“Old Master Cheng? What are you doing here?”
Chen Zui looked up and saw the visitor, feeling a bit surprised.
Old Master Cheng gave a cold snort, set the jar of Huadiao wine down on the stone table, and sat on a stone stool without being asked.
“What, am I not welcome?”
When Chen Zui saw the jar of wine, his eyes immediately lit up.
“Welcome, welcome! You are most welcome.”
He pulled out the stopper, took a sniff, and nodded with satisfaction.
“At least ten years old.”
Old Master Cheng stroked his beard and smiled. “Fifteen years. I brewed it myself.”
Chen Zui rummaged through the house to find two coarse ceramic bowls and hurriedly poured the wine.
The liquid was clear and the aroma was pungent; it was indeed fine wine.
He then held up a bowl with both hands and toasted Old Master Cheng.
“Then I won’t stand on ceremony.”
The two of them clinked their coarse ceramic bowls and each took a large gulp.
The Huadiao was smooth on the palate, but its after-effects were not to be underestimated.
Chen Zui smacked his lips, savoring it carefully. He felt it was three times more mellow than the best wine in the taverns at the foot of the mountain.
At that moment, Old Master Cheng suddenly spoke.
“I have been teaching for forty years, and I never go looking for trouble with people after class. I came today because I wanted to talk to you.”
Chen Zui was amused.
He knew this old man hadn't come just to drink wine with him.
“Talk about what?”
Old Master Cheng picked up his wine bowl and took a sip. He remained silent for a moment before slowly speaking.
“That boy Xu Yanping... in the past, when he wrote essays, he would only quote classics and references. Every time he opened his mouth, it was ‘Ziyun said’ or ‘The Master said.’
“I graded his assignments for three years and told him his essays lacked a human touch.
“But over this past half month, the policy discourses he has submitted have become more and more grounded in the real world.
“When writing about disaster relief, he knows that one must open the granaries first before reporting it, because the victims cannot wait for the imperial court’s documents to travel back and forth.
“When writing about water management, he knows to ask the old river workers more questions, because they understand the temperament of the river channels better than the officials in charge.”
He lifted his eyelids to look at Chen Zui, a complex expression flashing through his aged eyes that had seen the world.
“These things are not in the books. Did you tell him?”
Chen Zui took a gulp of wine and shook his head.
“I didn’t teach him. I just took him to the town at the foot of the mountain and let him see, ask, and listen for himself.”
“That is teaching.”
Old Master Cheng took another sip from his wine bowl.
“It’s just that you didn’t teach him principles; you taught him the method of seeing those principles.”
Chen Zui didn’t speak; he just raised his wine bowl and clinked it against Old Master Cheng’s.
Old Master Cheng took a drink and suddenly changed the subject.
“I began my primary education at the age of seven, became a Xiucai at sixteen, and a Juren at twenty-three.
“In the year I turned thirty, I originally intended to go to the capital for the examinations, but I was kept here by my late master to teach.
“This teaching has lasted for forty years.”
His voice was very low, as if he were talking to himself.
“In these forty years, no fewer than eight hundred or a thousand students have left this academy.
“Some became County Magistrates, some became Prefects, and two even entered the Six Ministries.
“But do you know what I regret most after all these years?”
Chen Zui set down his wine bowl and looked at him seriously.
“After they left, they wrote letters back, but all they talked about were the social pleasantries and worldly wisdom of officialdom.
“No one told me how many people under their rule still didn't have enough to eat.
“No one asked me why the benevolent governance and love for the people written in the sacred books simply didn't work once they were on the ground.
“It’s as if... everything they learned in The Academy was completely forgotten the moment they stepped out of these mountain gates.”
He turned his head and looked at Chen Zui.
“That is why I rang the bell for you that day in the Debate Hall.”
Old Master Cheng raised his wine bowl, drained it in one go, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
“Your bit of Wild Fox Zen, although it doesn't follow the rules, hits the mark every time.
“If students like Xu Yanping can learn even a little bit of what you have, when they go out to be officials in the future, at least they won't just be good officials on paper.”
Old Master Cheng suddenly smiled again.
“Of course, the students I have taught are not all like that.”
Old Master Cheng set down his wine bowl and looked around the small courtyard, his gaze landing on the cluster of spotted bamboo in the corner.
“In this Xiao Langgan, more than twenty years ago, another person lived here.”
“Who?”
“A student of mine.
“His name was Fang Luming.
“The top scholar of the Caiqin Trial twenty-three years ago.
“His talent was not inferior to Qinghe’s, yet he was even more earnest than Yanping.
“I have taught for half my life, and I have never seen another student like him.”
Chen Zui didn’t respond; he just held the wine bowl in his hand, slowly rotating it.
“You probably haven't heard this name.
“However, this jar of wine was buried by him fifteen years ago when he left The Academy.
“I could never bring myself to touch it.
“Taking it out today can be considered settling a matter of the heart.
“Because I think that if Luming were still alive, he would surely have been good friends with you.”
Chen Zui’s hand, holding the wine bowl, paused in mid-air. He did not interrupt.
Old Master Cheng, however, picked up his bowl and took another sip.
“Luming came from humble beginnings.
“His father was a porter at the riverside docks, and his mother washed clothes for others.
“In the year he came to Qingya Academy to study, he couldn't even afford the tuition.
“It was Mountain Lord Lu who made an exception and waived his fees.”
His gaze fell on his own blurred reflection in the wine.
“He studied extremely hard.
“In winter, when his fingers were so frozen he couldn't hold a brush, he would tuck his hands into his robes to warm them before writing again.
“In summer, when he was covered in bites from mosquitoes and insects, he would soak both feet in a bucket of cold water and continue reciting his books.”
“And then?” Chen Zui asked.
“Later, he passed the examinations and became a Jinshi, third in the Second Class.”
Old Master Cheng’s voice carried a hint of pride, but that pride lasted only a moment before being submerged by a deeper exhaustion.
“One year, there was a flood, and the imperial court allocated a hundred thousand taels of silver for disaster relief.
“By the time the silver reached the prefectural government, it had been exploited at every level; less than ten percent reached the victims.
“Others turned a blind eye.
“But he insisted on investigating, on reporting it to the higher-ups.
“And the result?
“After all that investigating, what they found was a charge against him for ‘embezzlement of public funds.’”
Speaking to this point, Old Master Cheng gave a cold laugh, a sound filled with endless desolation and indignation.
“A man who couldn't even bring himself to buy new clothes for the New Year was branded with the label of embezzlement and exiled to Lingnan.
“The miasma in Lingnan is heavy.
“He was already ill from overwork, and he was forced to march for three months under guard.
“He died not long after.”
Old Master Cheng raised his wine bowl but merely held it in his hand, not drinking again.
“And I, his teacher, only received a brief letter in the end.
“Only eight characters were written on it.”
“Which eight characters?” Chen Zui asked.
“Deer bleat in the wild, their cries are sorrowful.”
The courtyard was quiet for a long time, with only the rustling of the wind blowing through the bamboo leaves.
After a long while, Chen Zui picked up his wine bowl and stood up.
He raised the bowl toward the empty courtyard gate and then slowly poured half the bowl of wine onto the ground.
The liquid seeped into the gaps between the bluestone slabs, spreading out into a dark water stain.
“Old Master Cheng, this bowl of wine is to toast your student.”
Old Master Cheng stared blankly at the wine stain on the ground. It took a long time before he finally raised his own bowl and drained it in one gulp.
When he set the bowl down, his hand was trembling slightly.
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