at the official school?”

Li Sanjian was taken aback. His purpose for studying and seeking learning was simple: to escape poverty, to give his mother, Fu Erniang, a better life, to earn respect for his family. He had resolved to pass the civil exams and enter government service—the only path he could see. But now, with Huang Huan’s sudden question, he truly did not know how to answer.

If he spoke plainly, would he be expelled?

“Student… student… wishes to pass the examinations, to pursue an official career…” Li Sanjian finally confessed under Huang Huan’s intense gaze.

“To attain rank and wealth—most people study for this reason, though few admit it, preferring to speak of serving the nation and people.” Huang Huan smiled, “You did not conceal your purpose; I am pleased. Why not attend a private academy, but instead come to the official school?”

Most scholars ultimately sought riches and honor, though they rarely voiced it, preferring lofty ideals. Li Sanjian’s honesty won him favor with Huang Huan.

“My master ordered me to study in Lingshan County,” Li Sanjian replied.

“Who is your master?” Huang Huan asked.

“My teacher is known as the Hermit of Eastern Slope, also called the Iron-Crowned Daoist,” Li Sanjian answered.

“What? The Hermit of Eastern Slope?” Huang Huan exclaimed in astonishment.

Even Su Shi’s fame could not warrant such a reaction, Li Sanjian thought, puzzled by Huang Huan’s surprise.