With the arrival of summer, the cicadas' chirping becomes like a dull saw, tearing recklessly through the lush cypress branches of the Imperial College, producing a sharp, cacophony that stings the eardrums. The sun, like a blazing golden veil, pours unreservedly upon this ancient institution. I, dressed in a plain silk dress and clutching a newly published copy of "Jin Xiu Yuan," stroll towards the academy. My sleeves, however, are wrinkled from the young marquis's tight grip.
The young marquis, carrying a gilded wooden sword taller than he was, half a piece of osmanthus cake stuffed in his mouth, his cheeks puffed out, his appearance adorable and innocent. The gold and jade belt buckle around his waist shone in the blazing sun, reflecting a shimmering, fragmented light like countless tiny stars. "Sister," he mumbled, the cake crumbs falling from his mouth as he spoke, "The servant said the old pedants were scolding your book in the classroom again, calling it 'hens crowing at dawn!'"
"It's just some clichéd talk," I sighed softly, shielding myself from the scorching wind with my fan. The shadows of the trees on the bluestone pavement beneath my feet were shattered by our footsteps, adding a touch of chaos to the scorching summer heat. Passing the academy's tall screen wall, I caught a glimpse of the crowd behind it. Looking closely, I saw Liu Yuru standing on the steps, waving my storybook with an excited look. Her pearl headband was soaked with sweat, its former luster dimmed a bit.
"A woman's virtue lies in her lack of talent!" She shouted at the top of her voice, pointing the silk handkerchief in her hand at the cover of the storybook. "The women described by Su Jinli are out in public, doing business and solving cases. They are clearly misleading people and corrupting morals!" The voice was sharp and piercing, like the cry of a night owl, echoing in the hot air.
"Bullshit!" Upon hearing this, the young marquis's eyes bulged with rage. He violently shook off my hand, and the wooden sword in his hand stabbed into the ground with a clang. The red silk on the tassel of the sword was like a burning flame, sweeping away the onlookers and making them retreat one after another. He stood at the bottom of the steps with his hands on his hips, looking aggressive. The python pattern embroidered on his brocade robe seemed to come alive in the sunlight, floating nimbly. "The heroines written by my sister can earn money to support themselves. Can those sour poems you write even buy half a pancake?" The young marquis' voice was as loud as a bell, full of disdain and anger towards Liu Yuru.
Liu Yuru's face flushed crimson, like a flaming fireball. The pearls and jadeite in her hair trembled violently, like leaves trembling in the autumn wind, revealing her inner panic and anger. "What do you, a child, know?" she screamed back, her voice shrill and twisted with anger.
"I know my sister's writing better than yours!" The young marquis, undeterred, bounded up a step, the tip of his wooden sword pointed directly at Liu Yuru's nose, as if ready to challenge her. "The heroines in her books run embroidery workshops and solve strange cases, unlike some who hide in seclusion and gossip!" The young marquis's words were sharp, each word like a razor blade, piercing Liu Yuru's vitals.
The crowd erupted in laughter, rising and falling like waves. Leading the group, Wang Bianxiu, leaned on a jujube wood cane and slowly and unsteadily advanced. His goatee quivered with anger, like a ball of tangled hemp in the wind. "How dare you, a brat, make such a commotion!" he shouted, his eyes wide with anger. "Women should study the 'Instructions for Women' and master needlework. Exercising with prose is unacceptable!" Wang Bianxiu's voice carried undeniable authority, attempting to subdue the young marquis.
I quickly reached out to stop my brother from charging forward, then stepped forward, bowing slightly. A polite smile graced my face, the round fan in my hand perfectly masking the sneer at the corner of my mouth. "Old sir, do you understand that 'knowledge of the world is learning, and understanding of human nature is writing'?" I raised my head, looking calmly at Editor Wang, my words calm but firm. "What's the difference between a woman who studies and understands things and a man?"
"How dare you!" Editor Wang trembled with rage, pounding his cane against the stone slab with a resounding, dull thud, as if accusing me of his anger. "These are the teachings of the sages. How can you misinterpret them?" His eyes widened, filled with dissatisfaction and accusation.
"If reading is just for the sake of showing off one's knowledge," I calmly opened the chapter in the storybook about a girl opening an academy, and held it high in front of everyone so that everyone could see it clearly, "then isn't it a hundred times better for the heroine in the book to open a girls' school and teach them literacy and arithmetic than being trapped in the backyard and relying on others for food?" I glanced at the people around me, hoping to arouse their inner resonance.
"Well said!" A sudden cheer rang out from the crowd. Jiang Yan pushed aside the others and walked forward calmly. He wore a blue cloth scholar's scarf on his head, looking elegant and extraordinary. The bamboo flute at his waist was replaced by a brocade fan, on the fan was the sugar dragon I had casually drawn, so lifelike that it seemed as if it was about to jump out of the fan. He winked at me with encouragement and appreciation in his eyes, and then when he turned to Editor Wang, his expression suddenly became solemn. "Editor Wang, in the past, Ban Zhao continued the "Book of Han" and Cai Wenji wrote "Poem of Grief and Anger", both of which are models of female talent and learning. Today, Miss Su is using vernacular novels to enlighten the people. How can such talent be called 'hens crowing at dawn'?" Jiang Yan spoke sincerely, citing classics, trying to convince Editor Wang.
When Liu Yuru saw Jiang Yan speaking up for her, her face instantly turned from red to white, like a flower struck by frost. Her fingertips dug deep into the cover of the storybook in anger, as if she were trying to tear it apart. "Jiang Zhuangyuan! As an official appointed by the court, how can you condone the nonsense of a woman?" she demanded, her voice tinged with resentment and unwillingness.
"Not only do I open my eyes," Jiang Yan said with a firm expression. He slowly unfolded his folding fan, and the fan ribs gently tapped on the cover of the storybook, making a crisp sound. "I also want to petition Your Majesty to open a girls' academy in the capital, so that all women in the world can have the right to read and learn." Jiang Yan's words were as loud as a bell, echoing in everyone's ears, as if announcing the arrival of a new era.
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