Starting with a Wei Wu soldier

Chapter 288 Compiling Encyclopedias

The third day of the third month in the fourth year of the Qiming era. The Shangsi Festival.

Along the Qujiang Pool outside Chang'an City, peach blossoms and willows were in full bloom, and throngs of tourists thronged the area. Ladies in spring attire gathered in small groups to perform purification rituals and pray for blessings by the water; young men rode horses on outings, their laughter and chatter filling the air; vendors carried their wares, hawking all sorts of food and trinkets. It seemed as if the entire city of Chang'an had turned out to attend this grand spring festival.

However, the atmosphere inside the Wenyuan Pavilion, deep within the imperial city in the north of the city, was completely different from the hustle and bustle outside.

Wenyuan Pavilion was completed last autumn and is dedicated to the collection, repair, and compilation of books. The three-story building, with its blue bricks and gray tiles, flying eaves and bracket sets, while not as grand as the Taiji Hall, possesses its own serene and solemn atmosphere. In front of the pavilion stands a stone tablet inscribed with four characters personally written by Chen Xing: "The Literary Tradition Continues Forever."

At this moment, in the open hall on the second floor of Wenyuan Pavilion, Lin Wan'er was staring blankly at a mountain of ancient books.

These were books collected from various places—fragments from the former dynasty's palace, old collections from schools in various prefectures and counties, rare books donated by private collectors, and even fragments rescued from the flames of war. They were categorized and piled on dozens of long tables, some complete, some incomplete, some with clear handwriting, and some with blurred and illegible characters.

"Your Highness, Consort Shu," an elderly scholar with gray hair approached, pointing tremblingly to a pile of books, "this batch of books was transported from Luoyang, and is said to have originally been part of the Imperial Academy's collection from the previous dynasty. But look at how badly they've been eaten by insects..."

Lin Wan'er followed his finger and saw that the edges of the pile of books were covered with wormholes, some of which had even been eaten through the pages, revealing black holes.

She paused for a moment, then said softly, "Make up for what can be made up as much as possible, and for what can't be made up... copy it down and keep the contents."

The old scholar sighed, nodded, and walked away shakily.

Lin Wan'er looked around. In the open hall, there were dozens of elderly scholars, some with gray hair and others without beards or hair, each bent over their desks, some reading, some copying, and some debating in hushed tones. These were all learned men recruited from various places; some had been Hanlin scholars of the previous dynasty, some had taught in the countryside for decades, and some were even renowned scholars who had lived in seclusion for many years. Most of them were advanced in years and had long since retired from worldly affairs, but upon hearing that the court was compiling a compendium to gather all the classics in the country, they disregarded their advanced age and frail health and answered the call to come.

"Your Majesty," a younger official approached and whispered, "the Ministry of Rites is pressing us again, asking if the format of the encyclopedia has been finalized and when the formal compilation can begin."

This young man, surnamed Pei and named Xiu, was a Jinshi (a successful candidate in the highest imperial examinations) in the Mingjing (classical studies) category last year. Because of his excellent writing, he caught the eye of Lin Wan'er, who wanted him to become an editor at the Wenyuan Pavilion. He was diligent and meticulous in his work, and was one of Lin Wan'er's most capable assistants.

Lin Wan'er did not answer immediately. She walked to the window, opened it, and looked out at the bright spring sky.

The clamor from Qujiang Pool could be faintly heard, but it became distant and blurred through the heavy palace walls.

"Editor Pei," she suddenly asked, "what kind of book do you think we should edit?"

Pei Xiu hesitated for a moment, then carefully replied, "Your Majesty, according to His Majesty's decree, it is to 'collect and categorize ancient and modern classics for easy reference.' I believe it will be similar to the 'Classified Collection of Literary Works' and 'Northern Hall Collection of Books' from previous dynasties, which categorize and compile a wide range of books..."

Lin Wan'er shook her head, interrupting him: "It's not just that."

She turned around, looking at the elderly scholars working at their desks, at the mountains of ancient books, her gaze deep and thoughtful.

"His Majesty told me that what he wanted was not a book for scholars and writers to look up allusions. What he wanted was a book that would let the world know what our Chinese civilization has been learning for thousands of years; a book that would let future generations know what our predecessors thought, did, and left behind."

She paused.

"This is too difficult."

Pei Xiu was stunned. He had never seen Consort Shu speak in such a tone before—not her usual gentle and composed manner, but a rare, almost frank vulnerability.

"Your Majesty..."

Lin Wan'er waved her hand, indicating that she was alright. She walked back to the table, picked up a tattered bamboo scroll, and gently stroked the blurred characters.

"This was sent from Dunhuang. It's said to be the *Jijiupian*, written by a Han Dynasty scholar, used to teach children to read. Children two thousand years ago learned to read using this." She paused. "Two thousand years later, people still remember what they read. But what about two thousand years from now? Who will remember what we read today?"

She looked up at Pei Xiu.

"Editor Pei, this is what we need to do. Preserve what our predecessors left behind; write down what we know; so that people a thousand years from now can still know what has happened, what has been thought, and what has been done in this world."

