Chapter Twenty-Three: Timid Dou Fengjie (Part One)

Yan Shigu returned to the old Zheng family residence in Luoyang, seething with anger.

“My good brother, where have you just come from?”

He was met head-on by Zheng Renji, who was just about to leave. Noticing something off about Yan Shigu’s expression, Zheng Renji couldn’t help but be curious.

It was well known that Yan Shigu hailed from a prestigious family and paid meticulous attention to his conduct and demeanor, rarely revealing any emotion—joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness. Most of the time, he appeared serious and upright. And indeed, Yan Shigu was a man of unbending rectitude.

Forcing a smile, Yan Shigu cupped his hands in greeting toward Zheng Renji. “Elder brother, are you heading out?”

Zheng Renji smiled. “Yes, as it happens, Liu Boguang from Hejian, a Cavalry Captain, is passing through Luoyang and has invited me to the Jade Rooster Garden for drinks… Oh, he even left an invitation for you. Since you were out, I accepted it on your behalf. So, how about it—would you join me? I hear Liu Boguang has also invited quite a few of Luoyang’s renowned scholars. It’s sure to be lively.”

Liu Boguang, whose given name was Liu Xuan, was from Jingcheng, Hejian. He studied the “Book of Songs” under Liu Guisi, the “Zuo Tradition” under Guo Mao, and the “Rites” under Xiong Ansheng—all eminent scholars of the time. It was said that he could draw a square with his left hand and a circle with his right, recite, count, and listen all at once—mastering five tasks simultaneously. He had been appointed by Emperor Wu of Zhou as General of the Palace and Cavalry Captain. Later, however, he was dismissed for forging the “Lianshan Yi” and the “Annals of Lu.”

His resurgence came in the twentieth year of the Kaihuang era, when Emperor Wen of Sui attempted to abolish the National University, Four Gates School, and county academies, leaving only two scholars and twenty-seven students in the Imperial Academy. On hearing this, Liu Boguang submitted eighteen memorials in a single day, pleading through close friends to persuade the emperor against such a move, earning the praise of scholars across the land.

In fact, Liu Boguang was even older than the esteemed Zheng, a true elder of the literary world.

Yan Shigu had voiced his admiration for Liu Boguang while in Chang’an, so Zheng Renji thought Yan Shigu would surely be delighted to accept.

Unexpectedly, Yan Shigu showed no interest at all.

“Elder brother, I’m not feeling well, so I won’t be paying my respects. If you see Mr. Boguang, please convey my apologies. Should the opportunity arise, I’ll be sure to visit Jingcheng and seek his guidance in person.”

With that, Yan Shigu returned to his room.

He didn’t mention to Zheng Renji his visit to Zheng Yanqing. On reflection, he felt he’d gotten the worse end of the encounter. He had intended only to hold Zheng Yanqing to account and offer him some guidance. Privately, Yan Shigu thought that if Zheng Yanqing proved promising, he wouldn’t mind asking Zheng Renji to let him attend lectures as well.

But to his surprise, Zheng Yanqing sidestepped the confrontation before Yan Shigu could even voice his reproach. What had begun as a mission to demand answers ended up with him making a wager with Zheng Yanqing instead. If word spread, it would do little for Yan Shigu’s reputation.

Zheng Renji found this odd, but he knew that scions of noble families often had their quirks. Moreover, Yan Shigu was not one to welcome questions about his private affairs—pressing him would only cause displeasure.

Thus, Zheng Renji refrained from asking, merely smiled, bid Yan Shigu farewell, and departed.

Yan Shigu sat fuming in his chamber, unable to calm himself. He picked up the “Book of Han” from the desk, flipped through a couple of pages, then set it aside. Since the Wei and Jin dynasties, most renowned scholars focused on the “Book of Han,” paying little attention to other historical records. Yet, that did not mean they were ignorant of them.

But what good was reading the “Book of Han” now? That boy from a humble family actually wanted to compete with him in knowledge of the Three Kingdoms—what arrogance!

Yan Shigu rose, went to the bookshelf, and retrieved a volume of Chen Shou’s original “Records of the Three Kingdoms.” He spread it out on his desk and began reading in earnest.

Gradually, his mind settled.

Suddenly, Yan Shigu chuckled. “That young fellow is rather interesting after all.”

The lamp in the bedroom went out. Midnight was approaching, and outside, all was silent. Zheng Yanqing knelt behind his desk, a sheet of yellowed paper before him, biting the tip of his brush, lost in thought.

He had boasted boldly, but now, as he sat down to write about the Three Kingdoms, his mind was a blank. Try as he might, nothing would come. He sat there, motionless, unable to put brush to paper.

