On the streets of Jizhou city, another morning that made one feel bright and clearheaded. Because a light rain had fallen the night before, the air carried a faint scent of fresh earth.

In a pile of firewood, the old Daoist, Changmei, felt a pang of feeling. Without little Diudiu’er by his side, how was it that he couldn’t even earn a single coin?

In the past, whenever that little one was around, business was never lacking — even wandering through the chaos of the Seven Counties, they’d always managed to make money. But now, here in this great and prosperous city with nothing but well-dressed, respectable folk everywhere, why was it that no one wanted their fortune told?

His clothes were wet from the rain. He had nowhere to take shelter — not that there were no eaves to hide under, but he didn’t dare let anyone see him at night. Looking as bedraggled as he did, if the night patrol spotted him, he’d be hauled away on the spot. Thrown into a cell, waiting for a suitable day to be dragged out and beheaded as a stand-in for someone else’s crime, with his only reward being a final meal before the execution.

Such things were far from uncommon in Dachu. They happened everywhere.

Crawling out from the pile of firewood, the old Daoist shook off his clothes, then instinctively extended his hands and waved them through the air in front of him, as if smoothing out his garments.

Then he smiled — quite pleased with himself.

“It’s fine, it’s all fine. Diudiu’er won’t end up like this.”

He pulled his divination banner from the firewood pile — it had grown so worn it was barely recognizable. In that moment, he suddenly understood: it was precisely because he looked so wretched that no one would come to him for a fortune reading.

Who among the city folk would believe that a Daoist this ragged and miserable, on the verge of starving to death, could truly see a decade into someone’s future?

If they wanted their fortune told, they went to the temples, where respectable-looking Daoist priests waited — incense offerings at one price, a peace talisman at another, a glimpse of one’s future prospects at yet another.

The old Daoist thought: should he leave Jizhou and go back to wander the Seven Counties? He’d try again today to see if he could earn anything — if not, he truly ought to leave. He still had to survive.

The folk of the Seven Counties at least trusted him. At minimum, there would be something to eat. He’d already gone two days and two nights without food, and he was still holding to his last line of principle: he would not beg, would not steal, would not implore for charity, would not pick up discarded vegetable scraps. That was his respect for the Daoist path.

He straightened his damp, rain-soaked clothes — still looking at the empty air before him — and with a smile on the corner of his lips, the old Daoist murmured to himself, calling softly: “Diudiu’er…”

He’d been smiling a moment before, and suddenly he was crying — tears falling without stopping. The old man buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he wept.

“Your master misses you.”

The old Daoist shuffled forward, and after walking a little way, turned back — as if hoping that in that one glance behind him, he’d see little Li Diudiu come running toward him, calling out that he missed him too.

—

Four Pages Academy.

Li Diudiu sat there looking troubled — not troubled over what to eat, but because the dining hall had suddenly become crowded. Yesterday morning, only a few people had been there, including Xiahou Zuo. But this morning, dozens upon dozens of people had gathered, enough to leave even Auntie Wu visibly astonished.

“That’s him, that’s him — that little fellow can really eat. It was incredible.”

A young student spotted Li Diudiu and grew immediately excited. He pointed at Li Diudiu and said, “This guy — yesterday morning, he ate eighty dumplings!”

Li Diudiu shook his head and quietly muttered to himself, “Seventy-nine.”

Just then, Xiahou Zuo walked over, looked at Li Diudiu, and said, “Same as yesterday — I still want to watch you eat dumplings. Four portions. Eighty copper coins.”

Li Diudiu said, “One hundred.”

Xiahou Zuo’s brow furrowed slightly, a faint trace of displeasure crossing his face.

“Why?” Xiahou Zuo asked.

Li Diudiu answered, “I just asked Auntie Wu — the prices of vegetables and meat have gone up.”

Xiahou Zuo stared at Li Diudiu like he was looking at something bizarre. He thought to himself: what does it matter to you if vegetable and meat prices go up? You eat free food from the dining hall — no matter how much prices rise, it’s still free.

Yet somehow, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed perfectly reasonable.

“Fine. One hundred copper coins it is.”