Pei Xiu listened intently, suddenly feeling a much heavier burden on his shoulders.

He bowed deeply: "This humble official... understands."

On March 15th, the first "formal meeting" of Wenyuan Pavilion lasted from early morning until late at night.

Besides Lin Wan'er and Pei Xiu, more than a dozen other learned scholars who had been summoned to the meeting were also present. They sat around a large long table, on which were spread samples of more than a dozen encyclopedias from previous dynasties: *Huang Lan*, *Yi Wen Lei Ju*, *Bei Tang Shu Chao*, *Chuxue Ji*, *Bai Shi Liu Tie*, etc.

The debate erupted from the very beginning.

"Of course it should be classified into four categories: classics, history, philosophy, and literature! This has been the established rule for thousands of years, how can it be easily changed?" An old scholar with silver hair and beard slammed his hand on the table, his voice booming.

Another bald, elderly scholar immediately retorted: "While the four-part classification is certainly the norm, this book aims to 'bring together the past and present.' Beyond the four parts, there are many things that cannot be categorized. For example, mathematics—which part should it be classified under? Medicine—which part should it be classified under? Agricultural books—which part should it be classified under?"

"Mathematics is in the 'Sub-category,' medicine is in the 'Sub-category,' and agricultural books are also in the 'Sub-category.' What's so difficult about that?"

"But the Kezi section is too eclectic! It crams in various schools of thought, military treatises, mathematical texts, divination techniques, Buddhism, Taoism... making the book a complete hodgepodge. How difficult is it to find anything?"

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

"In my opinion, they should be divided into six categories: classics, history, philosophy, literature, science, and arts. Science includes mathematics, astronomy, calendrical science, and geography; arts include agriculture, medicine, crafts, calligraphy, and painting..."

"Absurd! The categories of 'skill' and 'art' have never existed before; they were created out of thin air. How are later generations supposed to understand them?"

"Just because our predecessors didn't have it, doesn't mean our successors can't? Are the books we compile only for our predecessors to read?"

The argument grew louder and louder, almost lifting the roof off.

Lin Wan'er remained silent. She simply listened quietly, occasionally glancing at the samples on the table, and sometimes jotting something down on a piece of paper.

The debate continued late into the night without reaching a consensus.

As everyone dispersed, Pei Xiu couldn't help but ask, "Your Majesty, what do you think should be the method of division?"

Lin Wan'er shook her head and said softly, "I don't know either."

She walked to the window and gazed at the crescent moon outside.

"But I know that no matter how it's divided, there will always be people who are dissatisfied. So what we need to do is not to satisfy everyone, but to make this book truly useful."

On March 20th, Chen Xing arrived at Wenyuan Pavilion.

He didn't enter the open hall, but stood outside the pavilion, quietly gazing at the three-story building. The pavilion was brightly lit, and shadowy figures could be vaguely seen moving about; the old scholars were still working through the night.

Lin Wan'er came out to greet him and was about to bow when he helped her up.

"No need for formalities," he said, his gaze still fixed on the brightly lit building. "Finished arguing?"

Lin Wan'er was taken aback, then gave a wry smile: "His Majesty already knows?"

Chen Xing nodded: "I've heard that they've been arguing from morning till night, and from night till morning, but they still haven't reached a conclusion."

Lin Wan'er lowered her head and said softly, "Your Majesty, I am incompetent and have made you laugh at me."

Chen Xing shook his head and looked at her.

"It's not that I'm incompetent. It's just that this matter is inherently difficult."

He paused, then suddenly asked, "Why do you think those old gentlemen were arguing?"

Lin Wan'er thought for a moment and said, "Everyone has their own views and their own beliefs."

Chen Xing nodded: "Anything else?"

Lin Wan'er was silent for a moment, then slowly said, "And... they were afraid. Afraid that what they insisted on would be denied, afraid that their lifelong learning would be useless, afraid that future generations would forget them."

Chen Xing looked at her, his eyes filled with admiration.

"You understand things much better than I thought."

He gazed at the brightly lit pavilion and slowly said:

"I am not afraid of their arguments. Their arguments show that they care. Only those who care will put their heart into it. Once they have argued enough and are tired of arguing, they will naturally find a way out."

He turned his head and looked at Lin Wan'er.

"But you have to let them know that you led them down this path. It wasn't something they argued about, it was something they discussed and agreed upon. You respect their scholarship and understand their stubbornness, but you also have to make them understand that this book wasn't written for them, it's for future generations. Future generations don't need to know what they argued about, they only need to know what they left behind."

Lin Wan'er listened intently, and suddenly felt something in her heart gradually becoming clearer.

She bowed deeply: "Your Majesty, I understand."

On March 25th, Lin Wan'er convened another meeting.

This time, she did not sit in the main seat, but instead moved a small stool and sat in the middle of the group.

"Gentlemen," she said, "we've been arguing for ten days and haven't reached a conclusion. I think we should try a different approach."

Everyone looked at each other.

Lin Wan'er continued, "Let's not set a format first, let's set principles first. The format can be adjusted gradually, but once the principles are set, they won't be changed."

