An Essay That Decided the World

Chapter 2: An Essay That Decided the World

Old Scholar had somehow come over and stopped beside him. This sweeping essay had taken barely ten minutes to write; there were still nearly five minutes left before a quarter-hour had passed, enough time for Old Scholar to finish reading it.

Who would have thought that after standing beside him for a moment, Old Scholar would cough and quietly say, "There's a typo."

"Damn it, simplified characters, get lost!" Zi Bofeng hurriedly added a few more strokes, cold sweat pouring down his face.

Only then did Old Scholar nod in satisfaction. Now, this essay truly could not have a single stroke altered.

Zi Bofeng smugly swayed his head, tucked the brush between his lips, and looked around.

It was just like the examination halls in his memories.

Some wrote with furious speed, some frowned in deep thought, some regretted too late, some were jubilant, some looked as if they bore deep hatred and bitter grievances. There was no one sleeping soundly, though there had been one earlier; he had gotten up now.

Seeing Zi Bofeng turn his head, a scholar at the neighboring desk raised a thumb at him and mouthed, "Brother, impressive!"

It truly was impressive. He had slept for half the exam, then upon waking had written furiously, finishing in one breath. That kind of spirit and skill was not something ordinary people possessed.

Of course. Your brother here had knowledge, culture, brains, and ideas! Zi Bofeng gladly accepted the fellow scholar's praise.

Zi Bofeng was still smiling as he handed in his paper. With both hands tucked into his sleeves, he was about to leave when someone patted his shoulder. "Brother, you forgot something!"

Only then did Zi Bofeng realize that examination halls in ancient times required one to bring one's own brushes and ink as well...

By the time Zi Bofeng packed up his brush, ink, and inkstone, everyone around him had already left. When he emerged from inside with crablike steps, he saw his father, Zi Jian, leaning against his shoulder pole and wooden buckets at the back of the crowd, anxiously looking in every direction.

Little Stone sat on Zi Jian's shoulders, craning his thin neck and swaying his head as he looked around. The moment he saw Zi Bofeng emerge from behind the crowd, he immediately cried out, "He's out! He's out!"

"Dad!" Zi Bofeng waved his sleeve and quickened his pace toward them.

That hollow thwack from Old Scholar had fused Zi Bofeng's memories together, stripping this world of its unfamiliarity. It was like going from one familiar city to another familiar city, from one family of relatives to another.

There was no sense of estrangement at all; there was only novelty in abundance.

Of course, along with that novelty came confusion. Confusion over exactly how he had arrived in this world.

He raised his head. The blue sky was bright, white clouds drifted leisurely, and the clear wind billowed, brushing against his robes before being caught in them, circling around him and carrying several leaves spiraling upward.

He lowered his head. Blue Stone paved the ground, green grass poked through the cracks, and square-toed cloth shoes hid beneath his robes. His robe had been washed very clean. This was what they called a green scholar's gown, wasn't it?

When he raised his head again, he met his father's hopeful gaze as Zi Jian repeatedly asked, "How was it? How was it?"

"Easy as taking something from my hand!" Zi Bofeng proudly struck a muscle-flexing pose, then looked at his father.

Zi Jian had been betrothed at fourteen, married at sixteen, and become Zi Bofeng's father the following year. Even now, he was only a little over thirty. In Zi Bofeng's understanding, the early thirties were an age when a man was neither quite ripe nor unripe: the urge to play had only just faded. Some had already built families and careers, while others still wandered about in a muddle.

Yet the man before him already wore a face full of life's hardships, with streaks of white even at his temples. Zi Bofeng still did not know what he himself looked like, but judging by the man before him, they did resemble father and son from his previous life. He was of average build, neither particularly strong nor so weak that a gust of wind could knock him over. There were no wrinkles on his forehead yet, but the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes carved deeply toward his temples. Whenever he smiled, it was like a peacock spreading its magnificent tail.

So this was his father.

Zi Jian was also studying his son.

For some reason, he felt that something was different. That face which had always been stern seemed to have melted open, making him feel that when his son smiled, it was utterly pure—a smile that surely came straight from the bottom of his heart.

"That's good, that's good." Zi Jian smiled as well. Zi Bofeng felt someone tugging at the hem of his clothes. Looking down, he saw Little Stone pulling at his robe. When Little Stone saw him look over, he hurriedly shrank back and said, "Brother, I washed my hands clean. I didn't dirty your clothes..."

Little Stone's face had clearly been carefully washed. His little hands and face, which had always been blackened and grimy before, were now fair and clean. Yet the way he looked at Zi Bofeng was still timid, as though he feared Zi Bofeng would scold him.

Zi Bofeng smiled and rubbed his head. Little Stone shrank back a little, then looked up and held out a packet of buns.

"Brother... big buns from He Xiang Ju..." As he spoke, he swallowed a mouthful of saliva and shrank back again.

"You must be hungry. Hurry and eat." Zi Jian said, "We bought them and waited here all this time. You finally came out."

The fragrant, steaming buns were wrapped in lotus leaves and cradled in Little Stone's small hands, their scent rushing into his nostrils.

"Brother, I didn't sneak any..." Little Stone lowered his head again when he saw Zi Bofeng looking at him.

