LFHYB -Chapter 11 The Endless Battle Against the Copyist

By the time Lady Dou and the other women arrived, the second round of the competition had already begun.

Li Shimin and Li Xuanba pretended to ask the Zheng family’s Da Lang, Er Lang, San Lang, and Si Lang if they wanted to swap offense and defense.

The four young men, all having studied under renowned teachers, flushed with anger.

The challenge hadn’t even concluded—how could they swap roles? Wasn’t this what storytellers called “letting you have three moves first”?

The four Zheng brothers were over ten years older than Li Shimin and Li Xuanba, and Da Lang was already crowned. Being forced to “let two six-year-old children have three moves” was embarrassing beyond words.

Zheng Dalang said firmly that there was no need, then took the Book of Changes, ready to face the two mischievous children.

In noble families, following Eastern Han traditions, a main text would be chosen for study—called a shichuan or family transmission. The four Zheng brothers had all focused on the Book of Changes.

When Dalang heard the rules of offense and defense, he realized these two six-year-olds were only using the rules to bully others.

His younger brothers could memorize texts and poetry easily. But these two children hadn’t explained the rules upfront. Once the competition began, they required memorization of not just chapters or passages, but the entire book in sequence.

Clearly, these mischievous children had prepared, memorizing a whole book in advance just to make things difficult.

Apparently, when the four elder Zheng brothers arrived to help, the one requesting aid hadn’t explained this clearly.

The Book of Changes has a strong internal continuity. Unlike the younger Zheng brothers, who relied on understanding rather than rote memorization, these four could easily recall the context.

Naturally, the first to step forward was Zheng Silang.

At his age, Silang was already capable of intimidating others. If the crowned Dalang were forced to enter, even if the Zheng family won, it would still be embarrassing.

Though frankly, their faces were already quite grim.

After several rounds of back-and-forth, Li Shimin and Li Xuanba exchanged a glance, and Xuanba smiled, changing books.

Zheng Silang raised an eyebrow: “Not asking the Book of Changes?”

Li Shimin grinned mischievously: “We didn’t start with the Book of Changes. We’ve already switched several books. Eldest brother has probably memorized it all—no point in continuing. A-Xuan, let’s force him to switch books!”

Xuanba stifled a laugh: “Alright. Brother, ‘Initial Nine, Hidden Dragon, do not act,’ recite it all in one go.”

Li Shimin clasped his hands behind his back, swaying as he began reciting.

The Book of Changes contains 6,700 characters. Reciting it in one go takes nearly half an hour.

The onlookers waited—half an hour for Li Shimin!

During this time, even Elder Lady Cui didn’t think to have servants bring seating for them to rest.

Xuanba leisurely turned the pages, only giving his younger brother a hint at the beginning of each passage.

Li Shimin’s memory was already remarkable. While not quite photographic, reading a passage a few times allowed him to remember most of it.

Before coming to the Zheng family, the two of them had already learned that the current generation of the Zhengs primarily studied the I Ching.

Their preparation wasn’t just a thorough reading of the Four Books and Five Classics to make “cheating” easier—they had also memorized the I Ching.

Li Shimin and Li Xuanba hadn’t come to the Zheng house to embarrass anyone.

If the Zhengs were polite, discussing the I Ching or other Confucian classics with Li Shimin and Li Xuanba, they would have treated them with proper courtesy.

But from the detour at the start to the cold glances from the Zheng heirs when Lady Dou presented the Buddhist amulet, their patience had been tested.

They could bear it up to this point, but once they reached the pavilion, their tolerance ran out.

The Zheng heirs hadn’t even introduced themselves and had started playing among themselves, leaving only Zheng Wulang and Zheng Shierlang to test them in turn.

No matter which noble household Li Shimin and Li Xuanba had visited in the capital, they had never been treated so dismissively.

Even in ordinary families, wouldn’t hosts introduce themselves and receive their guests properly?

