WSMTATMC C49

Chapter 49

“At last…ugh—if this went on I’d have left my life on the road…ugh. This place is so remote, even the barbarians of old would fail to find it. Your father truly found a lonely spot!”

“Forgive us, Master. I’ve let you suffer,” said young Chen Qinghuai, face pale as paper, bowing his head with guilt.

This long road had tortured both master and pupil who rarely traveled. Especially poor Liang Boqing, who grew so dizzy in the carriage he nearly vomited out his life along the way.

When at last the entourage halted at the Chen gate, attendants knocked. The porter Linzi peered suspiciously. “Who is it you seek?”

One servant drew out a sealed letter. “I am retainer of Lord Chen Jing. By his orders, I escort his son and Master Liang to the ancestral home.”

At once Linzi hurried inside. Soon Madam Li and Aunt Chen Rong both came forth to greet them.

“Qinghuai!”

“First Aunt, Third Aunt!” The boy bowed reverently to the two elder women.

“And you still remember us! My child, how tall you’ve grown. Quickly, come in—you must be weary from the journey!”

“It was tolerable,” he muttered.

Madam Li then noticed the slender middle-aged man behind him. “And this, surely, is the Master Liang your father spoke of in his letter?”

Liang saluted. “Greetings to the two ladies.”

“Master, no need for formality. Please, inside.”

Within the hall, Madam Li pressed Qinghuai for news.

“Father and Mother took my younger siblings with them to Shanzhou. Once they are settled, they’ll write back.”

“I’ve not seen your mother in over a decade,” sighed Madam Li. “When she last came, she was with child and could not travel. Who knows when next we meet…”

Aunt Chen added softly, “Indeed. Since your father’s appointment we hardly met. I’ve near forgotten her face.”

The two ladies thus indulged in long sighs and recollections. On the side poor Liang Boqing had no patience for such endless chatter—so, with sudden roll of eyes, he simply collapsed back feigning faint.

“Ah?! Master Liang—what is it? Quick, fetch the doctor!”

Physician was summoned. After a check, he declared: “Merely exhaustion. Master is frail. He must rest well.”

At once, Madam Li ordered soup boiled and the house hushed.

After all left, Liang cracked open one eye. “Gone yet?”

“Master—you feigned illness again?” asked Qinghuai helplessly.

“I could bear no more of their prattling! Where is that cousin of yours?”

“Elder Cousin is at the estate. He returns tomorrow.”

“Were it not for the curiosity of sizing up that lad praised to Heaven by your father, I’d never have come this far. We’ll see if he is horse or mule when he stands before me.”

Qinghuai said firmly, “My cousin is truly outstanding. He passed tongsheng at fourteen. Had he not been framed, he would long since have become licentiate.”

Liang snorted. “To pass xiucai is nothing. Even juren at second tier, many are useless waste.”

Qinghuai bit back a retort—mindful that his own father’s degree was precisely Second Tier 37th place.

Meanwhile at the estate, Qingyan and Wang Ying worked on their new courtyard house. The walls had risen days ago; now they paved the yard.

Because the estate lay near the mountain, for safety’s sake Wang Ying had the back hill fenced with tall wooden posts, like palisade, to block wild beasts.

Furniture too had been finished. The master chamber held no bed but a flame‑bed (kang)—as in later generations’ peasant homes: a stone platform, hollow channel beneath linking to a stove. Burning firewood within, the bed retained warmth till dawn.

Villagers flocked to see, marveling at such wonders—for few had beds that could burn warm! Once dried and laid with mats, the platform stayed toasty a whole night. Many old folk resolved to build imitations when they went home.

Qingyan’s beloved six‑sided pavilion too had been raised. Inside, stone table and stools awaited, perfect for reading or sipping tea midst blossoms.

After half a day’s effort, the courtyard nearly complete, they sat to dine. But at noon Ershun brought word: “Your cousin Qinghuai and his Master have arrived.”

Hurriedly they arranged chambers, airing fresh bedding. Courtesy demanded no lapse—especially since Uncle’s letter warned that Liang was odd‑tempered.

By morning, the couple returned to town.

Yet when they entered, neither youth nor teacher was in sight.

“Didn’t they arrive yesterday?” Qingyan wondered.

Madam Li explained: “At dawn, Master Liang dragged Qinghuai out—to see the town, he said. After a night’s sleep, he was lively as a dragon. A peculiar man indeed.”

