Graceful Student Zhu, Like the Sun in the East

Master Song kept his expression unchanged and said, "Passable." He had Wang Chong sit down, then resumed the lesson.

The children in the class lacked the learning to follow along. One by one, they listened to Song Gonglian continue explaining the Commentary on the Six Kingdoms with furrowed brows.

Class Ding had only one lesson a day. Once the morning class ended, there was nothing to do in the afternoon.

After Song Gonglian finished teaching, he dismissed the students and hurried off to find the headmaster.

Xun Fa, headmaster of Egret Academy, was a great Confucian scholar of the age, with disciples and old friends spread beneath the heavens. Seeing Song Gonglian arrive in high spirits, he smiled lightly. "Gonglian, what has made you so delighted?"

Song Gonglian replied, "Is it not a joy to find an intelligent child and teach him?"

Xun Fa was slightly taken aback. "Where would Class Ding find an intelligent child?"

Song Gonglian smiled. "Does the headmaster not know that a prodigy has come to our academy?"

Though Xun Fa was the headmaster of Egret Academy, he did not concern himself with mundane affairs. A mere young boy like Wang Chong coming to seek an education was hardly enough to alert this great scholar of the age. Hearing this, he smiled. "Has one of the new students shown great promise?"

Song Gonglian hastily told him of Wang Chong reciting the Commentary on the Six Kingdoms from memory in class, then said, "Such a prodigy ought to enter Class C."

Xun Fa found this most curious. "Have the child come to me tomorrow. I will personally test his studies. If his learning is truly sufficient, he may enter Class C."

Having recommended Wang Chong, Song Gonglian hesitated for a moment before he could not help asking, "What were that black cloud in broad daylight, and Master Xiao's origins?"

Xun Fa sighed. "The Master did not speak of strange forces and disorderly spirits."

Sure enough, Song Gonglian said no more. He raised a hand slightly and departed with easy grace.

Egret Academy provided only two meals, morning and evening, with no midday meal. After class, Little Bug had intended to return to his lodging in the storeroom and continue memorizing his texts when flashes of inspiration suddenly burst through his mind. An inscription shone with brilliant light.

This inscription was utterly different from the one that controlled the ancient bronze ring. It was deep and somber, vast and unbroken, surging and boundless, with a mighty force no one could withstand. It generated a power that sought to draw the boy out of the academy, though the pull was weak enough to resist.

Little Bug hesitated slightly, but he was still a boy at heart, and curiosity won out. Following the power produced by the inscription, he strolled as if riding in a carriage and leisurely left the academy.

White Foothill City had been built against the mountain, and Egret Academy stood at the foot of White Egret Mountain. Not far beyond the academy lay White Egret Mountain.

Little Bug walked for nearly half an hour before the area around him became desolate hills and wild ridges, with no trace of human habitation.

Though Little Bug was bold and unafraid, he was not a reckless child. Seeing the bleak wilderness around him, he hesitated and thought to turn back.

The moment he made up his mind and lifted his foot, the inscription in his mind—that deep and somber, vast and unbroken, surging and boundless inscription with its mighty force no one could withstand—quivered slightly, flew from his mind, and landed amid the bushes.

A mass of black qi responded as though called by it, slowly rising into the air and spinning wildly above the brush.

Little Bug was somewhat speechless. This mass of black qi looks like something Old Demon Luo controlled, only much smaller. Could it be a fragment of the black cloud cut down when Master Xiao fought Old Demon Luo?

With his experience controlling the bronze ring, he silently gathered his thoughts and contemplated the inscription for a while. Then he reached out and beckoned, and the black qi indeed flew into his hand at his summons.

The black qi was soft to the touch, as though it were nothing at all. Squeeze it, and it scattered; pass it through his hand, and it flowed like water, dividing and rejoining at will.

Little Bug played with it for a moment. I wonder whether there are any others nearby.

The instant this thought arose, the inscription immediately led him straight south like a dragon startled from its winter sleep.

Knowing there was no danger, Little Bug happily set off. Before long, he found a second mass of black qi. The two masses lightly touched and became one, noticeably larger and more solid.

