Walking on the bluestone path of the palace, the full moon in the sky and the two of them in the forest, Fan Xian's back was already soaked with sweat. Even in this summer night, he still felt a little cold. He let out a breath of turbid air, still feeling a little scared. Patting his chest, he complained to Haitang beside him, "You guessed that I … wrote Story of the Stone. Why didn't you tell me? You almost scared me to death with that Emperor of yours."
Haitang laughed. "Who told you to hide it from the world for so long?" Then she rolled her eyes. "Why are you so afraid? If it wasn't for your identity as Grandmaster Cao, then what were you afraid of His Majesty saying? "
Fan Xian didn't even think about it. He smiled gently. "What do you think?"
The corners of Haitang's mouth curled up slightly. She said nothing. Fan Xian tilted his head to look at her. He saw that her long eyelashes were tinged with a layer of silver, giving her a kind of pure beauty. Her eyes, the most outstanding feature of her face, were especially bright in the night. The silver moonlight really did have a kind of magic. That kind of haziness seemed to be able to turn any ordinary woman into a worldly fairy.
Fan Xian didn't feel anything. He just put his hands behind his back and slowly walked forward. "You tricked me this time. I'm not seeking revenge. You should know why."
"You want me to help you with something." Haitang smiled. "Although I don't know what it is, I think it has something to do with the south. That's why you need an outsider like me to help you."
"That's right. You and I... are actually both hypocrites." Fan Xian's lips curled into a strange self-deprecating smile. "So when we talk, it seems we can be a little more direct. What I need you to help me with may or may not happen. In any case, when the time comes, I will send someone to inform you."
Haitang looked at him and suddenly said, "I hear that you love the illegitimate daughter of the Prime Minister very much. That's why you haven't even taken in the head servant that grandmother in Danzhou."
"I don't like you probing into my family matters." Fan Xian turned his head and said seriously, "This topic ends here."
Haitang smiled and nodded. "Actually, I'm just curious. What kind of person would feel comfortable when they see women and uncomfortable when they see men? They would think that unmarried women are pearls and married women are fish eyeballs. They would think that women are made of water and men are made of mud. They would think that women are precious and men are lowly …"
After a long string of words, Haitang stared into Fan Xian's serene eyes and said softly, "I am very curious. In this world, men are respected. Why does Master Fan have such views?"
Fan Xian smiled and did not reply.
Haitang suddenly curtsied and said seriously, "On behalf of all the women in the world, Duoduo thanks Master Fan for establishing a legacy for the boudoir and fighting for women's rights."
Fan Xian was silent for a moment. He suddenly opened his mouth and said, "I am different from most people in this world."
After leaving the palace, Haitang was surprised to find that the grand tutor was still standing guard outside the palace. Fan Xian's expression did not change when he saw His Majesty's teacher. Presumably, he had already known about it.
Haitang bowed to the grand tutor and then turned to Fan Xian. "I will see you off the day after tomorrow."
Fan Xian understood the hidden meaning in her words. He nodded and got into the grand tutor's carriage.
Watching the three carriages gradually disappear into the night of Shangjing, Haitang's bright eyes suddenly became unfocused. She thought about the last words of that handsome young official from the south. Different? In the eyes of the world, Fan Xian was naturally different. But she did not know how he thought he was different.
— — — —
The carriages stopped outside a quiet courtyard. The imperial soldiers responsible for the diplomatic mission's safety finally learned that the great scholar of Southern Qi, Fan Xian, had made his last visit in Northern Qi. He had come to see this master. Thinking of the poem duel that had been rumored all over the world, they could not help but feel uneasy. They did not know what Fan Xian was thinking, but in this courtyard filled with books, they naturally quieted down.
The Tiger Guards in the first carriage got out. Their eyes were fierce, and they guarded a few key points.
Fan Xian and the grand tutor of Northern Qi walked down from the carriage hand in hand. Although their attitude was not necessarily friendly, it did not seem to be hostile either. Everyone felt a little more at ease. They saw the grand tutor, who had always been upright and outspoken, quietly say something to Fan Xian, and the two of them pushed open the door and entered.
