Chapter 223: Exhausting the Mortal Realm (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

Chapter 223: The Melody That Echoes Through the World (Seeking Monthly Votes)

The turning of ten days had slipped by like a whispered secret.

After the Mid-Autumn Festival, the heat that had once pressed down like a heavy stone began to lift, giving way to the crisp clarity of autumn. The southern reaches of Wei Province, particularly the regions of Guang-Yue and Jiao-Zhou, remained cloaked in lingering warmth, while the rest of the land settled into a refreshing coolness, brushed by gentle breezes.

Yet the people of Wei found themselves busier than ever before.

The farmers, having harvested their crops, turned their attention to preparing for winter and the coming year—reinforcing dikes, stabilizing irrigation channels, and plowing fields to turn over the soil. The merchants went about their business as usual, undeterred by the shifting seasons. Even the scholars, those quiet observers of the world, seemed more diligent than in any previous year.

For they were all preparing for the examinations that loomed ahead: the county exams, the prefectural exams, the academy tests, and the annual assessments. In Wei’s nine provinces and three prefectures, the county exams were held at irregular intervals, most often clustered between September and the following January. Those who passed could then take the prefectural exams in February, and upon succeeding, would proceed to the academy examinations within months. Passing those granted one the title of "sheng-yuan," a scholar-official known colloquially as a "xiu-cai."

To aspire to the provincial or palace exams, one first had to earn the sheng-yuan qualification.

In short, by autumn, scholars across the land of Wei were consumed with preparations for the examinations to come. Even those who had already achieved the title of xiu-cai could not afford to miss the annual assessment, lest they lose their standing.

Yet even as they toiled over their studies, the scholars did not forget to partake in the season’s festivities. The Mid-Autumn gatherings, held in every prefecture and commandery, gave birth to new verses of renown. The same was true for the celebrated beauties of the Qin Lou in various regions, whose fame was matched only by the admiration they drew from the students.

It was, after all, the nature of things—the indulgence of refined pleasures, the romanticism of talented souls—that inspired such discussions. Each year, as the Mid-Autumn and Lantern Festivals arrived, poetry gatherings multiplied, and masterpieces emerged in quick succession. Thus, in the month following the festival, debates raged across the land over which poem was finest.

But this year was different. Or rather, it was peculiar.

There were still discussions, of course, but as a certain *Shuimo Getao*—a *Shuimo Getao*—arrived from Shu Zhou, all prior works of merit seemed to pale in comparison. Even those who had long championed the poems of others could not help but acknowledge: *Shuimo Getao: Mid-Autumn Moon*, this year’s finest composition at every Mid-Autumn gathering, was unmatched.

Not in one place alone, but across the majority of scholars in the three prefectures of Wei, it was the unanimous verdict. Even the venerable masters of the academies, who had long since withdrawn from public view, could not suppress their admiration:

“The highest verse is one that does not transgress its bounds. Chen Qianzhou’s line, ‘I long to ride the wind and depart, yet fear the cold of the jade palace above—how unbearable the chill up there,’ is ethereal, layered with meaning.”

“The briskness of the *Shuimo Getao* is truly the eloquence of the ages.”

“The first half of this verse flows like a celestial being’s brushstroke, while the second, melancholy and lyrical, captures the sorrow of the world.”

With a single phrase—“the sorrow of the world”—the scholars’ reverence for the *Shuimo Getao: Mid-Autumn Moon* was laid bare.

Across the regions, the consensus was often summarized as the finest moon-viewing verse in the history of Mid-Autumn festivals.

In the Prefecture of Jiangnan, in the city of Jianye—once the ancient capital, famed for its five-hundred years of splendor—stretching along the axis of the Vermilion Bird Street, the lanes and markets on either side teemed with life, extending nearly a hundred li. Along the banks of the Qinhuai River, teahouses, guesthouses, and inns dotted the landscape, their doors bustling with travelers day and night. The streets were alive with noise and clamor from dawn until dusk.

