Chapter 93: Bamboo Slips

During the day, Sang Luo stayed around her own home and ventured into the mountains, but she only dared to wander near the village and no longer took long detours through the mountains near other villages as she used to.

She stayed at the Chen's house for three nights, and on the fourth day, Qin Fangniang brought a message from Xu, the shopkeeper.

The message said that the county office had searched the surrounding areas and inquired with villagers from various villages, finding no further sightings of refugees. He had also contacted the managers of several Dongfu Inns in neighboring counties, and they hadn't seen any refugees either. The ones they encountered that day likely crossed over the mountains through the blockade line, so a large influx of refugees was unlikely.

This news brought relief to the villagers.

Sang Luo's life returned to its usual pace. However, by this time, the sour dates were completely gone. She could only pick wild jujubes and dig konjac. Not daring to venture far and having been busy since her transmigration, she suddenly seemed to have some free time.

Fortunately, the past three months of hard work paid off. She had accumulated ten jars of sour date cake, with four hundred pieces still drying in the molds. This stock, if delivered two jars every four or five days to Yongfeng Inn, would last another month or so. Additionally, she dried over a hundred pieces in a bamboo winnowing basket for her family's snacks.

The large jar in the kitchen, used for storing dried konjac, was now full. The konjac slices were bagged and then stored in the jar. To make vegetarian tripe, she would just take out a few slices, grind them into a very fine powder with a stone mill, and process them directly into vegetarian tripe.

Konjac flour has a strong water-absorbing capacity; a couple of ounces of konjac flour can make nearly seven pounds of vegetarian tripe. This one jar, reserved solely for Dongfu Inn, was more than sufficient. Just looking at this large jar filled Sang Luo with a sense of security.

However, konjac could still be harvested for about ten more days. Seeing these tangible resources, Sang Luo didn't want to waste them. She decided against buying another large jar, as they were expensive. Remembering a traditional storage method from the countryside, she thought of using a wooden rack. She placed it not far from the stove, stacking the freshly dug konjac on a raised wooden rack and covering it with a straw mat for long-term storage.

Sang Luo herself constructed a simple bamboo rack near the stove, where she piled the newly dug konjac and covered it with a straw mat for storage.

But this meant the kitchen was now fully occupied, with no room to spare. It was already filled with tofu-making frames, boards, barrels, a stone mill, a tofu strainer rack, a large jar, two bamboo racks, and a long table, leaving barely enough space to move around.

After surveying the crowded space, Sang Luo decided to move the small dining table into the main house, along with her two children.

As November began, the villagers who had gone for labor service returned. Sang Luo went down the mountain to see them. Before they cleaned up, Chen Youtian and the others didn’t look much better than the refugees they saw that day, being extremely thin, dirty, and with hair like birds' nests.

The only noticeable difference from the refugees was their spirit and demeanor.

Now, Sang Luo even wondered if the people she encountered that day were actually innocent villagers who had been forced into hard labor and terribly mistreated.

With this, the shadow of the refugee crisis faded considerably from Sang Luo's mind, relaxing her entire being.

After another busy ten days, with the konjac and wild jujubes gone, Sang Luo’s days, aside from making tofu, soybean paste, and vegetarian tripe, and her bi-weekly trips to the county town, became entirely free. She finally remembered the writing materials she had bought.

She purchased these to create a primer for the two children. Previously, she taught them simple characters, names, and places. To continue their education, she needed to plan what to teach next.

The characters in this era differed from her previous life; some of the characters she knew might be considered incorrect here. She could only teach what the original body’s owner knew, which, being a woman, wasn’t very extensive. But it was sufficient for the children’s basic education, like the “Thousand Character Classic.”

This era also had the “Thousand Character Classic,” albeit with minor differences. The slight variations hinted at a mysterious connection and intersection between different times and spaces.

Having bought the ink and brush, Sang Luo planned to transcribe a primer for the children. Now, she only needed paper and an inkstone.

In the courtyard, a group of children were gathered around five sandpits. Shen An and Shen Ning, acting as little teachers, alternated between teaching and playing. Sang Luo watched them enjoy themselves and then headed to the part of the mountain with streams.

