Chapter 20: Teacher and Student
Fang Jian's position was set as an Investigating Censor of the junior sixth rank in the Censorate. Cui Miao's results were also quite good; she placed tenth in the second class and entered the Office of Transmission as a Registrar of the junior seventh rank.
Fang Jian went to the Ministry of Personnel to receive her letter of appointment. Upon her return, she came to report to Gao Yunqu.
“The Censorate? Very good, very good.” Gao Yunqu listened to her report, thought for a moment, and said, “You’ve been with me for so long, you should be familiar with the Censorate. Build up a few years of seniority there, then seek an external posting. When you return, you can enter one of the Six Ministries.”
On a rest day, Gao Yunqu found herself with some free time and summoned Fang Jian to play chess. They set up the board in the courtyard outside the study, basking in the warm spring sun.
As she placed a stone on the board, Gao Yunqu said, “Censors should be the most upright people in the court. They are loyal to their country, loyal to the law, and loyal to justice. Thus, they may seem rigid, but they are the ones most capable of holding the line. If Her Majesty acts willfully, a censor can admonish her. If a chancellor acts arbitrarily, a censor can impeach them. All injustices in the world, a censor can investigate.”
Fang Jian listened attentively but still had a doubt. “But officials like Remonstrance Aides and Palace Censors are just minor officials in cyan robes. With low rank and little influence, what can they truly accomplish?”
“Do not judge importance by rank. Everyone at court should only attend to the duties of their own office. Only the chancellors of the Council of State and the officials of the Censorate must concern themselves with matters beyond their direct purview—all affairs of the realm converge in the Council of State to be decided by the chancellors, and all affairs of the realm also fall within the Censorate’s scope of supervision. One might even say their rank is low precisely because their authority is so great.” As Gao Yunqu spoke, she felt as if she had said these words to someone before. She thought for a moment and recalled Zhou Hui. Two years ago, Zhou Hui had secured a vacancy and was posted to the provinces as an Assistant Prefect. She wondered how she was faring now.
Fang Jian saw that she seemed lost in thought and waited until she returned to the present before asking, “You seem to hold speaking officials in high regard?”
“I served as an Investigating Censor in my early years, and after returning from mourning leave, I was in the Censorate again. I suppose I have an affinity with speaking officials.” Gao Yunqu thought of her youth, smiled, and continued placing stones. “And it is precisely because I have served in that capacity that I know the importance of the speaking officials. Her Majesty wants them to act according to her will; Cai, Lu, and their ilk want the censorial path to address only what they wish to discuss; and fame-seekers like Han Zhongsi hope to use remonstrance to build their reputations. But none of these are what the Censorate should be.”
“Then what should it be like?”
“Not fawning, not fearing power, not coveting fame, not compromising. Upholding righteous spirit and a public heart, with a conscience clear before heaven and earth. That is all that is required.”
“Then how should I act?”
“Haha, you’ve seen the register of duties I established for the officials of all ranks in the Censorate, haven’t you? You need only be scrupulous in your duties, and in all matters, act according to the law and according to public justice.
“To be a censor, one need not have grand talent or strategic vision, but one must have an upright and steadfast heart, one that cannot be swayed by any external influence.”
Throughout this game of chess, Gao Yunqu explained her understanding of speaking officials to Fang Jian in detail. Fang Jian listened to every word and acknowledged every point.
“You’ve lost again.” The game ended. Fang Jian had lost by four points. In her youth, she had buried her head in arduous study; she only began to learn the four arts of the scholar—zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting—after coming to Gao Yunqu’s side, and she was by no means an expert in the way of Go.
“I am naturally no match for Teacher,” Fang Jian said as she cleared the stones from the board.
After that day, Gao Yunqu formalized their teacher-student relationship. From then on, when at home, Fang Jian addressed her as Teacher. Gao Yunqu also shared her concerns, telling her not to publicize the arrangement. Harboring some small, secret thoughts of her own, Fang Jian hesitated for a moment before agreeing.
Gao Yunqu watched her clear the chessboard and suddenly asked, “You’ve received your official robes, haven’t you?”
Fang Jian looked up, perplexed. “I have.”
“Go put them on and let me see.”
“…Alright.”
When Fang Jian returned in her official robes, Gao Yunqu was standing by the study window, gazing at the spring scenery in the courtyard and toying with the jade pendant at her waist.
“Teacher.” Fang Jian stood behind her and spoke to announce her presence.
