Chapter 167: Characters Manifesting into Paintings, Perfection in the Dao of Calligraphy

Chapter 167: The Characters Unveil the Scroll, the Way of Letters Completes

With Sun Fu laoshi standing beside him, Xiao Woge could not truly be seeking his aid.

Yet the anguish in those small eyes of his betrayed face spoke volumes of "pity."

Chen Yi glimpsed his plight and couldn't help but chuckle inwardly, yet offered him a meaningful glance.

Then he bowed respectfully and said, "Sun laoshi, I come to greet you—please, sit."

Sun Fu naturally observed the unspoken words between them.

He understood Xiao Woge's thoughts and thus paused his earlier admonitions, smiling: "Little boat, I've come to bid you farewell today."

Chen Yi felt no surprise.

Long before, Sun Fu had hinted at his plans to journey to Jinling.

He had presumed Sun Fu would depart soon after Qin Guan Gong Zhang Xuan left, but instead nearly a month had passed before he finally prepared to go.

"Have you made up your mind?"

Sun Fu glanced at the bewildered Xiao Woge, sighed, and nodded.

"I've already informed my wife and children by letter—they'll pack their belongings tomorrow."

"After I return, we'll all head to Jinling together."

"Since you've decided, student, I need say no more. The road to Jinling is long—please take care."

Chen Yi knew Sun Fu's journey to Jinling carried gambling's gamble.

After all, the phenomenon of golden carp leaping before Xiao Woge carried some mystical weight.

Yet upon reflection, Sun Fu's arrival in Jinling brought only benefits to Xiao Woge.

With this elder kin of the Xiao family in Jinling, Xiao Woge's days there would grow easier.

In the end, the two could speak freely.

Sun Fu slightly bowed his head, smiling: "Your words are merely polite formalities."

"Don't forget you promised me two calligraphy pieces."

Chen Yi fell silent, then ordered Little Butterfly to prepare dinner, and led Sun Fu to the study.

Xiao Woge watched them depart, feeling relief. "Uncle, you still have tricks up your sleeve."

Little Butterfly noticed his worried expression and whispered, "My lord, are you afraid of Sun laoshi?"

"Not afraid—just... peculiar."

Xiao Woge had no objection to Sun Fu's teachings; he simply found his gaze odd.

That gaze, though resembling an elder's care, carried a fierce, burning intensity that left him unsettled.

"Thank goodness he leaves tomorrow for Jinling... Jinling?"

Xiao Woge's face clouded with sudden dread, visions of misfortune flashing through his mind.

Why would he go to Jinling?

Was he planning to wait there for Xiao Woge to come for his release?

No, please.

In the study.

Sun Fu, unaware that Xiao Woge had guessed his intentions, stood like a servant, grinding ink for Chen Yi.

Impossible.

This scholar-official of decades, this veteran official, could only manage to grind ink with such grace and propriety.

To preserve decorum, Chen Yi also stood at the desk.

Unfolding several larger sheets of cypress paper, he chatted casually with Sun Fu.

Mostly inquiring about his plans for Jinling.

"I've arranged lodgings for two distant relatives—they're staying in a small courtyard by the Qinhuai River."

"A few old friends await you in Jinling; you can visit them."

"As for finances, there's no need to worry. Several private academies are available, and the Jinling Academy—I can go there too."

"My dogs are strong and hardy; my daughter-in-law knows how to manage household affairs. Life will be stable."

As Sun Fu chattered on, Chen Yi's earlier notion of gambling faded.

An elderly man of over sixty, finding purpose in his final years—this was a blessing.

Hearing the Way by day, dying by night—this was fitting.

When the ink was properly mixed, its black sheen reflected the fading evening light beyond the window.

Chen Yi regained his composure and, under Sun Fu's gaze, dipped his brush to write:

"To Sun Fu Gong of Longming, from Shuzhou."

After a pause, images of Sun Fu's resolute determination surged in his mind, and he abandoned his original verse for a new one.

His brush moved swiftly, pressing slightly, and the characters "Thousands of Li" appeared.

A surge of heroic might rose from the page.

Then "Yellow Clouds" followed, the characters light and nimble, pairing beneath "Thousands," bridging the upper and lower strokes to connect with "Cloud."

Four characters completed.

Golden light flickered across them, outlining the ink as if drawn in gold, transforming the black strokes into a radiant hue.

On that narrow sheet, a scene of "Thousands of Li of Yellow Clouds" materialized—vast and vivid, like a sandstorm forming clouds.

It mirrored Sun Fu's tranquil face, now etched with astonishment.

"Characters... characters... the words reveal the scroll, the Way of letters is complete..."

Yet Chen Yi remained oblivious, continuing to write with focused intent.

Even as the golden radiance bathed him, he did not pause.

