Heaven moves with vigor

A student with a rather seedy face ostentatiously produced a folding fan and cupped his hands. "Ah, Brother He, Brother Fan! Your illustrious names thunder... er... in my ears! You two have blazed a trail in the institute's history and achieved feats without equal. My admiration for you is... as endless as a surging river, like floodwaters spilling over..."

Before he could finish, a tall student with acne shoved him aside and clasped his fists. "My admiration, my admiration! You two truly are models for our generation. I am Yan Su. May I ask, Brother Fan, how did you think of stealing food from the kitchens? Such a wondrous inspiration-you truly are a god among men!"

Another student, cross-eyed and dressed in a lavish long robe, desperately squeezed in beside them and craned his neck. "Brother He, are you free tonight? Let me treat you. Could you tell us the story of that fight..."

The male students crowded around He An and Fan Dazhi, every one of them brimming with excitement, their questions tumbling over one another.

Ding Wenruo sat by the window, quietly turning the pages of her book. Sunlight fell across its pages and the graceful contours of her profile, illuminating her flawless skin and the faint down upon it.

Ding Wenruo's dark brows knitted slightly, and she lightly bit her lip. Watching He An and Fan Dazhi from a distance earlier, she had seen one with swordlike brows and star-bright eyes, tall and poised, refined and handsome; the other was fair and plump, looking honest and good-natured. Neither was quite what she had imagined.

Remembering her father's instructions, she waited until the crowd around them gradually dispersed, then gathered her courage, stood up, and quietly approached.

The clamor had left He An and Fan Dazhi dizzy and dazed. They had finally persuaded everyone to leave when a lovely young woman appeared before them. Parting her red lips, she said softly, "Fellow students He and Fan, were you recommended here by Senior Brother Fang Yizhi? My father is Senior Brother Fang's teacher... He would like to meet you both. Might you be free after classes?"

Ding Wenruo was gentle, charming, and courteously approachable, and she even addressed Fang Yizhi as her senior brother. Since an elder teacher had invited them, He An and Fan Dazhi readily agreed.

Han Chanjuan sat farther back, watching all this with growing agitation. She wrinkled her delicate nose and pursed her full little lips. She had wanted to go over and greet He An for some time.

She had accidentally injured He An that day and had felt guilty ever since. After passing the assessment and entering the Knowledge and Practice Institute, she heard about his confinement and only then learned that his name was He An and that he, too, had gained admission. She planned to give him her household's best healing medicine once he came out, then treat them to a meal by way of apology.

But just as she was about to stand, she discovered that a very pretty young woman had beaten her to it and was speaking to He An. He was even nodding repeatedly like a chick pecking grain. A beauty's charms truly knew no bounds; it looked as though he had already agreed to something.

No, I do as I please. I'm not waiting anymore. Han Chanjuan swept straight over like a gust of wind.

He An had just lowered his head and opened his book when a red silk skirt appeared before him. Looking up, he saw a lovely face equally suited to smiles and scowls. Surprised and delighted, he said, "It's you... You... How are you here too?"

Seeing how flustered he was, Han Chanjuan could not help feeling immensely pleased. She smiled radiantly. "That... that day was my fault. You... please don't be angry with me anymore... all right? This is very good healing medicine. Please take it... Tonight... are you... free? I'll treat you to dinner... to apologize... You..."

Her voice grew softer and softer. Pampered from childhood, she had never apologized to anyone before and scarcely knew how to put the words together.

Understanding what she meant, He An looked somewhat troubled. "I'm really sorry, but I already promised someone else just now. Perhaps... we could..."

Seeing him stammer out a refusal, Han Chanjuan was certain he had agreed to meet that beautiful young woman. Anger rose in her for no reason, and before he could finish, she tossed the medicine bottle clenched in her hand onto his desk. "The Drunken Immortal Tower tonight. Come or don't!" With that, she turned and left like a proud peacock.

An uproar immediately erupted around them. He had barely emerged from confinement before beautiful women were inviting him out-and more than one, at that. How were the other young men supposed to bear it?

"No, I'm going to cause trouble! I want confinement too!"

"I want confinement too! Confinement brings romance!"

"Give it a rest. With that face of yours, no one would bother with you even if you were locked up for a year!"

"In all things, the first draws attention, while the second remains unknown. So I've decided: at the preliminary examination this year's end, one cry from me will make my name known throughout the world!"