Fan Xian waved his hand, indicating that the Tiger Guards should not follow.
Outside a room in the courtyard, the grand tutor bowed deeply to the inside of the room. He turned back to Fan Xian and said calmly, "Master Fan, my teacher has not been well recently. Please do not talk for too long."
Fan Xian politely bowed to the great scholar, tidied his clothes, and gently pushed open the wooden door. Looking out, he saw an old man holding a small brush and scribbling something on a piece of paper.
This old man was a master of scripture, and his students were spread all over the world. The grand tutor of Northern Qi and Shu the Scholar of Southern Qi were both his disciples. Before Fan Xian revealed his brilliance, no one could compare to him in scholarly matters. Even after Fan Xian shamelessly defeated Guo Jingming in the palace hall in an attempt to win by a fluke, no one truly believed that other than poetry, Fan Xian had reached the level of Guo Jingming in other areas.
This was because the old man's surname was Zhuang, and his name was Mohan.
There were no servants in the room, nor was there a page boy. Only the old man, wearing a loose robe, continued to copy. Occasionally, he would frown and stare at the paper, flipping through the pages beside him, as if looking for some sort of confirmation. Compared to last year in the Kingdom of Qing, Zhuang Mohan's spirit seemed to be much worse. Although his silver hair was still tightly bound, the age spots on his cheeks had become more pronounced, revealing some sort of inauspicious sign.
Fan Xian did not want to disturb him, so he quietly walked behind him and cast his gaze on the table. He was surprised to find that on the table was the Banxianzhai poetry collection from Danbo Bookstore! And on the margins of the poetry collection, who knew how many notes had been written. Could it be that this master of literature was writing notes for the poetry collection he had "memorized"?
Zhuang Mohan's withered finger pointed at the second half of the line in the collection: "Those who have seen the ocean cannot be water; those who have not seen Mount Wu are not clouds." He kept tapping the page, his lips slightly parted, and with some pain, he said, "It doesn't make sense, it doesn't make sense. There is only the beauty of words. The second half of the line doesn't make sense, it really doesn't make sense. Tell me, what does it mean?"
...
...
After a moment of silence, Fan Xian's gentle voice rang out, "Mount Wu is a sacred mountain in the extreme south. It is surrounded by clouds all year round, clouds at dawn, and rain at dusk. Anyone who has seen this scenery and this cloud will not be bothered to look at any other white fog in the world. These two words are the second half of the line, purely speaking of emotional loyalty."
"So that's how it is..." Zhuang Mohan smiled bitterly and pointed at a thick book in the corner of the large table. "Of course I could guess what it meant, but I couldn't find it. Flipping through this book, I couldn't find the cloudy Mount Wu. So it is a sacred mountain in the extreme south. No wonder I didn't know about it."
Fan Xian saw that Zhuang Mohan did not suspect that he was making things up, and knew that this old man was a very gentle and tolerant person. So he smiled and stepped forward to grind the ink. He watched as Zhuang Mohan copied his explanation into the blank spaces of the book in small, meticulous characters. Zhuang Mohan's regular script was famous throughout the world, and its purity was second to none. But looking at it today, Fan Xian could not help but sigh. The old man's hands were trembling a little.
"The Prince of Chen used to hold banquets and drink wine, without restraint... what's the story behind this?" Zhuang Mohan did not look at him and continued to ask.
Fan Xian felt awkward. When he was publishing the poetry anthology, he had specifically deleted Li Bai's "Bringing in the Wine". Why was this old man asking him?
Zhuang Mohan sighed. "Ever since I was a child, I have a photographic memory. I can't help but be proud of myself. That day, you recited poetry like a river, and I couldn't help but feel a little hurt..." The old man laughed at himself. "But it was thanks to this ability that I could remember so many of your poems. Later, when the Banxianzhai Poetry Anthology was published, I found that many of them were missing. I don't know what you were thinking, child."