At this moment, Sun Fu's eyes widened, clouded with wonder.

He swallowed involuntarily, glanced at Chen Yi's calm expression, then looked at the cypress paper.

Softly reciting the poem that had unfolded before him:

"Thousands of li of yellow clouds... the sun's bright rays."

"North wind blows, geese and snowflakes dance."

"Do not worry that there are no confidants ahead; who in the world does not recognize you?"

Chen Yi, with unrelenting strokes of ink, completed this poem titled "To Chang Ming Gong of Shu Zhou."

When he finally set down his brush, having written his name "Chen Yi, Chen Qinzou," and sealed it with an ink stamp, he came to himself.

He also saw, upon the cypress paper, the scroll with its grand and majestic imagery, one after another unfolding.

The yellow sands of thousands of miles were swept into the sky’s embrace, and in the mist, the outline of the sun emerged.

In the midst of wind and snow, the north wind carried a line of geese flying in perfect formation.

And in the final scroll, there stood a man standing atop a hill, gazing far into the distance, atop a tower bearing the characters "Jinling."

He wore a gray robe, his beard and hair white with age, yet his smile held a gentle warmth, as if embracing the entire world within his eyes.

—It was none other than Sun Fu, Sun Changming!

As Chen Yi felt satisfied, yet also moved with a sense of melancholy, he realized he had intended to write two poems to bid farewell, but in the end, overcome by thoughts of Sun Fu’s spirit, he had changed it to this one.

He looked up at Sun Fu, still immersed in the script, and was about to say something, when a flash of golden light appeared before him:

[Text naturally formed, calligraphy: cursive script, breaking through to the pinnacle of perfection, revealing the completion of the Way of Writing.]

[The Way of Writing: Great Completion, entering the next realm +1000, reaching the state of perfection.]

Chen Yi blinked in surprise, murmuring within himself, "Perfection of the Way of Writing... Perfection—this has dawned upon me."

Perhaps hearing his voice, Sun Fu awoke, staring at him with an expression of excitement.

Yet his first words were not praise for his breakthrough in the Way of Writing, but a question:

"Qinzou, you—are you certain this script is for me?"

"It must be correct, it is certainly for you."

"Then the figure in the scroll is none other than me."

Upon hearing this, Chen Yi could not help but smile and nod, half in jest, half in earnest: "Of course it is for you."

He pointed to the beginning of the poem: "To Changming Gong, a farewell—this is written clearly."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Sun Fu took the script in his hands.

He laughed, saying how his husband would never break his word, then dried the ink. A treasure so precious he couldn’t bear for anyone to see.

Knowing Sun Fu’s joy, Chen Yi fetched a jade box from his bookshelf, allowing him to keep the script safely.

When Sun Fu praised it, closing the jade box and holding it to his chest, Chen Yi added with a teasing tone:

"Looks like I need not write a second poem after all—your honor must be quite satisfied with this."

To his surprise, Sun Fu nodded earnestly, laughing: "Indeed, there is no need—it is enough to have this poem, this word, this verse."

Who in the world does not recognize you?

Sun Fu would, at this very moment, die on the spot, yet still be remembered in history by this poem.

How could he not feel content?

"Qinzou’s Way of Writing has achieved the three flavors: the heart precedes the brush, the method follows the wrist, when the person is old, one sees the true face of heaven and earth."

"If you persist in time, you will surely ascend to the sacred realm, becoming one of the 'Sages of Writing' in this age, alongside Zhao Tian and Wang Meng."

Chen Yi knew Zhao Tian and Wang Meng were the only two "Sages of Writing" in the Great Wei dynasty today.

It was said that when they completed a script, not only did golden fragrance bloom upon the characters, but their imagery could also manifest a fantastical world, resembling a scroll.

"You have praised me highly, but I am still far from such a realm."

"I am always practical, not exaggerating. When you were his age, theirs was far from reaching your level."

Sun Fu, his spirit buoyant at such a joyous occasion, seemed to age a few years himself.

Beyond his joy for the poem itself, his heart grew more resolute about his earlier plans.

Not to consider becoming Xiao Wugou’s teacher, or whether he could guide him to success.

To ensure this poem was not tarnished, he must exert all his efforts.

After some casual talk, Chen Yi straightened his desk, arranging brush, ink, paper, and inkstone in order, and sat with Sun Fu by the window, chatting leisurely.

As they talked, their conversation turned to the Xiao family’s current situation.

Sun Fu, having stayed with the Xiao family these days, saw things more clearly, and had spoken with the old marquis several times, knowing more details.

Chen Yi, too, understood the Xiao family’s affairs through secret channels.

Yet he did not wish to speak much, lest Sun Fu think he harbored ambitions toward the Xiao family.

To cause trouble.