Little Bug was, after all, only twelve years old. Reading many books had not diminished his love of play by much.

Following the guidance of the inscription in his mind—deep and somber, vast and unbroken, surging and boundless, like a dragon startled from its winter sleep, with a mighty force no one could withstand—he ran east and west. By the time dusk brushed the sky, he had found nineteen masses of black cloud. Fused together, they were already half a mu in size, with the faint sound of wind and thunder brewing within as they swayed and surged.

Little Bug wanted to keep searching, but the inscription in his mind had fallen silent. Seeing that it was already too late, he steadied himself and headed back toward the academy.

He had walked very far that afternoon and did not know the way. It was not until midnight that he finally saw the walls of Egret Academy.

Seeing the academy gates tightly shut, Little Bug did not have the nerve to knock. He found a low section of wall, climbed over it, and hurried back to the loft above the storeroom.

Zhu Ying was lying down fully clothed. Hearing movement, he quickly reached out, seized a short sword, and shouted, "Who's there?"

Little Bug hurriedly called, "Senior Brother Zhu, don't be alarmed. It's me, back again."

Zhu Ying had not seen Wang Chong all afternoon and had thought he had temporarily left the academy on some business and would not return that night. Hearing this, he gave a soft laugh. "Why are you coming back in the middle of the night?"

He lit the oil lamp and saw that Little Bug was covered in dust, his face weary. He could not help being slightly surprised. "Where did you go to end up in such a sorry state?"

Little Bug answered, "It is embarrassing to say. I was wandering in the back hills and accidentally lost my way. I only found my way back tonight."

He was about to undress and lie down when he saw Zhu Ying's hair hanging loose, yet without the slightest trace of slovenliness. His jade-like face was lovely, his bearing elegant and refined. Little Bug could not help saying, "Brother Zhu is truly blessed with fine looks. Even Song Yu, Pan An, Wei Jie, and Zi Du of old could not have been any more handsome."

A faint blush rose to Zhu Ying's face, but he showed no annoyance. Smiling, he retorted, "You are not a man of ancient times. How would you know what Song Yu, Pan An, Wei Jie, and Zi Du looked like?"

Little Bug casually replied, "I may not know, but surely they could not compare to Brother Zhu."

Zhu Ying could not help asking, "And what do I look like?"

Little Bug casually recited, "Graceful Student Zhu, like the sun in the east; fourteen years of age, light carriage following the wind. Gentle of countenance and fond of smiling, fair of mouth and skilled in speech; thinking of this noble one, warm as jade. Your form is lovely, your garments bright; when you glance about, your spirit takes flight, peaches and plums in radiant bloom."

Color blossomed across Zhu Ying's face. Half angry, half reproachful, he said, "What utter nonsense is this?"

"I'm angry."

Little Bug froze slightly. What was wrong with Father's poetry? Why would Brother Zhu be angry?

Several years ago, his father had sent a trusted servant home with a collection of writings, along with a letter instructing, "Only Wang Chong may read this. Do not permit a second person to look at it." Wang Chong's mother had no interest in it either. She gave the collection to her son and never asked about it again.

The collection Wang Chong's father had sent back to the old residence contained more than a hundred poems and essays, along with several dozen articles. On the title page, he had written instructions that his son must memorize them thoroughly.

Little Bug had skimmed through it at the time and felt that every poem and essay within was unmatched through all ages, while every article was stunning enough to astonish the world. He guessed they had been written by his father, who feared his son might lack literary talent and had prepared a ghostwriter's stockpile for him, so that in times of need he could use them to win some fame.

He admired his father's literary talent beyond measure, yet he greatly disapproved of this matter and had resolved not to use them or covet such credit.

Now, while joking privately with Zhu Ying, he had casually recited a work praising a young man's beauty, never expecting Zhu Ying to dislike it.

Afraid of angering his friend, Little Bug hurriedly apologized. Zhu Ying, however, burst out laughing. "Unless you compose another poem. If I am satisfied with it, then I will forgive you."