Gao Yunqu turned, gave her a deep look, and set down the jade pendant. She raised her hands to straighten Fang Jian’s official hat, dust off her sleeves, and adjust her leather belt. Dressed in the green official robes, Fang Jian was like a straight, small tree that had struggled to sprout from the mud, pushed its way up from among unremarkable weeds, bathed in sunlight and weathered storms, and finally grown tall and indomitable.
“You’ve grown up.” Gao Yunqu’s voice was filled with an incredibly complex mix of feelings—relief, happiness, sentimentality, and a touch of reluctance. She walked behind the desk and pushed two boxes on it toward Fang Jian. “A gift from your teacher.”
Standing on the other side of the desk, Fang Jian curiously opened the first box. Inside was a property deed and several indenture contracts, the one on top being Xiuzhu’s. Fang Jian looked up at Gao Yunqu in confusion.
“A small residence. From now on, you’ll be a court official addressed as Lord Fang. It’s not appropriate for you to always stay here with me, and you’ll need a place to entertain your colleagues. I’m also giving Xiuzhu to you to serve as your chief steward,” Gao Yunqu explained.
Fang Jian pressed her lips together, unsure if she felt happy or nervous. She began, “Teacher…”
Gao Yunqu raised a hand to stop her, gesturing for her to look at the other box.
So Fang Jian opened the other wooden box. Inside was the indenture contract she herself had written five years ago. The handwriting still had a touch of immaturity, as different as clouds and mud from her script today, yet every character was seared into her very flesh and bone. Fang Jian held the contract and looked up at Gao Yunqu, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Words caught in her throat, and for a moment, she could not speak.
Gao Yunqu looked into her eyes and uttered the words she had long held back: “Fang Jian, I am returning your freedom to you.”
Tears welled in Fang Jian’s eyes. After a long moment, she asked in a trembling voice, “Does Teacher not want me anymore?”
Gao Yunqu closed her eyes. Only a moment passed before she opened them again, her gaze incomparably resolute. She said, “A’jian, what do you call me?”
“…Teacher?”
“Then a teacher and student should act as a teacher and student should,” Gao Yunqu said coldly.
Gao Yunqu’s words were like a blade striking her head-on, cleaving Fang Jian’s soul in two and making her heart ache as if it were being wrung out. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and fought to keep the tears from falling.
“A’jian, this is for your own good. You know that.” Gao Yunqu’s heart ached for her. She was not unaware of Fang Jian’s attachment to her, and in the past, she had enjoyed Fang Jian’s affection and trust with a clear conscience. But Fang Jian had a long road ahead of her and shouldn’t be constrained here by her. “Think it over carefully.”
She rose, intending to leave the study, but Fang Jian called out to stop her.
“Teacher.” Fang Jian’s eyes were crimson but no longer tearful. Her voice was a little hoarse and shaky, yet it carried an unswerving resolve. “I understand. I will do as you say.”
“That is good.” Gao Yunqu halted and looked at her.
“I will be a proper student to you,” Fang Jian said, refolding the indenture contract, placing it back in its box, and pushing it back toward Gao Yunqu. “But this… I hope you will keep it for me.”
“Why?”
“I trust that you would never use it against me. That being the case, there is no difference between you keeping it and me keeping it.” Fang Jian looked at Gao Yunqu, her eyes filled with a hint of pleading. “Please just consider it… a memento.”
Gao Yunqu had intended to refuse, but upon seeing the pleading in her eyes, the words that came out of her mouth changed for some reason. “Alright.”
Fang Jian breathed a sigh of relief. She took a few steps back, lifted the hem of her robe, and knelt straight down. She prostrated herself, pressing her forehead to the study’s floor tiles, just as she had all those years ago.
“Jian thanks you, My Lord, for your many years of instruction.”
The tears finally rolled down, striking the floor tiles one by one, slowly spreading and merging into a small, dark patch.
Across the long expanse of time, two figures overlapped, blurring Gao Yunqu’s vision. She watched Fang Jian kneeling there, finally sighed, and walked over. She bent down, placed a hand on her shoulder, and patted it firmly before walking out of the study.
The door closed, leaving Fang Jian to kneel there alone, bidding farewell to the young, fragile, and callow self of her past.
Author's Notes
Only after it ends can it begin anew.
Lord Gao: I’ve released the bird I raised. How melancholic.
Tsk, when you were pinning her on the bed for some teacher-student play, why didn’t you say then that a teacher and student should act as they should?
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