Sun Fu, observing Chen Yi’s steady, calm, and unerring nature, felt there was more beneath his composed exterior, and asked more directly:

"What are your plans after this?"

"Which aspect do you mean?"

"Yourself, your future—surely you cannot remain a teacher at Fei Cloud College forever?"

Upon hearing this, Chen Yi met his gaze directly, smiling unabashedly: "Why not?"

"Because your talents and abilities cannot remain confined to that college, not even the Xiao family could contain them."

Seeing him speak so plainly, Chen Yi guessed his thoughts, and asked:

"Are you afraid I might act against the Xiao family, or afraid I might abandon them?"

Sun Fu did not hide his thoughts, nodding: "Both."

"These days, the Xiao family faces internal troubles and external threats. If you could lend your support, some issues would be resolved with ease."

"If you stand by idly, though it may take effort, I believe Xiao Hou and Jing Hong and others could manage."

"But if you move against the Xiao family..."

Before he could finish, Chen Yi slightly raised his hand, interrupting him, his expression naturally serious:

"I and the Xiao family are already bound together. To say we are 'in this together' may seem forced, but a wife follows her husband, and a husband follows his wife—this is fitting."

Sun Fu blinked, half in jest, half in earnest, pointing at him: "A wife follows her husband?"

"Qinzou, if this phrase were spoken to outsiders, you’d probably be attacked by scholars for being unconventional."

Yet Chen Yi was resolute: "I am just a son-in-law, following my wife, relying on her support—what’s wrong with that?"

"You... you..."

Though Sun Fu found the phrase somewhat heretical, he understood his heart.

—After all, he was in sync with the Xiao family’s cause.

With such words, it was enough.

The others finished their dinner.

Chen Yi inquired about the exact time Sun Fu would depart the next day, then escorted him out of the Spring Lotus Garden, watching him disappear into the night’s glow with swift, steady steps.

There was inevitably a touch of sentiment.

Such elders, steeped in wisdom passed down through generations, would surely bring solace to Xiao Huang during his time in Jing City.

Thinking this, Chen Yi sought out Xiao Huang to inquire about the situation at the Pure Home.

“Liu Family, Liu Ay?”

“Old Master rejected him.”

“When the eldest aunt returned, her face beamed with joy—he must have been relieved.”

Xiao Huang finished his explanation in a calm manner, his small face inevitably tightening with tension:

“Brother, that Liu family is truly evil—they’ve tormented the eldest aunt. I’ll never forgive them.”

Chen Yi nodded without committing, for such matters “action speaks louder than words.”

Yet, despite his slight relaxation of tension, he couldn’t help but press his palm against Xiao Huang’s flushed cheek:

“You’ve spilled all my secrets, brother. Every last one of them.”

Xiao Huang dared not move, grinning with a toothy smile: “The facts are the facts, after all.”

“You cured the eldest aunt yourself, didn’t you?”

Chen Yi withdrew his hand, speaking with a hint of irritation: “It looks like I’ll have to advise the eldest aunt to give you a few more lessons tomorrow morning.”

“Brother, please… don’t.”

Don’t?

Don’t, but must.

This little brother-in-law is practically becoming the spy the Xiao family has planted beside him.

Chen Yi feigned disapproval with a mocking laugh, causing Xiao Huang to swear he’d never do such a thing again, then let him wash up and sleep.

Not long after, Chen Yi also washed and changed into loose garments, sitting quietly in the chamber to gaze through the window.

The sky had grown utterly dark.

At some point, ominous clouds gathered overhead, as if bracing for a storm.

The croaking of frogs within the Spring Lotus Garden grew louder, more chaotic, shrill.

Chen Yi listened and watched, his gaze inevitably drifting to the adjacent Jia Xing Yard.

Figures and names flickered through his mind—Liu family of Jiangzhou, Yin Wei, Hei Ya, Ming Yue Lou, the Shuzhou Governor’s Office, Liu Hong, Yang Ye, Xiao Dongchen, and Chen Yunfan.

The Xiao family—Xiao Jinghong, Xiao Wan’er, Old Master…

It felt as though a vast net had ensnared them all, or like a chessboard where they were mere pawns.

About half an hour later, Chen Yi finally withdrew his gaze and exhaled softly.

“Still just a pawn…”

He murmured to himself.

Rising, he donned the black robes already prepared, binding a five-foot spear to his left hand.

Then came the Immortal’s Drunken Sword and the Scent of Flowers’ Drunken Sword, along with the silver acupuncture box.

Tonight, he’d accompany Liu Lang to meet Hei Ya and others.

With his martial prowess not on display, his medical arts would have to shine more brightly.

As for his identity…

Beyond someone from the Liu family of Jingzhou, there was no other option!

(End of Chapter)