Hearing Zhuang Mohan call him child, Fan Xian felt a strange feeling in his heart. He coughed twice and explained, "The Prince of Chen was a prince with the surname Cao. He once held a banquet in Pingguang..."
"A prince with the surname Cao?" Zhuang Mohan raised his head. His cloudy eyes carried a trace of self-confidence. "But... for a thousand years, there has never been a royal family with the surname Cao."
Fan Xian sighed in his heart and tried to persuade him. "I'm just spouting nonsense. You don't have to worry about it."
"That won't do!" Zhuang Mohan was stubborn in certain areas. He flipped through all the poems he had written by hand and pointed to one of them. "In the middle is little Xie Youqingfa. Who is this little Xie?"
Fan Xian's face alternated between green and white. After a while, he replied, "Little Xie was a scholar who wrote stories. Although his writings were crude and could not be passed down, he had some fame in the marketplace."
"Then..."
...
...
After some time, when Fan Xian felt that he had run out of things to say and had lost interest in life, Zhuang Mohan finally sighed. He rubbed the corner of his eyes and threw his brush into the inkstone. He said with some sadness, "I've run out of oil. I can't compare to when I was a scholar."
After entering the room, the two of them did not greet each other. They threw themselves into this somewhat absurd task until now. Fan Xian rolled up his sleeves and bowed politely. "Greetings, Master Zhuang. I don't know why you've summoned me here."
The room became quiet. After a long time, Zhuang Mohan suddenly trembled, and with great difficulty, he bowed deeply to Fan Xian.
Fan Xian was so shocked that he forgot to help him up. What kind of person was this old man? He was the grandmaster of the Emperor of Northern Qi. Why would he come to pay his respects?
Zhuang Mohan had already straightened up. His wrinkled face was full of smiles. "It's been a year since we met last year in the Kingdom of Qing. I've always been virtuous. Last year, I framed Master Fan in the Kingdom of Qing, and I've felt uneasy ever since. I've asked you to come here today to make amends."
...
...
Fan Xian was silent. Of course, he knew that Zhuang Mohan had accepted the Eldest Princess's request. He had given up decades of face and traveled thousands of miles to the south to be a villain. It was all for the sake of Xiao En's release. This was brotherly love — what Fan Xian lacked the most.
"Xiao En is dead." Fan Xian looked at the old man in front of him, who had suddenly become much thinner in the past year. His thin lips parted slightly, and these four words came out.
Zhuang Mohan looked at him with a smile, but said nothing.
Fan Xian also smiled, knowing that he was being unnecessary. After all, Zhuang Mohan was an old Taoist who had been in the world for decades. He had deep roots in the Kingdom of Northern Qi. How could he not know of this major event?
"Everyone has to die." Zhuang Mohan's words seemed to be for himself to hear, but also seemed to be for Fan Xian to hear. "So if you live, you must live well. The way my brother has lived is meaningless. He killed countless people, and in the end, he ended up like this..."
Fan Xian didn't quite agree with this saying. "In this world, murder and arson are golden belts. Repairing bridges and paving roads leaves no corpses."
Zhuang Mohan shook his head. "Don't be that kind of person."
It wasn't that he couldn't, but that he didn't want to. If any outsider were to stand in this room and hear the conversation between Zhuang Mohan and Fan Xian, and see their natural and unpretentious expressions, they would feel a little strange. The difference in life experience between these two people was too great, and the only time they had met was because of a conspiracy. Yet these two people could use the most direct words to express their attitudes.
Perhaps this was the so-called power of books.
"Why not?" There was a chill between Fan Xian's brows.
"I'm very confident." Zhuang Mohan suddenly laughed, but there was a deep sadness hidden in his smile. "I'm confident that I'm much happier than my brother."
Fan Xian stared into his eyes. "But you should know that if it weren't for Xiao En, perhaps you would never have obtained the position you have today."
Zhuang Mohan stared back at him. "But you still don't know. When death gradually approaches, you will realize that power, status, and wealth are all just fleeting clouds."