Yet what were the Zheng boys doing? The fruits in the pavilion hadn’t even been served to the guests, and they were already grabbing and eating them themselves.

Even Li Xuanba, who had read countless historical records of proud aristocratic children, felt a small flame of irritation rising in his chest.

Technically, this contest could have ended after a few of the Zheng boys lost, allowing everyone to shake hands and make peace.

But the Zheng boys clearly had stubborn tempers—they insisted on a “war of attrition” and even improvised a new rule.

Their rule was that each of the dozen or so boys picked different books, so when Li Shimin and Li Xuanba faced them, they couldn’t repeat books either.

A dozen against two, starting small and moving to larger books—Li Shimin’s throat was hoarse.

After Li Shimin finished the last line, Li Xuanba handed him a cup of water. Li Shimin gulped it down and, his voice hoarse, said, “Continue!”

“What are you doing?!” Lady Dou’s eyes reddened. “Do a dozen people have to bully my Erlang and Sanlang, who are not even seven?!”

The Zheng boys froze.

Only then did the dozen or so Zheng heirs seem to realize that their opponents were just two children, both under seven, and felt slightly embarrassed.

But their embarrassment was overshadowed by anger and shame.

Because they were the ones losing! They were the ones humiliated! How could it look like they were being the victims?!

“Madam, you must be joking. This is just brothers playing. A literary contest among scholars isn’t bullying,” said Zheng Dalang, unable to hold back his anger.

What’s with these two brothers? Forcing us to swap books? Just because they memorized the I Ching, they think they can win?

Now, it was Li Erlang and Li Sanlang trampling the faces of all their peers. If they didn’t win, wouldn’t all the Zheng peers become stepping stones for these two boys to make a name for themselves?!

“Why don’t you, Madam, take the Lady of the Duke to enjoy the flowers and the lake?” Zheng Dalang said firmly. “I will host here. A lady shouldn’t stay long in a house of men.”

Lady Dou was taken aback at his audacity.

Even more surprisingly, Elder Madam Cui, prompted by Zheng Dalang, took her hand and said, “Dalang is right. They’re scholars enjoying a literary contest at its peak—we should go elsewhere.”

Lady Dou looked at Zheng Dalang in confusion, then at the ladies in the Zheng household who were timid before him.

These women were elders, yet they were so deferential to a newly crowned young man.

Was Zheng Dalang really that outstanding?

Even so, it didn’t seem right.

Lady Dou began to vaguely realize that the Zheng family’s household rules might not be as proper or admirable as she had imagined.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Erlang, Sanlang, Mother is tired. Let’s go home.”

Even if her husband scolded her, she couldn’t let the children continue to be bullied—the Erlang’s voice was already hoarse!

Li Shimin stubbornly shook his head. “Mother, we’re just at the fun part. Let’s keep going, cough… cough…”

He rubbed his throat—it hurt.

Zheng Dalang quickly sensed something off.

Li Erlang’s voice was hoarse, so why was Li Sanlang still letting him recite, standing by idly?

Could it be that only Li Erlang had an extraordinary memory? Or did Li Erlang and Li Sanlang have some way to cheat, but only Li Sanlang could recite?

Zheng Dalang recalled street performers who could do “double-voice” tricks, ventriloquism, or even guess pictures hidden in their partner’s hands.

Those performers weren’t truly talented—they had just trained signals in advance.

Zheng Dalang asked, “Li Erlang, since your voice is hoarse, why not swap with Li Sanlang?”

Li Shimin frowned. “What do you mean by that? You can’t win, so you want to trouble my brother?”

His brother A-Xuan truly had a photographic memory, but reciting so much was extremely exhausting. If A-Xuan weren’t physically weak, he wouldn’t need Li Shimin to be the one responding aloud.

Seeing Li Shimin react so strongly, Zheng Dalang thought he had succeeded.