Thankfully, some of the residences along the river were set far enough from the din to allow for peace. Yet, ironically, the young scholar Sun Fu, newly arrived from Shu Zhou, had chosen a modest courtyard nestled near several of these teahouses.

Each morning, before dawn, the courtyard was visited by drunkards staggering out of the inns, their hymns and laughter echoing through the air. Some even relieved themselves against the outer walls, prompting Sun Fu’s wife to nearly lose her temper.

But these were but the lesser offenses.

The greatest disturbance came from the courtesans of the Qin Lou themselves. For Sun Fu, a man of letters, their presence was a constant source of temptation. Each time they passed, they would flash a coquettish glance toward the courtyard, their bodies on display.

Sun Fu, ever the scholar, chose to ignore them.

Yet his son, Sun Yunfeng—a young man of thirty, with a composed demeanor and a face as fair as moonlight—was not so fortunate. In the bustling city of Shu Zhou, he had never encountered such sights. Not a single alleyway filled with lanterns and beauty. To be sure, he had seen few such things in his life.

Thus, this virile middle-aged man found himself flustered each time their gazes met, his cheeks flushing, his heart quickening.

Sun Fu, at a loss for remedy, merely cautioned his wife and daughter-in-law to keep a watchful eye, and to warn Yunfeng if need be.

“Tomorrow at dawn, I shall visit Li’s private academy to take up my teaching duties. Yunfeng, you go find a shop to work in—stick to what you know best.”

“Father, I understand.”

Sun Yunfeng dared not disagree, and added, “In these past few days, I have tested the waters of the Qinhuai River and the springs of the Purple Gold Mountain—they are suitable for brewing wine.”

“It may differ in taste, though. The waters of the Red River are sweeter.”

“A difference in flavor is but a minor thing. It will suffice for our household.”

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Sun Fu rose and made his way to his study, as was his custom, to examine the poetry volumes gifted by Chen Yi.

He examined them with great pleasure, and soon took up his brush and paper to copy the calligraphy.

Though he was no master of the written word, his heart belonged to books and writing. The beauty of the script, he found, was beyond measure.

He copied the work twice, carefully preserving the scroll. He then turned his attention to studying the brushstrokes of the cursive script.

But before he could begin to practice, Sun Yunfeng hurried in, breathless with urgency.

“Father, Master Ju Yi of Jianye’s academy is here to pay his respects.”

Sun Fu paused, puzzled. “Which master?”

“Master Ju Yi—he is here, in the courtyard. You…”

Before he could finish, a shadow appeared at the doorway of the study, and with a slight bow, spoke:

“Long Ming Xiong, I apologize for the intrusion. I humbly ask for your forgiveness.”

The man was neither old nor young, his face handsome, his beard neatly trimmed with a brush. He stood tall and lean, clad in a white robe beneath a blue scholar’s sash.

Just standing in the room, his Confucian elegance would naturally exude from him.

Sun Fu hurriedly rose and bowed respectfully, "My lord, it is surely an oversight in my hospitality; please forgive any offense."

The shadow of the tree of everyone’s name.

Mr. Ju Yi was not only the patriarch of the Jinling Academy, but also a renowned scholar whose name was known throughout the land.

His students were numerous, many of whom held official positions in the capital.

His standing in Jinling and even the Jiangnan Prefecture was, in many ways, comparable to Master Yue Ming of the Guixiang Academy.

Yet Mr. Ju Yi was clearly more widely known than Yue Ming.

Sun Fu was well aware of these facts, but he had never met Mr. Ju Yi and knew little of him beyond reputation.

He could not have imagined that Mr. Ju Yi would come seeking him out.

"The Long Ming brother is being too modest."

They took their seats; Sun Yunfeng and his wife went to prepare tea.

They exchanged a few polite words.

Mr. Ju Yi smiled and said, "Long Ming brother, you must be wondering why I have come today."

Sun Fu did not deny it, nodding, "My lord, I have long admired you from afar, yet never had the chance to meet. Indeed, I have been puzzled."

