CCWAD – Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Chapter 46 Let History Be Told by Future Generations

Foreword:

“She erected a wordless stele at the Imperial Academy, saying that merits and demerits would be judged by posterity. That night, we stood side by side before the stele, snowflakes falling on our shoulders: ‘We don’t seek eternal fame, only a clear conscience.'”

—

The first snow of the ninth year of the new dynasty arrived earlier than in previous years. It was barely past the winter solstice, yet fine snowflakes began to flutter down, dressing Bianliang city in a coat of silver. Within the newly established “Qingyun Garden” at the Imperial Academy, a white jade stele, about ten feet high, stood silently in the snow. Its surface was as smooth as a mirror, unmarked by any characters, save for a phoenix pattern with outstretched wings carved at its apex.

Yan Qing reached out and gently stroked the cold surface of the stele, her fingertips leaving faint water marks on the jade. This wordless stele was Li Shishi’s idea, meant to leave future generations to judge the merits and demerits of this era.

“Do you remember what Zuo Zhuan said: ‘The highest is to establish virtue, next is to establish merit, and next is to establish words.'”

Li Shishi’s voice came from behind her. She held a plain oil-paper umbrella, shielding Yan Qing from the falling snow. A thin layer of snow had already accumulated on the umbrella’s surface, making her face appear exceptionally clear and beautiful.

“Of these three establishments, which do you value most?” Yan Qing turned and asked, her exhaled breath misting in the cold air.

Li Shishi smiled slightly and caught a snowflake in her palm. “As for me, I value establishing words the most. Virtue changes with time, merit shifts with worldly affairs, but only words can traverse time and space to enlighten future generations.”

The snowflake melted slowly in her palm, turning into a crystal droplet. Yan Qing gazed at her focused profile and suddenly recalled the various resistances they had encountered three years ago when promoting the new policies for women. Those conservative ministers always cited ancient teachings, saying, “The ancestors’ laws must not be changed,” unaware that as times change, so too must the methods of governance.

“What are you thinking about?” Li Shishi asked softly.

“I’m thinking about the pained expressions of those old ministers three years ago when we implemented the women’s examinations,” Yan Qing’s lips curled into a wry smile. “They said we were undermining the nation’s foundation, quoting, ‘When a hen crows at dawn, it signals the ruin of the household.'”

Li Shishi shifted the umbrella further towards Yan Qing. “But what about now? Last year’s imperial examinations saw women taking up one-third of the seats. The female officials recommended from various regions this year can already fill a thick roster.”

She took out a beautifully bound roster from her sleeve. The pages were made of fine Xuan paper, still retaining their ink fragrance. Yan Qing gently flipped through the pages, each name representing a woman who had broken free from constraints:

“Lin Wanqing, Vice Minister of Rites, in charge of compiling the ‘Compendium of Women’s Medicine’;

Yang Bamei, Director of the Ministry of War, organizing the ‘Border Map’;

Zhao Qingyun, Vice Minister of Works, author of ‘Study of Southern Water Conservancy’;

…”

Behind these names were vibrant lives. Some hailed from noble families, others from humble backgrounds, but all had found their place in this new era.

“Sometimes, when it’s quiet late at night, I wonder,” Yan Qing looked up at the gray sky, “if we had retreated back then, what would today be like? Would those women still be confined to their chambers, unable to display their talents their entire lives?”

“There are no ‘ifs’,” Li Shishi’s tone was as firm as iron. “Since we chose this path, we can only walk it without hesitation. Remember what Mencius said: ‘If, upon self-examination, one finds oneself in the wrong, though the people are common and humble, I will not fear them. If, upon self-examination, one finds oneself in the right, though there be a thousand men, I will go forward.'”

The snow fell heavier, and the wordless stele gradually became cloaked in silver. Li Shishi suddenly took off her peacock feather cloak and carefully draped it over Yan Qing’s shoulders. The cloak was lined with soft sable fur and still carried her warmth.

“You’re always like this,” her movements were as gentle as if she were handling something fragile. “You toil for the nation’s affairs but don’t know how to take care of yourself.”

Yan Qing clasped her still-extended hand and said softly, “With you by my side, I can forge ahead with peace of mind.”

She spoke these words very softly, yet they caused gentle ripples in Li Shishi’s eyes.

“Let’s go,” Li Shishi interlaced her fingers with Yan Qing’s. “I’ll take you somewhere to see the results of these past few years.”

The newly built library at the Imperial Academy had three stories, with upturned eaves and majestic architecture. At this moment, the pavilion was brightly lit by candles, as if it were daytime. In the most prominent positions, the collected works of women from these years were neatly arranged. Besides political essays, there were collections of poetry, medical texts, agricultural treatises, and even a “Records of Customs and Products of the Nine Provinces” co-authored by several women.

