Leaving the narrow, dim confines of Clay Bottle Alley, the spirited youth stepped lightly along the broad, sunlit Erlang Lane, his eyes lively and alert. His voluminous sleeves fluttered as he carried the couplet pilfered from the alley wall. A tall man—ordinarily stationed at the Supervisor's Office—stood outside, waiting silently with eyes closed, holding his breath. Upon hearing footsteps, he opened his eyes and, seeing the familiar yet strange youth, quickly turned aside, standing at attention with hands neatly clasped, respectfully greeting, "Master."
The youth gave a brief affirmative hum, casually handing the couplet to Wu Yuan before producing a key to unlock the door. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, he suddenly stepped back and closed the two courtyard gates once more. Wu Yuan nearly collided with his own master's back. The county magistrate of Longquan hastily retreated several steps, puzzled by the master's unexpected action.
The young man named Cui Can folded his sleeves and nudged the painted Door Gods with a mischievous grin. "Your revered father-in-law's ancestor hangs right here, a sight to behold, isn't he?" This awkward remark gave Wu Yuan a headache. Though he and his esteemed father-in-law, a titled Pillar of the State, were at odds, Wu Yuan shared a deep affinity with his betrothed—an alliance famed throughout the capital as a perfect match. Especially since the betrothed was a handsome and refined scholar from the Han clan, well-versed in poetry and classics, who journeyed to the capital, failed the imperial exams, yet captured the lady's heart. Despite widespread skepticism, he was accepted as the personal disciple of the Imperial Tutor, gaining renown throughout court and country. This even drew the emperor's attention, who summoned Wu Yuan to the Cultivation Hall. Since then, the prospective father-in-law had turned a blind eye to Wu Yuan, no longer threatening to break his legs.
Crossing the threshold, Cui Can muttered, "I've long pondered a question: can our Confucian ideal of 'sincere faith, clarity of righteousness, reverence for virtue, and diligent service leading to a harmonious realm' ever truly be realized?"
Wu Yuan softly asked, "Have you found an answer, Master?"
Cui Can curled his lips, "It's difficult."
Wu Yuan was momentarily speechless.
Cui Can chuckled, "Do you think that was a pointless question?"
Wu Yuan answered honestly, "Somewhat."
Such candid exchanges were typical between master and student. Cui Can was unoffended, only casting a sidelong glance at Wu Yuan with a hint of regret. "Many things in this world derive their value not from the outcome but from the journey."
Summoning courage, Wu Yuan asked, "Could you give an example, Master?"
Leading Wu Yuan toward a large vermilion lacquered table beneath the main hall's plaque, Cui Can replied, "Take your relationship with Miss Yuan, daughter of a Pillar of the State. You are deeply in love now, so entwined that holding hands brings days of joy. But when the day comes you officially wed her, consummate your marriage, the initial exhilaration will fade, and you'll feel a certain emptiness—'So this is all there is.'"
Wu Yuan grimaced, unable to respond.
Cui Can gestured for Wu Yuan to find a seat while he remained standing, gazing up at the plaque. "Yet, would you forsake the chance to share a bed with the Miss simply because the eventual outcome feels mundane? Certainly not."
He frowned slightly, "Let me put it another way: in cultivation, ordinary practitioners aim for the mid-Five Realms, geniuses aspire to the upper Five. In officialdom, the modest seek middle ranks, the ambitious strive for the highest echelons. But during the arduous climb, many fixate solely on the summit, neglecting the lush trees and blooming flowers along the path—precious beauties unnoticed, or unappreciated despite sage admonitions. The world holds profound beauty, silent and unspoken."
Wu Yuan fell into thoughtful silence.
Suddenly, Cui Can laughed heartily, "You actually believe such drivel? Nothing in this world is more tedious than reasoning."
Wu Yuan sighed, "In the past, I wouldn't have dwelled on such matters, but since your return—first in a new guise, then inexplicably visiting this small town to see old friends—I find myself uncertain."
Cui Can stretched out lazily in the broad chair, "But this philosophy isn't entirely nonsense. Though I value achievement over scholarship, it doesn't mean learning should be taken lightly. Frankly, those who do not exert themselves relentlessly have no right to debate talent. Only through genuine effort can one harbor despair toward true prodigies. That moment awakens one's soul, tears falling as they admit: I truly cannot match that genius."
Wu Yuan smiled, "In Go, the national masters and court players across Dong Baoping Continent must confront you with this very mindset."
Cui Can smirked, "Yet even a prodigy like me views some with the same eyes."
