Crossroads
Long Tian read the grass in that letter three times.
He recognized the words on the letter—neat, steady, each stroke carrying a certainty that required no repeated confirmation, like someone who had practiced for so long that their handwriting had become an unconscious, everyday action. He didn't immediately understand the phrase "Look back in the original direction" the first time he read it; the second time, he vaguely grasped its meaning; and the third time, he closed the letter, stood up, and walked out the door.
He stood for a while in the open space in front of the house. It was getting dark; the mountain shadows gradually narrowed into a black border in the twilight, and the open space was bathed in the warm yellow light leaking from the hearth, the edges of the light slowly converging on the ground. He stood there thinking for a moment, then turned and went back into the house, picking up the old leather bag from the corner and retying the straps. Yu Jin was at the stove, putting the dishes into the basin. Seeing him repacking the bag, he placed the last bowl on the shelf and asked, "Are you leaving?"
"Let's go to the Shrek Academy."
Yu Jin didn't ask any further questions. He wiped the water off his hands on a cloth, picked up his bundle from the corner and began packing his things inside. His movements were just as efficient and decisive as when he packed his bundle for the trip to the East Sea in the stone house four years ago, requiring no further explanation.
Long Tieshan sat motionless by the stove, holding fire tongs with a piece of burning firewood between the tips. He watched Long Tian tighten the leather strap, his tone as casual as when he asked "What do you want to eat?" every evening. "Shrek Academy is near Suotuo City. It's about three and a half days west of here, along the main road. Your Dragon Shadow is fine in the wild, but conceal it when you enter the city; it's too conspicuous and can cause trouble." He put the piece of firewood into the stove, and flames flickered up from the end of the twig, illuminating the old scars and calluses on the back of his hands.
Long Tian slung the leather bag over his shoulder, paused at the door frame, and glanced back at the people inside— Long Tieshan, Mu Shuang, Shen Mo, and Shen Qiu, each in their respective places. He turned his gaze back and stepped over the threshold. Yu Jin followed him out the door. The stone house door closed behind him with a dull thud, and the last ray of light in the crack narrowed to a line before disappearing completely.
The official road heading west was smoother than any they had traveled before. It was wide, with a solid roadbed, and simple pavilions for travelers to rest at regular intervals. Neat rows of trees lined the roadside, their canopies forming a continuous green corridor overhead. Long Tian traveled along this road for three and a half days. On the first day, his Dragon Shadow hovered above his shoulders during the day, its wing membranes folded into narrow strips, and the gray-gold sheen of its scales compressed to its thinnest, appearing from afar like a long, thin shadow stretched by the sunlight. On the second day, when they passed a market town, he completely pressed the Dragon Shadow against his back, shrinking it to the same layer as his clothing, leaving only a very thin base color faintly visible along his spine. Pedestrians and merchants passing by occasionally glanced at his back, but no one stopped for a second look.
On the evening of the third day, while resting at a roadside teahouse, Long Tian asked the owner for directions to the Shrek Academy. The owner, a lean middle-aged man, pointed northwest with his chin as he wiped his teacups. "Go straight along this road, cross that bridge ahead, turn right onto the side path, and walk a little further and you'll see the academy's gate. There's a Shitou at the entrance with inscriptions, quite conspicuous." He finished wiping the teacups and put them on the shelf, adding, "Are you here to register? Lots of people come lately, mostly because of Shrek's reputation. The academy isn't too picky about qualifications, but it has many rules; you'd better find out beforehand."
Long Tian didn't correct him that he was going to find someone. He placed the tea money on the table and got up with Yu Jin to continue their journey. After crossing the bridge and turning right onto the path, it was already quite dark, and scattered lights lit up on the ridges of the fields on both sides of the road. Sure enough, there was a large gate at the end of the path. The gate was made of old wood, with a stone pillar on each side. The words "Shrek Academy" were engraved on the crossbeam above the pillars. The gate was not closed, and light from the courtyard shone through the crack.
Long Tian stood at the door for a moment, about to push it open, when the door was pulled open from the inside. The person who opened the door wore a dark blue short jacket, was half a head taller than Long Tian, broad-shouldered and with a wide back. Standing in the doorway, he looked like a door panel temporarily moved to block the way. His gaze first fell on Long Tian's face, then moved down a line to his back—the Dragon Shadow clinging to the fabric, though shrunk to its thinnest, still revealed a very faint gray-gold undertone along the spine as it continued to move, like the last vestiges of light from an old lampshade filtered through a gauze curtain. The person at the door lingered on that undertone for a moment longer, then returned to Long Tian's face, speaking with the directness characteristic of a traveler arriving at their destination after a long journey, "You're the one Tang San was talking about?"
Which one?
"The one with the shadow on his shoulder." He stepped aside in the doorway. "Come in, he's waiting for you in the backyard."
Long Tian followed the man through the courtyard deeper into the yard. The layout of the courtyard was more spacious than he had expected, with several rows of low buildings on both sides. A few freshly washed clothes were drying in the open space in the middle, and the evening breeze carried the scent of soap and grass. At the end of the corridor leading to the backyard was a room with a light on, the door half-open, and light leaking from the crack in the door, casting a narrow, long line of light on the ground. The man in the blue jacket stopped at the door, tilted his head slightly to indicate that he could go in, and then turned and walked back the way he came.
Long Tian pushed open the door. The room was simply furnished: a wooden table, two chairs, and an oil lamp. On the table lay a hand-drawn sketch and several books. Tang San sat in the chair behind the table, holding a pencil and drawing something in the corner of the sketch. Hearing the door open, he looked up. When his eyes met Long Tian's, there was no small talk; he simply placed the pencil on the table and gestured to the chair opposite him.
Long Tian sat down opposite him. Yu Jin didn't come in; he stood in the corridor outside the door, leaning against the wall, waiting. Tang San turned the sketch on the table around and pushed it in front of Long Tian —the sketch showed several lines, their intersections forming an outline, somewhat like a simplified version of the sea chart on the wall of the Mountain Hall, but lacking the complex patterns and symbols, only showing a few main lines and a circled location. Tang San's pencil touched the circled location. "The sea chart you brought back from the East Sea points here. I checked the old archives of the Spirit Hall, that area..." The area wasn't marked on the map, but a logbook from a voyage fifty years ago mentioned a similar location. "The water was unusually blue, the tide surged from the bottom, the compass was off, and seabirds didn't fly over." The ship's owner returned saying he thought he saw the outlines of underwater structures, but couldn't remember the exact shapes after returning to port. His logbook began to have intermittent blank pages on the seventh day after returning to port, as if someone had torn some pages out some time later, leaving traces of the torn edges.
Long Tian stared at the sketch. The pencil lines gleamed faintly in the lamplight, their grayish-white light reflecting off the paper. The position of the circled mark perfectly matched the extended end of the dotted line on the nautical chart in his memory. He looked down at the circled area. Tang San sat opposite him in the chair, placing the pencil on the table with a soft clinking sound, like the deep, resonant wooden echo of a drawer that had been waiting to close for a long time finally shut.