Some of the male students looked indignant, some envious and jealous, some raised their arms and shouted, and some bowed their heads in thought. The classroom dissolved into a noisy jumble.

By the time classes ended, evening clouds filled the sky. He An and Fan Dazhi returned to their lodgings, tidied themselves up, and prepared to meet Ding Wenruo. After all, an elder of their teacher Fang Yizhi had summoned them; they could not be discourteous.

At the courtyard gate, they happened to encounter Bi Yunfei, and Fan Dazhi introduced the two.

Bi Yunfei cupped his hands, his face wreathed in smiles. "I've long heard of your reputation, Brother He. Today I finally have the good fortune to meet you in person. Brother Gu often mentions you two as well. He said he would treat everyone to drinks once you came out, and give you both a welcoming feast while he was at it. When might you be free? Then I can give him an answer!"

His friendly smile and sincere manner pleased He An. As both a fellow student and a roommate, Bi Yunfei was someone he would be living alongside for a long time. He cupped his hands. "Dazhi often speaks of you and Brother Gu. It's truly a pleasure to meet you today... Why haven't we seen Brother Gu?"

"Brother Gu has had a great many matters to attend to lately. He didn't come to class today and specifically asked the teacher for leave. Why don't we settle on tomorrow evening? Tomorrow, Brother Gu should..."

As the three were speaking, a man who looked like a steward approached and greeted them. "May I ask whether you are Young Master He and Young Master Fan?"

He An and Fan Dazhi nodded, and the man cheerfully cupped his hands. "My young lady ordered me to escort you both to the residence. Please board the carriage." He gestured toward a carriage nearby, and the driver slowly brought it over.

He An and Fan Dazhi bade Bi Yunfei farewell and climbed aboard. A faint fragrance of cosmetics lingered inside the spacious carriage; even seated side by side, they did not feel crowded. Pale blue crepe curtains covered the windows. A small, exquisite bamboo basket hung from a carp-shaped hook on the carriage wall, holding a cluster of golden chrysanthemums. The whole interior was plain and unadorned, yet fresh and elegant.

Bi Yunfei looked at the steward and carriage, then at He An's retreating back, an unusual expression in his eyes.

He stood quietly by the roadside until the carriage had carried them far away. Only then did he flick his robe and walk unhurriedly toward his lodgings.

The wheels rumbled, and before long the carriage stopped. The two stepped down, only to discover that they had arrived in a quiet alley off Dingding Avenue.

A few withered bamboo branches poked above the long gray-white courtyard wall. At the alley's end, green pines and cypresses rose like canopies. Farther ahead stood two black-lacquered gates, with a pair of great stone lions crouching outside. Tucked into a corner of the bustling city, the residence was quiet and still, yet carried an unmistakable air of distinction.

The steward led them through the gates. The vast courtyard beyond featured carved corridors, painted beams, and winding paths leading into secluded corners, all arranged in a distinctive style.

He led them along a cobblestone path through vegetable plots to the rear quarters. A small bamboo grove grew beneath the projecting eaves of yellow tiles and gray walls, its jointed branches hanging down from the wall like whips. Below lay a well covered in duckweed and dead leaves. Beside it stood a compact bamboo waterwheel, with thick bamboo pipes joined together and running all the way to the vegetable plots.

At a quiet room, the steward knocked gently. "Master, Young Master He and Young Master Fan have arrived!" Then he bowed his head and silently withdrew.

"Please come in!" A mellow voice sounded from within. He An gently pushed open the door. Before a long writing table, Ding Wenruo held a weasel-hair brush and was writing, while a middle-aged man stood beside her, offering guidance.

Various masters' calligraphy models lay beside the long table, along with dozens of precious inkstones and brush holders of every color, their brushes rising like a forest. To one side stood an enormous Ru-ware flower vase, filled with orchids like crystal globes.

The western wall was covered in paintings and calligraphy by famous masters. In the center hung a large Misty Rain Painting by Mi Xiangyang, flanked by a couplet in Duke Yan of Lu's own hand: "Mist and rosy clouds lend leisure to the bones; springs and stones sustain a life in the wild."

A large tripod vessel stood on a table. To its left, a red sandalwood stand held a large Cizhou-ware platter piled with dozens of delicate, bright yellow Buddha's hand citrons. To the right, a white jade chime shaped like paired flatfish hung from a lacquered stand, with a small mallet beside it. A couch stood on the eastern side, and a canopy bed was draped in pale green gauze curtains embroidered on both sides with flowers, grasses, and insects. Elsewhere, bookcases lined the walls of the spacious room. Steam curled from a tea table in the center, and the fragrance of tea filled the air.