"What principle?" someone asked.

Lin Wan'er held up three fingers:

"First, preserve the truth. Whatever the predecessors wrote, that's what it is. Don't delete, don't change, don't add annotations, and don't judge its merits. Let future generations see it for themselves and judge for themselves."

"Second, strive for completeness. Take in as much as you can, and keep as much as you can. Even if it's just a few words, include them. What we think is useless today may be useful tomorrow; what we think is useless today may be of great use to future generations."

"Third, it should be easy to search. The categories should be clear and the search should be convenient. People who want to search should be able to find what they're looking for; people who don't want to search should still be able to find something by browsing."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over the crowd.

"Gentlemen, do you think these three principles are feasible?"

The open hall fell silent for a moment.

The old scholar with silver beard and hair remained silent for a moment, then slowly nodded: "Preserve the truth, seek completeness, and make it easy to investigate... I agree with these six words."

The bald, elderly scholar nodded in agreement.

The others nodded in agreement.

Lin Wan'er breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alright. We can discuss the format later. Let's settle on these six words first, and then follow them no matter how we divide things in the future."

In early April, the format was finally finalized.

It's not a four-part or six-category system, but an unprecedented three-level classification method:

The first level is divided into four parts: Part A, Part B, Part C, and Part D. These four parts follow tradition and facilitate connection with classical texts from various dynasties.

The second level is further divided into several categories under each section. For example, Part A includes categories such as "Book of Changes," "Books," "Poetry," "Rites," "Spring and Autumn Annals," "Classic of Filial Piety," "General Explanation of the Classics," "Four Books," "Music," and "Elementary Learning." Part B includes categories such as "Official Histories," "Chronological Histories," "Annals of Events," "Unofficial Histories," "Miscellaneous Histories," "Imperial Edicts and Memorials," "Biographies," "Historical Excerpts," "Records," "Seasonal Records," "Geography," "Official Posts," "Political Treatises," "Catalogues," and "Historical Commentary."

The third level is further divided into several subcategories within each category. For example, the "Geography" category is divided into "General Records", "Metropolitan Areas and Counties", "Rivers and Canals", "Border Defense", "Mountains and Rivers", "Historical Sites", "Travelogues", and "Unofficial Records", etc.

In this way, it not only continues the traditional framework, but also accommodates new content, and can be subdivided layer by layer, making it easy to search.

On the day the format was finalized, a dozen or so old scholars gathered in the open hall, looked at each other, and suddenly all laughed.

The old scholar with silver hair and beard walked up to Lin Wan'er and bowed deeply.

"Your Highness, I have lived for seventy-three years, edited countless books, and had countless arguments. But never before have I felt so at ease after an argument."

Lin Wan'er quickly helped him up.

"You flatter me, sir. We edited this book together."

The old scholar shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.

"No. You led us in making it up."

On the eighth day of the fourth lunar month, the first batch of officially compiled books began to be classified, collected, and copied.

The lights in Wenyuan Pavilion burned all night from that day forward.

The elderly scholars with their white hair were bent over their desks, copying down texts from a thousand years ago, stroke by stroke. The young editors moved back and forth, carrying piles of books. The scent of ink, the fragrance of paper, and the unique, aged aroma of the books mingled together, filling every room.

Lin Wan'er was busy from dawn till dusk every day. She had to review each batch of copied manuscripts, coordinate the progress of various departments, deal with endless disputes, and also find time to return to Qiyun Pavilion to handle some affairs of the inner palace.

She had lost a lot of weight, and her eyes were sunken, but the light in her eyes was brighter than before.

One night, she was so exhausted that she fell asleep on her desk. When she woke up, she found herself covered with a thin brocade robe. The robe was dark, embroidered with dragons in subtle patterns—it belonged to His Majesty.

She paused, then looked out the window.

Outside the window, it was almost dawn. A faint sliver of pale light appeared on the eastern horizon.

She lowered her head, buried her face in the soft fabric of the brocade robe, and smiled softly.

In the autumn of the fourth year of the Qiming era, the first batch of manuscripts was finally completed.

It consisted of a total of 120 volumes, containing more than 2,000 kinds of classics from the pre-Qin period to the previous dynasties, covering dozens of categories such as classics, history, philosophers, literary collections, astronomy, geography, laws and regulations, military books, agriculture and sericulture, medicine, crafts, calligraphy and painting.

Lin Wan'er personally presented the manuscript to Chen Xing.

Chen Xing opened the first volume and saw four large characters written on the title page:

"Enlightenment Encyclopedia"

He remained silent for a long time, then gently closed the book and looked at the woman in front of him, who had become much thinner but had bright eyes.

"Wan'er," he said softly, "you've worked hard."

Lin Wan'er shook her head, tears welling in her eyes, yet she smiled.

"It's not tiring at all. Your Majesty... I'm very happy."

Chen Xing nodded and said nothing more.

He simply placed the manuscript back on the table gently, then reached out and shook her hand.

Outside the window, the autumn sun shines brightly.