"Ha… it is only natural, it is only natural."

"My arrival this time was by some fortunate coincidence."

After a pause, Mr. Ju Yi smiled and asked, "Long Ming brother, have you heard of the Mid-Autumn Poetry Gathering?"

Sun Fu sighed weakly, "When I first came to Jinling, I had only just settled in, and had not yet learned much about the poetry gatherings here."

Mr. Ju Yi shook his head, "It is not here in Jinling, but at the Guixiang Academy in Shuzhou, where the Mid-Autumn Poetry Gathering took place."

"Oh?"

"On the previous day, a letter arrived from Shuzhou. The Guixiang Academy’s Mid-Autumn Poetry Gathering produced a fine work titled *Water Melody Tune: Mid-Autumn*."

Sun Fu’s heart stirred; he sensed the direction of Mr. Ju Yi’s thoughts.

Mr. Ju Yi continued, "The author of this poem was none other than my former student, now the son-in-law of the Xiao family, Chen Yi, known as Chen Qinzhou."

Sun Fu confirmed his earlier suspicion, muttering to himself, "No wonder Mr. Ju Yi came seeking me."

"Sir, you came to inquire about Chen Qinzhou, having heard that I once lived in the Xiao household?"

"He certainly has great talent, especially in poetry and literature. He…"

Mr. Ju Yi slightly raised his hand, signaling understanding, and said, "My student has always been gifted from childhood; I have no doubt of his literary prowess."

"This visit is solely to ask you—has Chen Qinzhou truly reached perfection in both the literary and moral arts?"

Sun Fu suddenly realized, nodded, "Indeed, it is true."

Upon hearing this, Mr. Ju Yi’s smile grew brighter, "It seems the rumors are true; Qinzhou has reached a realm beyond what others might imagine. His poetry on the Curve Pool reveals a world of sublime artistry."

"Alas, I remain here in Jinling, far from Shuzhou. If only I could go and witness his mastery firsthand!"

Sun Fu felt a stirring within him. He rose, retrieved a silk box from his desk, and returned to his seat, "If it were merely that, perhaps I could not satisfy Mr. Ju Yi."

"But before I came to Jinling, I happened to receive a calligraphy piece from Chen Qinzhou, written with his utmost artistry."

Mr. Ju Yi paused, his expression shifting to one of surprise, "Ah…"

He took the silk box, opened it, and unfolded the calligraphy. Suddenly, golden light filled the room, a scene of endless golden sands unfurling before them.

"…Who among the myriad people under heaven does not recognize your name?"

As Mr. Ju Yi read the lines, he gazed at the magnificent and soaring imagery, and could not help but exclaim, "This must be the 'running script' the letter from Shuzhou spoke of. Chen Qinzhou has truly reached a level beyond what others might expect."

As the patriarch of the Jinling Academy, he had seen many treasured works—calligraphy from past sages, writings from contemporary sages, and numerous pieces showcasing perfection in the literary arts.

Yet in his eyes, none compared to the calligraphy in his hand.

Not because of the artistic merit alone, but because "running script" was a new style, different from the new script of Wei Qing.

Sun Fu saw his expression and smiled, "You are right, Master. With Qinzhou’s age, given time, he will surely become a sage."

After all, Chen Qinzhou was his own kin, and he must raise him up with pride.

Mr. Ju Yi nodded, "Alas, he has long since departed to Shuzhou; he may never return in this lifetime."

Sun Fu felt a slight tremor in his heart, asking, "My lord, I have heard that when Qinzhou studied under you, his talents were exceptional."

"Why then did he fall into such obscurity afterward?"

Upon hearing this, Mr. Ju Yi blinked, then sighed, "This question has also been posed to me by Master Yue Ming recently."

"If I were to feign ignorance, perhaps Long Ming brother and Master Yue Ming would not believe me."

"But the truth is as I say; I now regret it somewhat."

