Chapter 27: Dotting the Eye
Not long after Liu Xianyang arrived at Niping Alley, another rare visitor came to the small lane: Zhao Yao, a green-robed scholar with a graceful bearing who bore a striking resemblance to the teacher Qi Jingchun. Zhao Yao was the eldest legitimate grandson of one of the town's four great clans. Unlike idle ne'er-do-wells like Lu Zhengchun, Zhao Yao, though equally born into wealth, enjoyed an excellent reputation. Many of the town's elderly widows and orphans had received kindness from this youth. If one were to claim this was a tactic of "a famous scholar cultivating his reputation among the common folk" as described in books, that would likely overestimate Zhao Yao's intentions and be a case of projecting one's own pettiness onto a gentleman. After all, the youth had possessed this nature of being kind to others since he was ten years old, year after year, without any slackening. Even the old folks on Fulu Street who had watched the boy grow up would give him a thumbs up. Every time they scolded their own children, they would bring up Zhao Yao as the benchmark, which meant that Zhao Yao had few close friends among his peers.
Lu Zhengchun and his crowd valued freedom and didn't like dealing with a pedantic bookworm who was always spouting classical phrases. Imagine everyone eagerly climbing a wall to peek at a pretty widow, only for someone beside you to mutter "look not at what is improper"—wouldn't that spoil all the fun? In short, young Zhao Yao had taken to associating with people outside Fulu Street in recent years. He had walked through nearly all the large and small alleys, except for Niping Alley, because in that alley lived Song Jixin, a peer who often made Zhao Yao feel inferior.
But if he were to name a true friend, Zhao Yao probably counted Song Jixin as his only chess partner. Although he had always lost to Song Jixin over the years, competitiveness was competitiveness, and the obsession with winning was the obsession. For the extraordinarily talented Song Jixin, Zhao Yao had always harbored deep admiration. Yet Zhao Yao felt a certain disappointment because his intuition told him that although Song Jixin joked and laughed with him and interacted intimately on a daily basis, he had never truly regarded him as a real friend or confidant.
Zhao Yao had never visited Song Jixin's home before, but when he spotted a particular house, he knew at once it had to be Song Jixin's residence. The reason was the Spring Festival couplet posted by the door. It had an abundance of characters, and from one glance, they were unmistakably Song Jixin's handwriting—the style was simply too varied, almost every character different. For example, the two characters for "Yu Feng" (Riding the Wind) were written in a single, free-flowing stroke, following his whims, imbued with a sense of ethereal ease. The character "Yuan" (Abyss) had its water radical executed with profound, lingering depth. The character "Qi" (Strange) had a large upstroke that was immensely bold, carrying the force of a thunderbolt! The character "Guo" (Nation) was written with such balance and harmony, like a sage sitting upright, utterly flawless.
Zhao Yao stood at the courtyard gate, nearly forgetting to knock. He leaned forward, staring at those characters as if entranced, utterly dejected, feeling as though he had lost the courage to even knock. Precisely because he had practiced calligraphy diligently and copied many model writings, he knew all the more the power, the weight, and the vitality contained in those characters.
Zhao Yao was crestfallen. He took out a small money pouch, bent down, and placed it by the door, preparing to leave without saying goodbye.
Just then, the courtyard door suddenly swung open. Zhao Yao looked up and saw Song Jixin, who seemed to be about to go out with his maidservant, Zhigui. The two were chatting and laughing.
Song Jixin feigned surprise and teased, "Zhao Yao, performing such a grand courtesy—what is it you desire?"
Zhao Yao awkwardly picked up the money pouch and was about to explain, but Song Jixin snatched the embroidered pouch away, grinning. "Oh ho, Zhao Yao has come bearing gifts! I'll gladly accept. But let's agree beforehand—I'm a poor man, so I have nothing worthy of your esteemed gaze. If you give and I don't reciprocate, let's just be rude for once."
Zhao Yao said with a wry smile, "This pouch of Yasheng coins is just my parting gift. No need to reciprocate."
Song Jixin turned to his maidservant and gave her a knowing smile, then handed her the money pouch. "See? I told you Zhao Yao is the most mannerly scholar in town. What do you think?"
The girl took the money pouch and held it to her chest. Her eyes squinted with joy as she curtsied slightly. "Thank you, Master Zhao. My master once said that a family that accumulates good deeds will have abundant blessings, and those who practice kindness will harvest good fortune. This servant wishes Master Zhao a meteoric rise and a journey of ten thousand miles."
Zhao Yao quickly returned the bow. "Thank you for your kind words, Miss Zhigui."
Song Jixin rubbed the back of his head and yawned. "Aren't you two tired?"
Zhigui said cheerfully, "If I can get a pouch of money each time, I wouldn't get tired even after ten thousand curtsies."
Zhao Yao was slightly embarrassed. "I'm afraid I'll disappoint Miss Zhigui."
Song Jixin waved grandly. "Come on, let's go get a drink!"
Zhao Yao looked hesitant. Song Jixin used a goading tone: "Such a blockhead! If you only learn rigid rules from reading and not a bit of a scholar's elegance, how can that do?"