But to prevent underestimating the boys’ memory, he added, “Memorizing texts for so long is not true learning. Why not try composing a few poems? That’s more elegant for a literary contest.”

Upon hearing this, Zheng Silang, still irritated that Li Shimin had just recited the entire I Ching, immediately supported the idea: “Just memorizing words—what skill is that?”

Some of the Zheng heirs, previously suppressed, couldn’t bear it and agreed: “Exactly, exactly.”

But a few still thought differently.

Even if rote memorization wasn’t remarkable, they lost at rote memorization. A dozen boys had taken turns in a “war of attrition” and had hoarse the opponent’s voice.

Yet with hierarchy and seniority, Zheng Dalang spoke on their behalf, and the others could only glance at each other awkwardly, silently shrinking back.

Only Zheng Xuanyi quietly slipped away from the crowd, crouching and using the crabapple trees as cover to find his father and bring reinforcements.

He still remembered that the Zheng family was supposed to form a marital alliance with the Duke of Tang’s household, not make enemies!

“Merely memorizing texts isn’t really a skill, but your younger brothers lost to my Eralng and Sanlang. Doesn’t that mean they are even less capable?” Lady Dou approached Li Erlang and Li Sanlang, tenderly touched Li Erlang’s face, and mocked, “You, already of age, are competing in poetry with two children under seven. Win or lose, isn’t it disgraceful?”

Zheng Dalang frowned, displeased at Lady Dou’s words.

This was the first time someone had interrupted him mid-sentence. If it had been a family member, he would have scoffed immediately. But since his family was forming a marital alliance with the Duke of Tang’s household, he couldn’t offend their womenfolk.

Still, he decided he would report this to his elders. The rules of the Duke of Tang’s household were really troublesome—a woman appearing in front of male outsiders without any modesty on her face. Even after he politely asked her to leave, she refused.

A young lady from his family marrying into such a household—truly pitiable.

“I will not argue with a woman,” Zheng Dalang said coldly. “Li Sanlang, if you are truly filial and friendly, you should defend your elder brother in this literary contest. Or is it that only the elder of you brothers has any ability?”

Li Xuanba sighed, about to respond, but was stopped by Li Shimin behind him.

Li Shimin sneered, “You and a dozen others are challenging just the two of us. We called for a pause multiple times, but you refused. My body is strong, yet even I’m struggling; Xuanba is weak—aren’t you basically forcing him to faint from exhaustion? And you, a grown adult, forcing a child just starting school—you feel justified?”

Zheng Dalang was unmoved by Li Shimin’s “twisted logic” and calmly said, “My younger brothers’ jade pendants are still in your hands. You insulted the Zheng family first, and now you’re using their youth as an excuse?”

Li Shimin replied, “Insulted first? Who brought Xuanba and me here for evaluation? Who said ‘let’s compare’ before introductions were even made? Who sent a dozen people to keep challenging just the two of us, while we even fetched our own water? Who, when the younger lost, brought in the elder, including a fully grown adult?”

“Here’s an idea—let today’s events be spread around. Let people judge who is unreasonable: the Duke of Tang’s household, or your Zheng family of Xingyang?” Li Xuanba, hearing his elder brother’s words, also grew a bit fiery. “Lost in memorization? Now it’s switched to poetry? Isn’t that embarrassing? Fine, I’ll compete.”

Li Shimin turned to look.

Li Xuanba said: **[Second Brother, trust me. You forget I can see events of the future? I cannot compose poetry, but I can recite the poems of others.]**

Li Shimin’s anger calmed. He first gave Xuanba a thumbs-up, then patted him on the shoulder.

Li Xuanba stepped forward; Li Shimin stepped back.

Their bodies crossed paths.

Li Xuanba glanced at Zheng Dalang: “You point to any object, and I will make a poem within ten steps. You point to any object, and you must make a poem within ten steps. Once we finish, both sides will stand down. Brother Zheng, does that suit you?”

Zheng Dalang frowned: “You really have confidence?”