Thinking for a moment, Mr. Ju Yi spoke, then continued, "Five years ago, the academy was closed for repairs. Chen Qinzhou returned to the Chen family in Jiangnan."

"Since then, he never returned to the academy. I wrote to the Chen family, and sent messengers to pay respects, but received replies stating that Chen Qinzhou had already taken a new master."

"At first, I was displeased, but thinking of the Chen family’s centuries-long tradition, finding a more accomplished master was not difficult, so I did not press the matter further."

"But later, when he failed to appear in two consecutive imperial examinations, I began to sense something was amiss."

"Before I could even inquire, the Chen family in Jiangnan announced that Chen Qinzhou had married into the Xiao family in Shuzhou. It was already too late."

Sun Fu furrowed his brow, pondering, "Sir, do you know why the Chen family acted thus?"

"Is it true, as rumors claim, that Chen Qinzhou was harmed by his stepmother, leading him to such a path?"

Mr. Ju Yi sighed, shook his head, "I do not know."

"But based on my understanding of the Chen family, there must be some hidden reason unknown to outsiders."

"Even the respected Chen family of Jiangnan, with their centuries-old traditions, would not dare hinder such a talented man from achieving success and entering officialdom."

"Even if the stepmother, Mrs. Cui of Clear River, disliked him, she would only have allowed him to leave the Chen household and establish a new branch, without tarnishing the family’s reputation."

"Moreover, how could it be? The two Chens, Chen Xiangqi and Chen Xian, are not fools who would act so shortsightedly."

Sun Fu slightly nodded, "Indeed, this matter is peculiar…"

The Chen family of Jiangnan, the Cui family of Clear River—why did they conspire to send Chen Qinzhou to the Xiao household?

Suddenly, he considered a possibility—usurping the nest with another bird?

No, could Chen Qinzhou have done such a thing?

After Mr. Ju Yi departed, Sun Fu sat in silence for a long time, ultimately concluding that Chen Qinzhou was not the type to plot against the Xiao family.

Yet this remained his personal speculation.

Once Chen Yi allied with the Chen family of Jiangnan Prefecture, or was ordered by them, it would inevitably affect the safety of the Xiao family.

After much thought,

Sun Fu let out a sigh, "Heavenly born dragons and elephants, golden koi leaping into the sky, should be able to turn misfortune into good fortune."

He decided to observe for a while in the coming days. If he noticed any irregularities in Chen Yi’s movements, he would definitely write to the old lord.

"Hope the little boat of Qingzhou hasn’t gone bad…"

……

Shu Zhou, Dingyuan Baron’s Estate, Spring Lotus Garden.

The hour of Shen had just passed.

The sky darkened rapidly.

Vast clouds gathered swiftly, and rain poured down in torrents.

It drummed against the pond in the courtyard—tap, tap, tap, endlessly.

A small butterfly let out a sudden chirp, then quickly shielded its head with both hands and darted toward the bamboo grove to gather the clothes dried in the sun.

Chen Yi sat calmly in the pavilion sipping tea, while Xiao Wu Ge bent over writing by the side, his brow furrowed.

These days had unfolded far more tranquil than he had anticipated.

No one had come to visit, nor spoken of the affairs of the Guixue Shrine or the teachings of the Book of Clouds Studio.

No one had inquired about his matters concerning the Pool of Melody, the Floating Bridge, or the Five Poison Sect.

It seemed as though he had been forgotten entirely.

Though Chen Yi found such stillness agreeable, he could not help but remain vigilant, keeping watch for any small whispers of news regarding his martial and medical arts.

He had been monitoring for several days.

In the end, he found no traces of Yan Fa Sha and the others—they had simply vanished, leaving no ripple.

Only a rumor among the common folk persisted: "A top-three master is said to dwell outside Shu Zhou City, suspected as the second culprit behind the burning of Tiebai Fortress to requisition summer grain."

It was also said that several investigators and local gentry from Shu Zhou had visited to inquire.

After that, no further news emerged.