She needed to find a stone suitable for an inkstone.

Sang Luo was not particularly skilled in crafts like making an inkstone. However, since Qiyang County was mountainous with many rocky streams, finding a relatively flat stone with a slight depression for an inkstone wasn’t difficult. She chose the most beautiful one from several suitable stones she found in a few streams, washed it, and brought it home.

Recently, while making bamboo racks, they ended up with some excess bamboo. Sang Luo borrowed a curved knife and a plane from Chen Youtian, planning to make bamboo slips as a substitute for paper.

Chen Youtian was resting at home these days. When Sang Luo came to borrow tools and mentioned she was making bamboo slips for teaching the children to read, he immediately picked up the tools and joined her: “I’ll help you make them.”

Then, the group of children in the courtyard learned the exciting news that Shen An and Shen Ning would soon have their own books. Uncle Tian and Shen’s sister-in-law were making bamboo slips for writing.

Suddenly, the children found their usual games like teasing chickens, teasing ducks, and throwing stones far less interesting, gathering instead to watch the making of a book.

Chen Youtian, experienced in such crafts, selected the materials with precision, far surpassing Sang Luo’s knowledge. He chose the bamboo, cut it, boiled it, and dried it, even adding some Sichuan peppercorns during the boiling process – it was nearly a complete culinary procedure.

As Chen Youtian worked, he explained the process, and Sang Luo learned that without these steps, bamboo slips would be prone to cracking, warping, and insect damage.

Sang Luo did have Sichuan peppercorns at home. The two of them worked diligently, fascinating the onlooking children. But once they learned the bamboo needed to be boiled for an hour, their patience waned after a quarter of an hour, and all but Shen An, Shen Ning, and little Xiaoya ran off.

Cutting the bamboo strips, scraping them, drilling holes, and stringing them together, thirty-six bamboo slips took over two hours to make. Sang Luo gained a new appreciation for the difficulty of ancient writing.

Shen An and Shen Ning were thrilled just seeing the finished bamboo slips, even without any writing. Especially Shen An, who kept picking them up and examining them, unable to put them down.

Having completed his part, Chen Youtian left, leaving the rest to Sang Luo. She took the bamboo slips to the main house, setting them on a small table by the widely opened door for ample light. She then prepared her new, unused brush and the inkstone she found that morning, grinding the ink with water.

Shen An and Shen Ning witnessed writing with brush and ink for the first time, watching intently, barely daring to breathe.

Knowing the difficulty of obtaining these bamboo slips and that any mistakes would require scraping the ink off with a knife, Sang Luo treated the task with great care. This scroll was not only for the two children but also for other kids learning to write, serving as their only book and copy for practice.

Her own handwriting was decent, but only with a ballpoint pen. Growing up in an orphanage meant she never had the chance to learn extracurricular skills like calligraphy with a brush.

She relied on trying to recall the original body owner’s memories – memories of the brain and of muscle.

Hesitant to start directly on the bamboo slips, she dipped her brush in ink and practiced first on scrap bamboo until she felt confident.

With a thousand characters to write, it took her a long time. By the end, she realized her hand and neck were stiff.

She had been too tense.

Shen An, too, was so engrossed in watching Sang Luo’s brushstrokes that he forgot to relax. He stared at the brush tip, mesmerized by how the ink smoothly flowed, forming characters on the bamboo slips.

Filled with excitement at the prospect of having his own book and amazed by the beauty of ink on bamboo, Shen An couldn’t quite describe the feeling.

Shen Ning's admiration was straightforward and unabashed: "Big sister-in-law, you are so amazing!"

"To be able to write so many characters, and to write them so beautifully."

If Sang Luo could hear the little girl's thoughts, she would surely say that her handwriting wasn't really beautiful. After all, she was not the original body's owner. Even with the original's memories and muscle memory, plus her own experience with a ballpoint pen from her past life, she couldn't produce truly exquisite brushwork.

What isn’t inherently one’s own can never truly become one's own without long-term practice, how could perfection be attained so easily?

The original owner’s handwriting was not extraordinary, but it was neat and graceful. As for Sang Luo's, it was at best neat.