Li Xuanba sneered: “You suggested it. What, you’ve lost confidence?”

Lady Dou clenched her palms, forcing herself to resist the impulse to take the children and leave.

If Sanlang dares to compete, she would trust him!

Zheng Dalang snorted and casually pointed to a white goose in the lake.

Li Xuanba smiled. How convenient!

He pretended to ponder as he moved forward.

One step, two steps, three steps… five steps!

“Goose, goose, goose, singing toward the sky with a curved neck. White feathers float on green water, red webbed feet stir the clear waves.”

**[Brother, this was composed by a prodigy named Luo Binwang at age seven. I think he is about thirty years younger than us.]**

Li Shimin’s eyes lit up.

This poem is interesting! Thirty years younger? Later, he would go with Xuanba to see what this prodigy looks like!

After Li Xuanba recited, everyone fell silent.

Lady Dou’s anxious expression melted into a gentle, spring-like smile.

Li Xuanba turned and tilted his head: “I chose ‘Ode to the Goose’ as the topic for Brother Zheng as well. Brother Zheng, please.”

The young Zheng brothers looked to their eldest.

Even if their poetry skills were undeveloped, they could tell good poetry from bad.

Could their eldest really handle this?

Zheng Dalang’s face flushed red. Of course he could compose on “Ode to the Goose,” but without prior preparation, he could not create better verses spontaneously.

Though he could bluff and claim victory, if the Duke of Tang’s household spread both poems, his reputation would be ruined.

As he pondered an exit strategy, Li Xuanba laughed: “It seems Brother Zheng thinks I quickly recited a fine poem that might have been written by an elder and I just memorized it. Second Brother, point to something freely, and I’ll try again.”

Li Shimin quickly stepped beside Li Xuanba: “Go!”

Li Xuanba: **[Point to the crabapple flowers.]**

Li Shimin pointed to a crabapple tree: “Xuanba, recite about the red crabapple flowers!”

Li Xuanba, in full view of everyone, marched his short legs.

One step, two steps, three steps… five steps.

“Flowers bloom across the tree in red, petals fall and branches are bare. Only one remains, tomorrow it shall ride the wind.”

Zheng Dalang’s face changed drastically; his hands clenched.

Lady Dou covered her mouth with a handkerchief, struggling to suppress laughter.

Li Xuanba: **[Late Tang poet Chen Zhixuan composed this at five years old. At that time, Second Brother, your descendants were nearly lost.]**

Li Shimin was initially excited, then full of grievance.

What do you mean “my descendants were nearly lost”? Late Tang? Xuanba, don’t speak nonsense! Brother is scared!

Better not think about it, forget it quickly!

Li Xuanba again tilted his head to Zheng Dalang: “What, still don’t believe? Again!”

Li Shimin straightened his chest, ready to obey orders.

Li Xuanba: **[Take a coin, preferably a broken one.]**

Li Shimin frowned. Where am I supposed to find you a scrap of copper… huh? There actually is one!

By sheer coincidence, near the pavilion, beside the giant stone on which he had inscribed characters, Li Shimin saw half a copper coin peeking out from the mud.

He climbed out of the pavilion, picked up a fallen branch of a begonia, and used it to dig out the half coin.

“A-Xuan! Here’s a worn Kaihuang copper coin. Can you compose a poem about it?” Li Shimin asked, brimming with pride. Look at my luck!

Zheng Dalang gritted his teeth. “No need, I…”

“I would also like to hear whether my capable nephew can compose another fine piece,” a middle-aged male voice sounded from behind the crowd.

Li Xuanba didn’t look at the person, snorted, and said:

“Half a sun hides the study’s dust,
Vaguely recalling the Kaihuang’s tour.
Longing to see the unbroken pure light,
Buying up the injustices of the world!”

“Now, are you satisfied?!”

All was silent; only the wind rustled the begonia blossoms, red petals falling softly.