Zhao Yao ventured, "A little drink to lighten the mood?"
Song Jixin rolled his eyes. "Get completely soused!"
Zhao Yao was about to speak when Song Jixin hooked his arm around his neck and dragged him away.
As the maidservant Zhigui was locking the door, the little four-legged lizard tried to sneak out. She kicked it back into the courtyard.
When she passed by the neighboring house, she quietly rose on her tiptoes and glanced askance a few times. She saw Liu Xianyang's tall figure, and he noticed her as well. His face immediately lit up with a bright smile. Liu Xianyang was about to greet her, but she had already averted her gaze and walked away quickly.
The town had an inn that served liquor, but it was quite small, though the prices were far from small. However, Zhao Yao was after all a scion of the Zhao family and had a good reputation. The innkeeper, who was notoriously stingy, seemed to have a screw loose that day, slapping his chest and declaring he wouldn't charge a single coin. Having two scholars grace his humble establishment with their patronage was an honor that made his inn shine—he should be the one paying them. Song Jixin immediately reached out his hand with a grin, asking for the silver on the spot. The innkeeper, feeling a bit embarrassed, found a way to save face, saying he'd owe it, owe it, and would have a few jars of good wine sent to Master Song's place tomorrow. Zhao Yao wished he could dig a hole and crawl into it. The innkeeper, long accustomed to the eccentric temper of the young master of Niping Alley, wasn't truly angry and personally showed the three of them to a quiet window seat on the second floor.
Song Jixin and Zhao Yao didn't talk much. Song Jixin didn't try to force drinks or trick him, which surprised Zhao Yao, who had been resigned to his fate.
From the second-floor window of the inn, one could just see the plaque on the Twelve-Pillar Archway that read "Take It Without Hesitation."
Song Jixin asked, "Is Teacher Qi really not leaving the town with you?"
Zhao Yao nodded. "Master changed his plans. He said he wants to stay at the academy and finish teaching the second-to-last lesson—'Understanding Propriety.'"
Song Jixin mused, "So Teacher Qi is going to teach a great principle, one passed down by the Confucian Sage to the world, telling us that in the beginning, there were no laws. The sage used ritual to civilize the people. Back then, rulers all revered rites, believing that if one violated propriety, they would fall into punishment—and thus law was born. 'Li fa, li fa'—propriety first, law afterward..."
Zhao Yao was already tipsy, slurring his words a little. "Do you think that's right? And why wouldn't Master just teach the last lesson directly—'Revering Propriety'?"
Song Jixin answered evasively, "Before you leave the town, things like mountain goblins and water ghosts, immortals and spirits—believe in them, and they exist; don't believe, and they don't. As for how Teacher Qi teaches and how his students listen, it's up to the will of heaven."
The maidservant Zhigui had also drunk a cup of wine. She looked a bit dizzy and cute, and throughout the entire time, she never once looked at that towering archway.
The Twelve-Pillar Archway had nine mythical beasts from the nine sons of the dragon carved into the bases of its pillars, along with the White Tiger, the Black Tortoise, and the Vermilion Bird. The townsfolk had lived with it for generations and had long since stopped finding it strange.
Zhao Yao couldn't help but burp. He staggered to his feet and said, "Farewell, my friend. I hope we meet again."
Song Jixin thought for a moment, then also stood up, smiling. "We'll definitely meet again, Zhao Yao. Don't worry that ahead there are no kindred spirits."
Zhao Yao's eyes were blurry, and he bit his tongue as he spoke earnestly, "Song Jixin, you should leave this town soon too. The whole world will know your name—you definitely can make it!"
Song Jixin clearly didn't take it too seriously. He waved his hand. "Go on, go on. Drunken rambling. How disgraceful to learning."
After leaving the inn, Zhao Yao and Song Jixin parted ways. Before leaving, Zhao Yao, perhaps emboldened by alcohol, asked, "Song Jixin, would you like to go take a look at the official residence of the kiln supervisor? I could persuade the gatekeeper..."
Song Jixin's face turned cold, and he spat out a single word through gritted teeth: "Scram!"
Zhao Yao walked away in dejection.
The maidservant Zhigui watched his retreating back and said quietly, "Young master, he meant well."
Song Jixin sneered, "How many times has the good intentions of well-meaning people ended up causing trouble and bad results in this world? Not many, huh?"
She thought it over and realized that seemed to be a rather dull and uninteresting truth, so she didn't press further.
The Fulu Street where Zhao Yao lived was in the northern part of town, while Niping Alley was in the western cluster of poor households. When Song Jixin and his maidservant walked side by side past the archway, she looked up at the plaque reading "Spirit Charging the Dipper," which now seemed like a person in their declining years.
The girl, whose real name was Wang Zhu, smiled without showing her teeth.
When Zhao Yao returned to his ancestral home on Fulu Street, a servant told him that the old matriarch was waiting for him in the study. He had to go immediately, without delay. The green-robed scholar, reeking of alcohol, felt his head swell, but he braced himself and hurried to the study.