This little fellow feared neither heaven nor earth. Every day he ran wild through the mountains and fields, daring to climb mountains to steal wolf cubs and dive into the water to catch big fish. Yet the only thing he feared was Zi Bofeng glaring at him.

In the past, Zi Bofeng had always gone on and on to Little Stone about the benefits of reading and writing, then forced him to study. But Little Stone's heart had never been in it, and to avoid studying, he had been willing to do anything.

Over time, Little Stone had grown more and more afraid of Zi Bofeng, terrified that he would be lectured again.

But now, when Zi Bofeng recalled how he had treated Little Stone in the past, he felt that he had been terribly excessive.

He reached out, wanting to rub Little Stone's closely shaved scalp, which showed a bluish tint. Little Stone shrank his neck, squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and looked like a startled chick.

Only after a long while did he realize that his brother's large hand was gently stroking his head. He opened his eyes and looked at his brother's face from beneath that hand. Then he grinned broadly and raised the bun in his hand. "Brother, eat a bun!"

What answered him was Zi Bofeng's figure suddenly enlarging before his eyes.

"Bofeng! Bofeng!" Zi Jian's cries, along with Little Stone's terrified wails, echoed by his ears before gradually fading away.

Zi Bofeng swayed twice, then fell to the ground with a thud.

"Wuwu, Brother..." Little Stone's crying gradually faded away. Light seemed to flow before Zi Bofeng's eyes. He felt himself drifting upward, then passing through a long corridor.

The walls on either side of that corridor were like movie screens, displaying everything from his past.

On one side was an uneventful journey through elementary school, middle school, high school, and university, followed by the life of a college student who slept until he woke naturally, played games until his hands cramped, and lived every day in a haze where heaven and earth seemed turned upside down.

On the other side was a poor boy with a fate beset by hardships. He had lost his mother at birth, fled his home because of flooding, and eventually settled in a small mountain village after much wandering. Yet he remained impoverished, longing to change his fate.

Those two sets of memories were like two parallel lines, never intersecting as they stretched toward infinity.

Zi Bofeng raised his head. Beyond those two curtains of light were countless more lines, stretching crisscross across the black vault of the heavens. Though they looked chaotic and without pattern, no two lines intersected.

Every line seemed to be a different memory.

Only the memories of these two Zi Bofengs ran parallel to one another, like the same person in two parallel worlds.

Suddenly, the pitch-black sky shattered violently, like a piece of porcelain smashed into countless fragments. Every fragment dragged innumerable threads behind it as it scattered in all directions.

Everything had become chaos. Everything had scattered.

Yet one fragment, carrying a faint blue glow, flew toward Zi Bofeng where he stood. Zi Bofeng looked up and watched helplessly as the fragment fell straight into the spot between his brows.

In that instant, Zi Bofeng seemed to produce a powerful attraction. Those two parallel memories were like ribbons sucked into a fan, instantly winding around each other.

Zi Bofeng understood that these were not actually his memories, but the memories of that "fragment." It had merely happened to pass through the gap between the two memories and stirred them together, making him the Zi Bofeng he was now. He himself was not here at all; everything was merely reconstructed through his imagination.

For what had been entangled together was not only the memories of the two Zi Bofengs, but also that blue fragment.

Zi Bofeng shuddered, and the scene before him changed again.

There were no longer countless threads, nor fragments filling the sky. Zi Bofeng found himself within a sea of blue light.

It was like the time before heaven and earth had opened, a chaos with neither sky nor land, only blue radiance shining.

This was inside the blue fragment.

Heaven and earth were a jug of wine. The Porcelain Shard had not yet fallen; it was still on the jug, and they were the wine.

The entire world had originally been orderly, but at some unknown point, it had shattered into countless fragments. One of those fragments had fused with him.

Then the world changed again.

Clear qi rose, becoming the sun, moon, stars, clouds, rosy mists, and clearing fogs that filled the sky. Turbid qi sank, becoming the thick earth and land. Then heaven and earth gradually evolved, giving birth to flowers, birds, insects, fish, and humankind living out their days. Flowers and birds later became demons, humans cultivated immortality, and after that, immortals and demons went to war. The demons were slaughtered to the last, while the immortals seized the creations of heaven and earth, built the Heavenly Palace, established empires, and became unmatched within the Four Pillars Divine Mountain. As the saying went, prosperity at its peak must decline. The immortals, whose demands knew no bounds, became extravagantly depraved. The spiritual energy of heaven and earth gradually thinned, no new people could become immortals, and those capable of cultivation dwindled to almost none. Emperors sat withered upon their thrones, while the common people below could no longer survive...

In an instant, hundreds of millions of years passed.

Then Zi Bofeng woke up.

He wanted to speak, but his throat was as dry and painfully rough as coarse sandpaper. His limbs were weak and powerless, as if he had been crushed by a hundred elephants.

"Brother! Brother!" Little Stone's voice came. "Uncle, Brother woke up!"

Then Zi Jian's voice reached him. "Bofeng, drink some water!"

After much fussing, it was only after a full half-hour that Zi Bofeng finally had the strength to sit up from the bed.