Fan Xian replied calmly and stubbornly, "No, when death comes, perhaps you will regret this life. You haven't experienced anything, you haven't enjoyed anything. You only already have something in this life that normal people will never be able to have. That is why when Hua Lao passed away, you had some thoughts."
Zhuang Mohan shook his head helplessly. "You are still young. You have never smelled the deepening smell of death around you day after day. How would you know what you will think when the time comes?"
"I know," Fan Xian repeated somewhat mechanically. "Believe me, I know that feeling."
Zhuang Mohan seemed to be a little tired, and he didn't want to continue this topic. He changed the subject. "I didn't think that the person who could write such a rebellious text as Story of the Stone would still be my own filthy work."
Fan Xian laughed bitterly. "I also didn't think that such a thing as a rumor could fly faster than a bird."
Zhuang Mohan's eyes suddenly revealed a trace of concern. "Master Fan, when you return home, you must be careful. Story of the Stone... has many taboos."
Fan Xian was silent. He also knew this, but in his youth, he had been frivolous. He couldn't bear to lose the opportunity for those words to appear in this world, so he had casually written them. Now that he was in officialdom, he naturally understood that if someone wanted to find innuendo in them, it would be all too easy. Furthermore, there was a coincidence in this matter that shocked even Fan Xian, so he had no choice but to be cautious. It was a pity that the Emperor of Northern Qi was also a fan of romance, so this matter couldn't be hidden any longer.
But Zhuang Mohan shouldn't be so concerned about him. This was what Fan Xian was puzzled about.
Zhuang Mohan seemed to guess what he was thinking. He smiled. "Master Fan, I invited you here today not only to apologize for my selfishness, but also to thank you."
"Thank you?" Fan Xian frowned. He didn't think that Zhuang Mohan knew that he had extended Xiao En's life by a day.
"I thank you on behalf of all the scholars in the world." Zhuang Mohan looked at him with a smile. "Master Fan, when you first entered the Overwatch Council, you exposed the fraud of the Kingdom of Qing's imperial examinations. This matter affected the world, and even His Majesty wanted to reform the imperial examinations. Master's actions will benefit many poor scholars. Perhaps you do not think much of me, but on behalf of all the scholars of the world, I must thank you."
Fan Xian's lips curled up in a self-deprecating smile. "Exposing fraud? That's the business of scholars. Is there a need for thanks? "
But Zhuang Mohan did not smile. His turbid eyes were a little lifeless. He had not done much to bring Xiao En back to the country this time. The most important thing was that he did not want this matter to cause the entire court to descend into chaos. But he knew that this world was not made up entirely of scholars. There were politicians, schemers, and martial artists. Their methods of handling matters were sometimes more direct and wilder.
He looked at Fan Xian. He was about to say something, but then he remembered that this was, after all, Northern Qi's internal affairs. There was no need to say anything to him.
...
...
After a long time, Fan Xian left the courtyard where Zhuang Mohan lived. He never returned for the rest of his life.
— — — —
Summer arrived. Although the hottest days of the year should have long since passed, Northern Qi was located in the northeast of the continent. Autumn was particularly hot and humid, and the drizzling rain that was common in late spring and early summer had long since disappeared. Only the bright, white sun hung overhead, frivolously and fiercely forcing people to take off their clothes until they couldn't.
Outside the southern gate of Shangjing, a bright yellow carriage disappeared through the gate, and the old, greenish-gray city wall immediately became the most conspicuous thing in the eyes of the people outside the city.
Fan Xian narrowed his eyes as he looked in that direction. He felt uneasy. The Emperor had personally come to see off the Qing diplomatic mission. This was completely against the rules. No matter how the Northern Qi officials tried to dissuade him, they couldn't stop him. So they had no choice but to send a large number of high-ranking officials and powerful officials. Even the Grand Tutor had come out of the city to see them off, giving the Qing diplomatic mission enough face.