How should he begin this “Three Kingdoms” anyway?

True, he had read the “Romance” thoroughly—many classic stories were etched deep in his memory. But to copy out the entire “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” was no simple feat. Never mind the order of stories—the sheer number of characters alone was enough to make one dizzy. Real and fictional, those who appeared and those who lurked in the background… In all, there were over a thousand characters in the “Romance.” How could Zheng Yanqing possibly remember them all?

And then there was the opening—those verses of “Song of the West River Moon,” a masterpiece for the ages, the soul of the work.

Should he write it or not? If he did, the form of the lyric poem was no longer in vogue and might draw criticism. But if he left it out, the work would lose much of its charm.

Moreover, the “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” was peppered with dialogues in a mix of classical and vernacular Chinese—Yanqing could not recall them all.

The “Three Kingdoms” encompassed history, poetry, military strategy…

All these thoughts gave Zheng Yanqing a headache.

What should he do? Should he bow his head to Yan Shigu?

But he had already made his boast—if he now sought mercy, even if Yan Shigu agreed, he would surely look down on him, and Zheng Renji would think less of both him and his grandfather. So, retreat was not an option! Since he could not go back, he could only press forward.

With this thought, Zheng Yanqing stood up and strode out of the study.

The empty courtyard was sparsely furnished. A century-old pine stood behind the house, its branches spreading like a canopy against the sky.

He raised his head and gazed at the star-filled heavens.

Stifled, he shrugged off his robe and stood bare-chested in the night breeze. Stepping lightly, he moved through various stances, occasionally letting out a low growl, his joints crackling with each movement.

The Five-Animal Play taught to him by Sun Simiao was already a revised version. When he blended it with ancient breathing techniques, it became a unique form of boxing.

Each move stretched his ligaments, bringing a twinge of pain. After a round of Five-Animal Boxing, Zheng Yanqing was drenched in sweat. He sat in the courtyard, gasping for breath.

The night wind was cool and soothing.

Unconsciously, spring was drawing near, and the night air carried a hint of its warmth.

Shivering, Zheng Yanqing was suddenly struck by inspiration.

Of course—he might not understand the “Records of the Three Kingdoms” deeply, but others did…

He suddenly leapt up, chuckling to himself. All I need is to grasp the thread of the Three Kingdoms—then my task is done!

With this realization, Zheng Yanqing laughed heartily.

He did not know that, inside the bedroom, Zheng Shian stood by the window, quietly observing his every move. Seeing Yanqing sitting in the study, Zheng Shian had felt anxious; watching him practice boxing in the courtyard, he felt a twinge of concern; but now, hearing Yanqing laugh out loud, Zheng Shian was filled with an unexpected sense of relief. It looks like he’s found a way!

Indeed, Zheng Yanqing had found a solution.

The next day, he took his satchel and set off for the Dou family’s academy.

“Yanqing, did you read the book I gave you?”

Mr. Li Ji was stretching in the courtyard. Seeing Zheng Yanqing arrive so early, he smiled warmly and inquired.

“Sir, something came up at home yesterday, so I have not yet had a chance to study ‘On the Brush.’”

“Oh?” Li Ji asked, “What happened at home? Was it serious? Do you need any help?”

In truth, Li Ji himself found it odd how much he cared for Zheng Yanqing. His decision to teach in the Dou clan’s village had been a matter of necessity, and he had never expected to strike such a rapport with Zheng Yanqing there.

Zheng Yanqing was not of the Dou clan, and his attendance at the academy came with certain conditions. For instance, he had to arrive earlier than the Dou clan’s students to clean the classroom and prepare the sand tray; after classes ended, he had to stay late to tidy up as well. He had to sweep the classroom and clear the sand tray, putting away various tools.

The Dou family, owning vast estates, had admitted him as a courtesy to the Zheng family and charged nothing.

Since no tuition was required, it was only right to do what he could.

Zheng Yanqing accepted this without complaint, quietly arranging the desks and setting up the sand tray, then sprinkling sand over it.

Li Ji sat in the classroom, watching Yanqing bustle about, a strange light gleaming in his eyes.

“Sir, do you know the ‘Three Kingdoms’?” Yanqing asked.

Li Ji was startled, coming back to himself. “Yanqing, what did you just say?”

“I wanted to ask, sir—are you familiar with the ‘Three Kingdoms’?”

“Oh, I know a little,” Li Ji replied. “But Yanqing, if you seek official rank, you must master the ‘Book of Han.’ It is a required course at the National University—without it, success at the civil examinations will be very difficult.”

—The author continues to beg for recommendations and favorites. Tears…