Yet Chen Yi knew that Liu Zhaoxue of the Liu family in Jingzhou must have sensed something, for she had returned to Jingzhou all too swiftly.

"She likely harbored no suspicions about me, probably assumed, like common folk, that I was one of those two culprits from Tiebai Fortress."

At the same time, Chen Yi knew Liu Zhaoxue would return again.

The reason was simple.

After the Mid-Autumn Festival, five new teahouses named Xinglin Shrine had opened across Shu Zhou Prefecture.

Though not situated near the Xiao family apothecary, they were enemies in the same field. The moment Xinglin Shrine opened its doors, it began to monopolize all the business of the apothecaries in Shu Zhou.

The Bai Caogang’s daily sales of medicinal herbs had dwindled significantly. What of other apothecaries?

Fortunately, Bai Caogang and the Xiao family apothecary, specializing in teas, managed to scrape together an extra five ten-thousand silver dollars compared to last month.

Not much to speak of.

But under such circumstances, he did not believe the Liu family of Jingzhou, nor Liu Zhaoxue, would let Xinglin Shrine go unaddressed.

Additionally, Chen Yi had kept tabs on the aftermath of the summer grain requisition in the three towns.

The news of Xiao Laoyou and Liu Hong being reprimanded by the Emperor had spread for several days, and by now had settled into silence.

Within and beyond theprefecture, few dared to mention it anymore, as though it had been forgotten.

Yet many whispered that Liu Hong had recently issued several edicts from the Governor’s Office.

Some concerned taxation, others about canal labor duties, and still others regarding the arrangement of the imperial examination for all cultivated scholars.

As for this last matter, it too held some relevance to Chen Yi.

After all, he himself was a cultivated scholar.

Should he fail to participate in the examination, or perform poorly, he might lose his degree and status altogether.

Chen Yi cared little for this, but Xiao Wan’er had grown quite invested.

Over the past two days, she had repeatedly inquired about his thoughts, her words laden with persuasion to take part in this year’s examination.

She argued that if he did not pursue the degree, he would miss out on numerous benefits: exemption from military service, not kneeling before officials, and the prohibition against arbitrary arrests—privileges afforded to degree holders.

After much deliberation, Chen Yi still resolved not to take part.

As the son-in-law of Dingyuan Baron, husband to Xiao Jinghong, and instructor at the Guixue Shrine, how could he afford to lack a degree?

As for the Xiao family,

Since the burning of Tiebai Fortress, their troubles had multiplied.

Not only were they required to purchase grain and supplies for Tiebai Fortress, but they also had to pay taxes for the three towns, losing a fortune in silver.

It was said that Xiao Laoyou worried day and night, his heart aching.

Beyond this, there were other matters.

His martial arts had reached the sixth grade perfection, soon to break through to the fifth grade.

Bai Caogang had already departed for other counties in Shu Zhou to investigate the apothecaries.

Xiao Wan’er had prepared all the materials for the Medical Arts Academy and was soon to survey the location of the academy on the Xiao family estate.

Pei Wang had written to Mother Mountain-Mother, but had yet to receive a reply.

Xiao Jinghong had sent word that the construction of the market in the neighboring region was progressing well, and in another half-month, two markets would be completed.

Their scale rivaled the East Market of Shu Zhou Prefecture, with over a hundred stalls.

And—

As Chen Yi pondered these matters, he watched the raindrops pattering in the pond, when footsteps approached from behind.

"Second cousin, Wu Ge, and Miss Xiao, please follow me to dinner."

Chen Yi blinked, turning to see the speaker—"Zhi Cloud Immortal?"

Zhi Cloud smiled and whispered, "Second cousin, Zhi Cloud is honored to serve."

Honored to serve?

"How many disciples from the Tian Shan Sect have you brought?"

"Not too many, not too few—just right, one hundred and twenty-seven."

How so? One hundred and twenty-seven?

Chen Yi muttered under his breath—this Zhi Cloud must have brought all the disciples of the Tian Shan Sect along with him.

(Chapter End)