Earlier, the Emperor and Fan Xian had been holding hands and chatting about everyday things, constantly thinking about the Story of the Stone and the like. Who knew how many gazes they had attracted — with great difficulty, they had finally managed to get this somewhat eccentric Emperor to leave. Outside the city were only the officials of Northern Qi and the ceremonial guards. Fan Xian glanced around and saw Wei Hua, but he did not see Chang Ninghou or Shen Zhong.
He felt his back was drenched. He didn't know if it was because of the Emperor's fright or the sun.
The auspicious hour had not yet arrived, so the diplomatic mission could not leave. He looked at the most magnificent carriage in front of the group. The Great Princess of Northern Qi was in it. He had only glanced at her from a distance. He could vaguely see that she was a beautiful noble, but he didn't know what her personality was like. But Fan Xian wasn't worried about the return trip. After the incident with Haitang, Fan Xian was more confident in his ability to get along with women.
A cool breeze swept past, and Fan Xian immediately relaxed. He tugged at the buttons on his clothes, thinking, How could there be such a gentle breeze in this terrible weather? He turned his head and, as expected, Wang Qinian was next to him, waving his fan in a fawning manner. His face was full of sadness and reluctance.
Fan Xian couldn't help but burst out laughing. "It's only been a year. Why are you so sad? I'll take care of your wife and children. Don't worry. "
With the diplomatic mission leaving, Yan Bingyun naturally had to follow them back home. As a result, the Overwatch Council of Qing's spy network in Northern Qi was suddenly without a leader. So the Overwatch Council decided to have Wang Qinian stay in Shangjing as the Minister of the Grand Herald Temple of Qing's permanent residence in Northern Qi. He would temporarily take charge of matters in the north, and in half a year, the Council would secretly send officials to take over.
As Commissioner, Fan Xian's status in the Council was special. Matters like this did not need to go through the formalities of the yamen in the capital, so it was easily settled. But Wang Qinian hadn't expected that he would not be returning with the diplomatic mission. He couldn't help but feel uneasy and disappointed. Although he knew that this experience would greatly benefit his future promotion, he still felt a little uneasy.
"Sir, if I don't listen to you for a day, I feel uneasy all over." Wang Qinian looked at Fan Xian reluctantly.
Fan Xian smiled. "Don't get into conflict with Northern Qi. Be wise and play it safe. In a year's time, I'll welcome you in the capital." In truth, he was used to having such a sidekick at his side. Most importantly, Wang Qinian was his only trusted aide in the Council. Unfortunately, because he had to prepare to deal with the Eldest Princess's money channel, he had no choice but to stay in Northern Qi.
...
...
While they were talking, a horse suddenly came out of the city gate. The person on the horse was not an official, but was dressed like a servant. He couldn't help but attract the attention of the officials. They thought to themselves, why would the Yamen of the nine cities of Shangjing let a commoner come here?
Fan Xian's eyes were sharp, and he saw that the face of the grand tutor, who stood at the head of the group, darkened, and his eyes showed sorrow.
The horse rode directly to the front of the group, and the servant on the horse fell off. With a sobbing voice, he moved closer to the grand tutor and said something. He handed the grand tutor a roll of cloth, and then pointed to the city gate behind them.
The grand tutor's body swayed. He didn't know what had happened, but he looked at the carriage slowly approaching from the city gate and shook his head sorrowfully. He turned his head to glance at Fan Xian, but his eyes were filled with surprise.
He took a deep breath and then walked toward Fan Xian. Fan Xian didn't know what had happened. He nervously dismounted and went to greet him. He accepted the roll of cloth the grand tutor handed him and nervously opened it. He saw that it was a collection of poems. On the pages were a few words written in slightly meandering old handwriting.
"Banxianzhai Poetry Collection: Notes by Lao Zhuang."
The grand tutor looked at the silent Fan Xian with mixed feelings and said, "This was given to you by Sir." Speaking to this point, his tone couldn't help but carry a deep sorrow and heaviness.
"Sir Zhuang … has gone."
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