Wu Yuan shook his head, "I refuse to believe that!"
Cui Can pointed playfully at the upright Supervisor, "Master Wu, your attempt at goading is rather clumsy."
Wu Yuan laughed heartily, clasping his fists in respect, "Master, your insight is piercing."
From the corner of his eye, Wu Yuan occasionally glimpsed a naive youth of flawless complexion sitting dumbly on a small bench near the courtyard. The boy's vacant stare and upward tilt resembled a frog peering at the sky from a well. Wu Yuan had noticed him upon entering, feeling an inexplicable discomfort, yet refrained from inquiry since his master remained silent.
Wu Yuan picked up the couplet from the table, examining it closely, then asked, "Master, who penned this couplet? The author seems intriguing."
Cui Can yawned, shifting to a more languid posture, "For now, the name is Song Jixin, but in a few years, it might revert to the old, crossed-out family name in the clan archives: Song Mu."
Wu Yuan sensed the couplet's delicate nature and cautiously asked, "What do you intend to do with this couplet?"
Cui Can smiled, "To enlighten your precious senior brother. He often claims I only outwrite him because of age. Now, this couplet was composed by his own kin—hardly room for excuses."
Wu Yuan stifled a laugh, softly suggesting, "Perhaps Song Jixin, idling in the countryside, spends all day practicing calligraphy, compensating for natural shortcomings, hence producing superior writing?"
Cui Can appeared genuinely surprised, "That works?"
Wu Yuan nodded, "Your senior brother is capable of such things."
Cui Can shook his head, "No matter what's said, discipline is enforced by the rod."
Wu Yuan casually remarked, "Your master must be a strict taskmaster."
He had never known the lineage of his own master, nor the broader literary tradition. Perhaps only a handful in the entire Dali Kingdom were aware.
Suddenly, Cui Can sat straighter. "You're mistaken. My master taught me much like I teach you—identically. That's why he produced a student who forgets his roots, betrays his teachers and ancestors."
Wu Yuan thought he misheard.
Cui Can said calmly, "You did not."
He stretched lazily. "When I first studied, I wasn't as radical. I merely proposed 'balancing learning and achievement,' yet my master branded me the 'chief culprit of societal decay'."
He settled upright, locking eyes with his pupil. "The most infuriating part? My master interrupted me mid-argument—known for scholarly rigor, he refused even a day's thought, not an hour, not a single incense stick—delivering only those eight words."
Cui Can continued, "I have a junior brother who often seeks answers from my master. Each time, my master ponders thoroughly before instructing, fearing even the slightest error. Once, do you know how long my master deliberated before giving his answer?"
Cui Can held up one finger.
Wu Yuan guessed wildly, "A month?"
The Dali Imperial Tutor, appearing as a refined youth, bore an expression neither wholly amused nor pained. "Ten years."
Wu Yuan swallowed hard, silent thereafter.
Cui Can exhaled deeply, self-mocking, "Old tales and dusty tomes mean little now. Even if they mattered, what could one do?"
Rising, Cui Can shed the rare complexity from his face and said, "I summoned you today to introduce someone. I have matters to attend—wait by the door."
Wu Yuan felt as if released from a great burden and rose to leave.
Cui Can crouched beside the vacant-minded youth, rubbing his chin as if inspecting flaws.
As dusk fell, Wu Yuan entered the main hall with a man wearing a conical hat. Cui Can rose and said, "Friends, sit wherever you please."
The man removed his hat, revealing a handsome yet wan, sickly face, his spirit visibly depleted, coughing incessantly, faintly tinged with the scent of blood.
Wu Yuan's expression darkened, "Cui Minghuang of Guanhu Academy?!"
His gaze swiftly met his master's.
Cui Can—Cui Minghuang—the Imperial Tutor of Dali Kingdom. Could it be?
A chill ran down Wu Yuan's spine as dread seized his heart. Could he survive leaving this mansion alive?
Cui Can pulled a chair beside the vacant youth, back turned to Wu Yuan and Cui Minghuang, smiling, "No need to worry. One is a rare family scion I admire, the other my favored disciple destined to inherit my legacy. So, you two need not guess—think positively."
Wu Yuan mustered courage, asking, "Master, are you of the
Cui lineage?"
Cui Can nodded. "And you will be next."
He paused, "Remember, I am the Imperial Tutor who walked away from the throne's grand palace, becoming a humble servant in this small town."
The night deepened as the three figures settled in the ancient hall, their conversation weaving between memories, legacies, and the weight of destiny.