The Zhao family kept a low profile in town, their wealth hidden. Unlike the Lu family, which flaunted its power and liked to call itself a scholarly clan, the Zhao study was tastefully antique in style.
An old woman leaning on a cane stood beside a desk, stroking its surface. Her weathered face was filled with a melancholy look of reminiscence.
When the old woman smelled the heavy odor of alcohol on her eldest grandson at the door, she wasn't angry. Instead, she smiled and beckoned, "Yao'er, come in. Why are you standing at the door? What's wrong with a man drinking a little? It's not like he's drinking horse piss—nothing to be ashamed of!"
Zhao Yao stepped over the threshold with a wry smile and respectfully bowed to the old matriarch. She said impatiently, "That's the problem with too much reading—too many rules and regulations. It makes a scholar spend his whole life walking in circles, terribly tiresome. Take your grandfather, for example. He was top-notch in everything, but when he started lecturing me on great principles, droning on and on, so annoying. And his mannerisms and expressions—tsk tsk, just asking to be hit. But I could never talk back to him, so I'd want to bash him with my cane..."
Suddenly, the old woman laughed heartily at herself. "Oh, I almost forgot—I didn't need a cane back then."
She asked with a smile, "So, were you drinking with that little white-eyed wolf named Song?"
Zhao Yao said resignedly, "Grandma, how many times do I have to tell you? Song Jixin is very talented. He has great insight and learns everything faster than others."
The old woman snorted. "Him? He's the cleverest, sure. But your grandfather could tell what he'd be like at three years old. He had that little brat pegged. Do you want to know what your grandfather said?"
Zhao Yao quickly replied, "Grandson does not want to know!"
But the old woman didn't care whether her precious grandson wanted to hear it or not. "Your grandfather said, 'At such a young age, deep and scheming. But the one who will ruin the family name of his ancestors will surely be this person.'"
Then she pointed at Zhao Yao. "Your grandfather also said, 'Warm, kind, frugal, and humble—nothing extraordinary at first glance. But the one who will nurture the vitality of his descendants will surely be my grandson!'"
After finishing, the old woman chuckled. "That old fool was sour all his life, but in the end, he finally said something pleasant to hear."
A little confused, Zhao Yao was about to speak when his grandmother sighed, "Old, so old!"
The youth had to hold back his words and went forward to take her arm, smiling. "Grandma, you'll live as long as the Southern Mountain. You're still very young."
The old woman extended her withered hand and patted her precious grandson on the back of his hand. "Better than your grandfather. He only knew how to spout nonsense about principles when he read books. At least you know how to say nice things to people."
The youth smiled. "Grandfather was truly learned. Teacher Qi also said Grandfather had a proper approach to scholarship and great insight into interpreting the character 'Yi' (Righteousness)."
The old woman immediately showed her hand—she couldn't hide her smugness, but she pretended to snort. "Of course. Just look at who chose that man!"
Zhao Yao pursed his lips tightly to suppress his laughter.
The old woman led Zhao Yao to a chair behind the desk. The youth noticed that on the desk sat a wooden carving of a coiled dragon, incredibly lifelike. But for some reason, upon closer inspection, he saw that this green wooden dragon had eyes but no pupils.
The old woman picked up a brush that had already been dipped in ink. It was a new little awl brush with a handle made from an old locust branch. She held it with both hands, trembling slightly, and handed it to her eldest grandson.
Just as Zhao Yao took the brush, still puzzled, he felt a weight on his shoulder. His grandmother had placed her hand there, and he sat down in the seat reserved only for the head of the Zhao clan.
The old woman took a step back and said with immense solemnity, "Zhao Yao, take your seat! Today, on behalf of the Zhao family's ancestors, you shall dot the dragon's eye!"
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Row after row of broken, decayed clay statues lay scattered in a patch of overgrown weeds, tilting askew, utterly neglected. This had been the case for millennia, and new clay figures would continue to end up here. The townsfolk were not only used to many things—they had long since lost much reverence for these statues.
The old folks would occasionally grumble, telling the children not to play here. But the young ones still loved to come for hide-and-seek, catching crickets, and the like. Perhaps when these children grew up and became old and gray themselves, they too would tell their children not to play here. Generation after generation, it went on like this—no storms, no waves, just uneventful monotony.
Here, one could see rolled heads, broken torsos, separated hands—as if someone had barely managed to piece them together to maintain a rough shape, but that was all that remained of their dignity.
A straw-sandaled boy hurried over from Niping Alley. His palm was tightly clutching three offering coins. When he arrived, he wound his way around, muttering to himself, and then with great familiarity found a particular statue. He crouched down, looked around—no one in sight—and then quietly slipped the copper coins into a crack in the broken statue.
He got up and went to a second statue, then a third, doing the same at each.
Before leaving, the boy stood alone in the lush green grass. He clasped his hands together, bowed his head, and murmured, "Shattered peace, shattered peace... I hope you bless my parents so that in their next life they won't have to suffer... If possible, please let my father and mother know that I am doing well now. Don't worry about me..."