The man looked at He An and Fan Dazhi and said warmly, "I am Ding Feiyong, Wenruo's father and Fang Yizhi's teacher. Since Yi Zhi recommended you here, I may count as your teacher too. I often hear Yi Zhi and my daughter Wenruo speak of you both. I've wanted to meet you for some time..."

The two hurriedly bowed with utmost respect. "Greetings, Teacher Ding."

Ding Feiyong nodded with a smile. "You both looked at the paintings and calligraphy as soon as you entered, and one of you could scarcely tear his eyes away. You must have some familiarity with calligraphy. I imagine you often practice by copying the masters?"

"I have practiced, but my brushwork is poor," Fan Dazhi murmured awkwardly.

Ding Feiyong turned his gaze toward He An, who answered humbly, "I would not dare wield an axe at the master carpenter's gate. My spring earthworms and autumn snakes would only offend your discerning eye!"

Ding Feiyong waved a hand with a smile. "No matter, no matter. Come, come, write something for me!" The two could only approach the table, where Ding Feiyong had already laid out two sets of brushes and ink.

After a moment's thought, He An lifted his brush and, wrist held aloft, wrote: "Heaven moves with vigor; the gentleman therefore strives unceasingly to strengthen himself. Earth's nature is receptive; the gentleman therefore bears all things with abundant virtue."

Fan Dazhi knew the man wanted to test their calligraphy, but he had not specified what they should write. So Fan Dazhi picked up a brush and casually wrote several rows of numbers: "One, two, three, four..."

Ding Wenruo quietly leaned forward beside them, unable to resist seeing their calligraphy. He An's strokes seemed to pierce the paper, carrying an indescribable force. Who would have thought that someone with such fine features and handsome looks would write so beautifully too? His writing truly mirrors the man. Then she saw what Fan Dazhi had written and could not help covering her mouth as a laugh escaped.

When they finished, Ding Feiyong examined He An's writing. Its hooks were iron and its strokes silver, its structure bold and majestic. Paired with those words, it flowed like moving clouds and running water, without the slightest discord.

Stroking his beard, he read aloud, "Heaven moves with vigor; the gentleman therefore strives unceasingly to strengthen himself. Earth's nature is receptive; the gentleman therefore bears all things with abundant virtue. Very good, very good! Ambition in your heart and skill in your hands! Good, good!"

Then he saw Fan Dazhi's work: on an enormous sheet of rice paper, he had written only a few rows of numbers in delicate, flowerlike small regular script. Ding Feiyong stroked his beard and laughed heartily. "What a lazy rascal! In calligraphy, the heart is what matters. You must learn more from our young friend He An."

Turning back to He An, Ding Feiyong continued, "People often say that writing mirrors the writer. A person's character can usually be reflected between the lines. What do you think?"

Somewhat reserved, He An replied, "I believe calligraphy expresses only one's state of mind at a particular moment. Character... I truly cannot see that in it."

"Oh... Why not explain in more detail?" With amusement in his eyes, Ding Feiyong stroked his beard and pressed him.

"Yes! I believe the graceful brushwork of the Preface to the Orchid Pavilion, the finest running-script work under heaven, arose from the boundless ease Wang, Sage of Calligraphy, felt at the time: towering mountains and lofty ridges, wine cups floating along winding water, drinking and composing poetry with friends... The dry brushwork in the Draft of a Requiem to My Nephew, however, expressed the Duke of Lu Commandery's overwhelming grief and indignation. All of this concerns the writer's state of mind at that moment, not his character!" After a little thought, He An answered respectfully.

"Good! Good! Good!" Ding Feiyong threw back his head and laughed with delight. "You embrace sound reasoning without drifting with the current. A young man worth teaching!"

He went on to test their learning, and He An and Fan Dazhi answered fluently. Some of their views even opened entirely new paths; he himself had never thought those passages could be interpreted that way. His interest stirred, he questioned them at length on philosophy, history, the classics, and literary collections.