However, it was more than sufficient for a primer for the two children.

Looking at the completed bamboo slips, Sang Luo felt satisfied, “Let’s not touch them yet, wait until the ink is completely dry.”

The two children nodded repeatedly in agreement.

Shen An, unable to contain his curiosity, stood by the table and asked, “Big sister-in-law, can you teach me the characters on it now?”

Sang Luo smiled, “Of course, this is specifically transcribed for your literacy. It’s called the ‘Thousand Character Classic’. There are a thousand characters in total, with all but one being unique. Knowing these thousand characters covers most of the everyday vocabulary. I'll start by teaching you to recite it. Recite it several times a day, and once you've memorized it, you can use the bamboo slips to recognize and remember the corresponding characters.”

The siblings were overjoyed, promptly bringing chairs to sit down obediently, ready and waiting to be taught.

Sang Luo chuckled and started teaching the children to recite line by line. She would say a sentence, and the two children would follow, their voices carrying beyond the courtyard, softening even the cold wind.

Shen An had a great yearning for reading and writing and cherished this opportunity immensely. To make it easier for the children to remember, Sang Luo divided the Thousand Character Classic into several segments, teaching them bit by bit.

Shen An was diligent in learning and memorizing, often reciting even when engaged in other tasks. Whenever he couldn’t recall something, he would consult Shen Ning, who was learning alongside him. If she didn't know either, they would turn to Sang Luo for help.

……

In Shili Village, from an unknown day, children like Erniu, Huzi, Shitou, and Xiaoya began reciting something continuously, the words flowing smoothly and pleasantly, though most of the village elders couldn’t understand them.

But it sounded mystical, and the children seemed to be learning something profound.

Shen Jin also noticed this.

He wasn’t as focused on learning as others, but he envied the atmosphere; if everyone else could do it, why couldn’t he?

Gradually, he began to approach the foot of the mountain near the main house, where the children studied. There were so many children in the courtyard reading aloud, led by Shen An. Their voices were loud and unified, audible even at the base of the mountain.

After two days of eavesdropping, the three brothers were spotted by a goose patrolling the territory.

The goose recognized Chen Xiaoya and her usual group, but not Shen Jin and his two brothers. Strangers sneaking around - what else to do but charge, flapping its wings!

The goose was still far away, but Shen Tie screamed in fear and started crying.

His parents had been bitten by a goose, leaving them bedridden for two days, bleeding and bruised. Terrified of geese, Shen Tie didn’t even think to run, crying out for his second brother and sister!

Shen An, Shen Ning, and the others, hearing the commotion, ran out just in time to stop the goose from chasing Shen Jin and shooed it away.

The fact that the three brothers were eavesdropping at the foot of the mountain was exposed.

Shen Ning went to get a piece of sour date cake to comfort Shen Tie, who was still crying inconsolably, and led him into the courtyard.

Shen Jin: “…”

Chen Xiaoya, seeing him standing there motionless, approached and said, "Shen Jin, come on up, what are you afraid of? Your mother isn't at home, and your father doesn't care about you, right? He won’t know you came here."

Chen Xiaoya and the others thought Shen Jin stopped coming because he was afraid of being beaten by his parents. The whole village knew about the feud between Shen Jin’s parents and Shen An's family.

It’s true, Shen San returned with the other villagers after a month of labor service, completely exhausted and addled from fatigue!

Could he just work for a month and then leave? Of course not. Shen San thought that since he was penalized for one month, it was only fair that Li's family should take his place for a month.

Naturally, he couldn’t say it like that to Li's family. He claimed that the labor was too heavy for men and that women’s work, like boiling water and cooking, was lighter, suggesting he deserved a break.

Shen San, unable to go himself, left his wife Li to serve the labor term, who had promised to return after a month. So, it was Shen San, not Li, who was at home taking care of the children.

Chen Xiaoya, grabbing his hand, led him towards the small courtyard, “Come on, let's go. If we don’t talk about your dad, he won’t know.”

Chen Xiaoya wasn’t very strong, but she somehow managed to pull Shen Jin along.