Central Plains Confucian Temple.
On the steps, old Master Li stole a moment from his busy schedule to smoke Dried Tobacco.
The weather was somewhat stifling. Summer sunlight spilled across the human world like warmed wine.
A scrawny old man came scurrying over from the corridor. The Gentlemen and Virtuous People he passed all addressed him as Sage of Literature. Each time, the old man nodded vigorously without slowing down. He sat beside the steps, gave old Master Li a thumbs-up, and said with a grin, "Loyal and righteous! Thanks."
Old Master Li waved away the smoke. "In a Temple of Literature packed with sages and worthies, I merely spoke a fair word, yet I received thanks for it. What kind of reasoning is that?"
The old scholar chuckled. "You are a famously tight-lipped gourd, hard to deal with. Wasn't I just making conversation? Why did you take it seriously?"
Old Master Li asked doubtfully, "Such a grand occasion—why didn't you hurry over to join the festivities?"
The old scholar gave a dry laugh and said nothing of the reason.
After a moment of silence, old Master Li tapped his pipe against the steps. "In the height of summer, does Sage of Literature Teacher wish to hear a few words of winter?"
The old scholar immediately raised a hand. "Don't say them! I won't listen!"
Old Master Li went on regardless. "With nothing to rely on and empty hands, you forcibly carved out a brand-new realm. There was another sky beyond. It was not easy."
The old scholar hurriedly tried to stop him. "Enough, enough. Save the latter half for later. On such a fine day, old Li, don't go talking bad luck and spoiling my mood. If you dare spoil my mood, I'll dare ruin your private stash of