Ding Wenruo sat quietly beside them, listening almost spellbound. The more she heard, the more astonished she became. Some of the texts her father asked about were entirely unfamiliar to her, yet the two seemed filled with scholarship and discussed them with easy assurance. Some explanations made profound ideas accessible and struck straight to the heart of the matter; she found herself listening with keen enjoyment. She had met many brilliant young men since childhood, but anyone with such learning could certainly not be ignorant and uneducated. There must have been more to their confinement than met the eye. When an opportunity arose, she would ask them properly.

Only when a crescent moon hung beneath a sky full of stars did the two leave the chancellor's residence. Ding Feiyong had wanted them to stay for dinner and then send them home by carriage, but they firmly declined.

He An was still thinking about their appointment at the Drunken Immortal Tower, while Fan Dazhi hoped to tag along for some good food. Though Ding Wenruo's father was warm and approachable, he very much resembled a teacher who was outwardly gentle but inwardly stern. If they sat across from him at dinner, Fan Dazhi would never dare wield his chopsticks freely.

They jogged through several streets. It was late now, and both the streets and the Drunken Immortal Tower had grown much quieter. Hurrying inside, they saw Han Chanjuan and the woman they had met that day sitting in a corner by the window. The dishes covering their table remained untouched.

When Han Chanjuan saw them, her frosty expression melted like a glacier, and a smile curved her lips. Waving her little hand, she called brightly, "Here, here!"

They hurried over, and He An sat down apologetically. "I'm truly sorry for the wait. Our Teacher Fang's teacher, Minister Ding of the Court of State Ceremonial, wanted to meet us. We couldn't very well decline, so we're a little late."

Han Chanjuan smiled sweetly. "It's all right, as long as you came."

The woman summoned a waiter to reheat the dishes, then said briskly, "Let's introduce ourselves first. You could say we became acquainted through a fight. My name is Xue Ning, and she is Han Chanjuan of the Han Household in Yongcheng. I came with Chanjuan while she studies at the Knowledge and Practice Institute. You're about her age, so you may call me Aunt Xue from now on."

He An nodded. "Aunt Xue, we come from Yiluo County in Chuzhou. Instructor Fang Yizhi of the Knowledge and Practice Institute taught there and recommended us both to the institute. Fortunately, we did not fail him. We both passed the assessment and became formal disciples."

Aunt Xue smiled. "That's wonderful. You can look after one another from now on. Chanjuan has been headstrong since childhood. Please forgive any offense she caused before."

A little embarrassed, Han Chanjuan flushed and said softly, "He An... I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it that day."

She took the hairpin from inside her robe, placed it before He An, and continued, "Here, I'm returning it. Since you meant to give it to someone, I can't take something you treasure."

He An accepted it. It was warm to the touch, and a delicate fragrance of cosmetics reached his nose. Then he handed it back to Han Chanjuan. "Since you like it too, please keep it as a gift."

Joy stirred in Han Chanjuan's heart, and her smile bloomed like plum blossoms in snow. "Thank you. You can call me by my name from now on too."

The waiter brought back the reheated dishes. Fan Dazhi had remained silent all this time, finding He An and Chanjuan's bashfulness amusing. At last he could not resist saying, "Can we eat now? I'm so hungry."

Aunt Xue picked up her chopsticks and invited everyone to begin. Looking at the tableful of delicacies, Fan Dazhi threw caution aside, tore off a chicken leg, and finished it in two or three bites. Then he picked up a large piece of braised fish, eating until grease coated his lips, his mouth smacking without pause.

Seeing Dazhi eat with such gusto, He An felt he was being a little impolite, considering this was their first proper meeting. He gently kicked him beneath the table, but Fan Dazhi remained oblivious and muttered through his food, "Try some. This barrel chicken is really good."

Han Chanjuan did not mind at all. Still smiling, she said, "Eat slowly. If it isn't enough, we can order more." She took a small bite herself and thought the flavor was nothing special-not even as good as what they made at home.

During the meal, Aunt Xue asked about He An's past. He An spoke of being adopted by his uncle as a child, never having seen his parents, and growing up in the countryside with Fan Dazhi. Beside him, Fan Dazhi added details between bites.

Han Chanjuan listened quietly as they spoke about their past, their hard lives and straitened circumstances. Yet He An recounted it all with a smile, as though telling someone else's story. Not a trace of resentment or indignation appeared on his face.

She had grown up in fine clothes and on exquisite food. Having experienced none of this, she could not truly share their feelings. Yet, for some reason, looking at He An's handsome face and resolute eyes, she felt an inexplicable ache in her heart...