“Three years ago, this place was empty,” Li Shishi’s fingers gently brushed over the spines of the books, as if caressing a child’s cheek. “Now, it’s almost full. A while ago, the Vice Minister came to request the construction of an annex.”

Yan Qing paused before a volume of “Study of Southern Water Conservancy.” It was Zhao Qingyun’s work, detailing not only schemes for managing the southern water systems but also accompanied by exquisite maps. Even more commendable was its special mention of how to protect women and children during floods.

“Qingyun wrote to me last month,” Li Shishi said with a smile. “She said she wants to establish a women’s academy by Taihu Lake, specializing in teaching hydraulic engineering.”

“She’s even more eager than us,” Yan Qing also smiled, fine lines appearing at the corners of her eyes.

“This is what a prosperous era should look like,” Li Shishi’s gaze swept over the shelves of books, her tone filled with relief. “Everyone has the opportunity to display their talents, regardless of background or gender.”

The sound of snow outside gradually subsided, replaced by the chanting of students. Over the years, the Imperial Academy had expanded threefold, with women comprising half of the student body. Every night, the library remained brightly lit until curfew. The diligent figures of those studying hard had become the most beautiful scenery of the Imperial Academy.

“Sometimes, late at night, I pass by here,” Yan Qing looked at the focused profiles within the windows, “and I always remember myself back then. In Liangshan, I had to hide even my reading, for fear of being discovered.”

Li Shishi gently squeezed her hand, her palm warm. “It’s all in the past. Now, you can be yourself openly.”

Yes, it was all in the past. Those difficult years, those doubtful gazes, had all transformed into the driving force for progress. Yan Qing recalled a line from Zhuangzi: “Morning mushrooms know not the dark and the light, cicadas know not the spring and autumn.” How could those who clung to the old ways understand this era of profound change?

The two walked out of the library side by side. The snow had stopped. Moonlight spread across the snow, casting a brilliant glow. The wordless stele stood silently under the moonlight, the snow on its surface glinting with fine light, as if sprinkled with silver powder.

“Shall we inscribe something on it?” Li Shishi suddenly asked. “For example, ‘ushering in eternal peace’?”

Yan Qing shook her head and chuckled. “Since it’s a wordless stele, let it remain so. Merits and demerits will be judged by posterity; we only seek a clear conscience.”

She approached the stone stele and brushed away the accumulated snow from its top. The cold sensation transmitted from her fingertips reminded her of the resistance encountered when promoting new policies over the years. Each reform felt like forging ahead through ice and snow, but they had eventually reached this day.

Li Shishi stood beside her. The moonlight cast their shadows on the snow-covered ground, intertwined closely, inseparable.

“Do you remember our first meeting?” Li Shishi suddenly asked, her voice as soft as if she were reciting poetry.

“At Fan Lou,” Yan Qing’s eyes held a warm smile. “You saw through my disguise at a glance, yet you still chose to help me.”

“I didn’t see through it,” Li Shishi corrected, reaching out to smooth the hair that the wind had disheveled. “I saw. I saw you trapped in a male identity, I saw your struggle and your persistence.”

The air after the snow was exceptionally fresh, carrying the cold fragrance of plum blossoms. Yan Qing took a deep breath and suddenly felt that the hardships of these years were all worthwhile. She recalled a line from the Book of Songs: “Those who know me say my heart is full of sorrow; those who don’t know me ask what I seek.” To have one soulmate is enough for a lifetime.

“Let’s go back,” Li Shishi tied the straps of her cloak, her movements practiced and natural. “There’s an early court session tomorrow, and I heard the matter of border trade needs further discussion.”

The two walked back along the path, leaving two parallel rows of footprints in the snow. As they reached the palace gate, Yan Qing suddenly turned back, casting a final glance at the wordless stele.

The stele glowed with a gentle light under the moonlight, as if telling something, or perhaps waiting for something. This wordless stone stele would witness the changes of this era and also everything they had sacrificed for it.

“What are you thinking about?” Li Shishi asked softly, reaching out to brush the snow from her shoulder.

Yan Qing withdrew her gaze and looked at the still-lit lamps in the direction of the Imperial Academy. “I’m thinking, a thousand years from now, when posterity stands before this stele, how will they judge our era? Will they understand our choices? Will they comprehend why we pushed for new policies under such immense pressure?”

Li Shishi smiled, her laughter particularly clear in the silent, snowy night. “Why think so far ahead? As long as we have a clear conscience, it is enough. Doesn’t the Analects say: ‘It is not the man who does not know me, but I who do not know the man.'”

The palace gate slowly closed behind them, leaving the wordless stele in the cold night. But the lights of the library still burned, and those diligent figures continued to contribute to this era. The wheel of history, propelled by them, was slowly moving forward.

That night, the snow fell silently, yet it bore witness to the transformation of an era.

—

(End of Chapter 46)