In truth, Liang simply hungered. Yesterday he had faked illness, so supper was light and plain. Now his tongue longed for flavor. In a street shop, tasting wontons, he spat: “Gah! Sand in the mince nearly broke my teeth!”

The stallwife only smiled. “Forgive me, sir. Next bowl will be clean.”

Couldn’t rage at a smiling woman. He shoved the bowl to Qinghuai. “You finish. I’ll buy a sweet cake.”

Accustomed to such, Qinghuai wolfed the bowl, paid the bill, and trotted after.

By noon, they returned. Liang now strode solemn, chin up, hands clasped behind his back, surveying the Chen courtyard with weighty eyes. Were it not for the sprig of coriander leaf stuck in his beard, he might have seemed daunting.

Qingyan and Wang Ying stepped forward to bow. “Your unworthy nephew Chen Qingyan, with spouse Wang Ying, greets Master Liang.”

Qinghuai hiccoughed, burping from excess food. “Cousin, Cousin‑in‑law.”

After courtesy, Liang wasted no time. “Do you still read daily?”

Startled, Qingyan answered, “Yes, sir. Never a day without three hours’ study.”

Liang nodded faintly. And quoting Mencius, murmured: “The self‑degraded I cannot converse with; the self‑abandoned I cannot employ.” At least the lad had not abandoned himself after disgrace.

Inside, Liang tested his learning—quotations from Four Books, Five Classics. Most Qingyan parried well, though on deeper points he faltered. After all, deprived of a proper tutor, his progress was remarkable.

At last Qingyan confessed lowly: “Master, you know of my fate. I can never sit for examination again…”

Liang nodded. “Yes—your uncle already confided. Know, I too share such fate. In you, I see the shadow of myself.”

“You also, sir?”

“Perhaps you heard my name—of Yangzhou, once one of the famed ‘Ten Talents of Jiangnan’: Liang Liufang.”

Qingyan’s eyes widened in disbelief. This was him! He had indeed heard the legend of that brilliant youth, undone by charges of cheating.

Seeing the recognition, Liang sighed heavily. “Enough of old wounds. I hear you live now on the estate? Far from here?”

“Yes…not far.”

“I prefer not to lodge within this household of widows and divorcees—it would not be seemly. Better your villa.”

Sensing hesitation, Wang Ying stepped forward, describing: “Our estate lies forty li from here, ringed by mountains and streams. The villagers are our tenants, all kindly. The new villa is spacious, and behind there flows a warm spring—winter baths banish chill.”

Hearing of vegetables green even in frost, Liang’s eyes gleamed. He slapped his thigh. “There! To the estate we go!”

Ying laughed. “If Master requires anything, we may purchase before we leave.”

“Only food enough. I need no more. My head—there lies all the books of a capital library.”

Thus after meal, all boarded carts for the Chen estate.

On the way, Liang beckoned Qingyan into his carriage.

“Boy, you know they accused me of cheating. Fewer know: later, the court actually granted me chance to sit again.”

Qingyan jerked upright, smacking his head on the beam. “Then—why did you not?”

“Why, indeed. I was young, rash. I once wrote a verse defying emperors—so when summoned again, I scorned the offer.”

Qingyan: “…”

“Looking back—it was folly. In truth, what is scholarship for? ‘Train your skills, and serve the emperor’s house.’ So simple. To spread one’s philosophy, first attain rank. Who listens to a failed licentiate?”

His bluntness shocked but rang true.

“These years, I roamed. Saw my clumsier classmates become great masters. I regret, oh regret…”

“Now I wish to take pupils. To spread what brilliance I have left. Of many, you have no special genius—but your character endures. I’ll take you with Qinghuai. I’ll raise your name again—perhaps even back into the exams.”

So proud he was, that of countless who sought him, he refused all. But friendship with Chen Jing, and a glimpse of this youth’s honesty, swayed him.

On the jolting cart, Qingyan fell to his knees. Three full kowtows struck. “I, Qingyan, am willing to acknowledge you as my Master!”

“Up, up. This counts not. Wait till official rites—with meat and wine—and then we shall call it so!”

Qingyan: “…”

notes

: Mengzi, Lilou chapter – phrase used to condemn men who abandon themselves, meaning Liang was testing whether Qingyan possessed resilience.