Xiahou Zuo stepped back a few paces and made a welcoming gesture. Li Diudiu asked Auntie Wu for four portions of dumplings, then asked Xiahou Zuo, “Do a lot of people come to you asking for favors?”

Xiahou Zuo answered lazily, “There’s nothing in this academy that requires you to ask anyone for help.”

Li Diudiu was quiet for a moment, then shook his head. “There is.”

Xiahou Zuo asked, “Like what?”

Li Diudiu said, “Like — if I want to leave the academy, I’d have to wait a few more days, but I can’t wait any longer. I wanted to ask: how does one go about requesting leave?”

Xiahou Zuo stared at Li Diudiu even more like he was looking at something strange. He said quite sincerely, “If you want to leave the academy, you just tell a teacher. You don’t even know that much?”

Li Diudiu said, “I know. But I’m not the same as you.”

“How are you different?”

“I’m poor.”

Li Diudiu raised his head and looked Xiahou Zuo in the eye. “If you make a mistake, you get expelled from the academy. If I go to ask for leave, I’ll probably be humiliated. If I can still get the leave after being humiliated, that’s fine — but I know I’d be humiliated and still not get the leave.”

Xiahou Zuo asked, “What do you need to go out for?”

“To find my master.”

Li Diudiu drew a slow breath and let it out. “I dreamed of him last night. He’s not doing well.”

Xiahou Zuo nodded and said, “I can help you. I’ll say I need you to go out and help me with something — my relationship with Teacher Yan Qingzhi is decent, he’ll agree. But… two taels of silver.”

Li Diudiu reached into his robe and took out everything he had — the broken piece of silver and the one hundred copper coins from yesterday. He had no money pouch, so it had all been stuffed against his chest. He pushed it all toward Xiahou Zuo.

“Take it all.”

Xiahou Zuo took back the two taels of broken silver, then pushed the rest back. “I won’t take more than I’m owed.”

He looked at Li Diudiu and after a moment’s silence said, “I’m charging you two taels to show you that asking for help has a price.”

Li Diudiu looked down and said, “I know. I knew that before I ever entered the academy.”

Auntie Wu brought over four portions of dumplings. Li Diudiu picked up his chopsticks and started eating, and as he ate he said, “Auntie Wu, please cook up four more portions… actually, five.”

He placed one hundred copper coins on the table. “This is for the dumplings — since these aren’t for me but for someone else, I need to buy them. I asked you this morning, and you told me the prices of vegetables and meat have gone up. Five portions of dumplings would cost about one hundred and twenty-five copper coins to wrap. I owe you twenty-five.”

Auntie Wu was flustered. She hesitated for quite a while before saying, “Young master, there’s no reason to take your money — the academy has no such rule.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “Take it from him. Because what he said is right.”

Auntie Wu seemed to hold Xiahou Zuo in great respect, or perhaps fear. She nodded immediately and, with some reluctance, pocketed the hundred copper coins — her hands trembling faintly as she held them, as though they burned.

Li Diudiu said no more and ate heartily. In no time, he’d cleared all four portions of dumplings without a trace. The onlookers were all stunned — the vast majority of them hadn’t witnessed this before. Who could have imagined that such a small, slender person could eat so much?

After he finished, Xiahou Zuo said, “I can take you out now.”

Li Diudiu gave an affirming sound, then turned to look at Auntie Wu. “I’ll make up the twenty-five copper coins as soon as I can.”

Xiahou Zuo opened his money pouch, counted out one hundred copper coins, and handed them to Li Diudiu. “I had someone go out specifically to exchange for copper coins. You don’t need to owe anyone anything — this is my payment for watching you eat today. A man’s word is his bond.”

Li Diudiu was momentarily stunned. He stored that phrase away in his heart.

He counted out twenty-five coins and handed them to Auntie Wu, then gave Xiahou Zuo a bow. “Thank you.”

Xiahou Zuo turned and headed out. “No need for thanks — I took your money.”

As he walked he said, “You all watched, didn’t you? One hundred copper coins each, to him. I won’t say this twice.”

The onlookers scrambled to pay. They all seemed deeply afraid of Xiahou Zuo, but these young scions of wealth never carried much loose copper coin — silver was all they had on them. Xiahou Zuo glanced at their pained expressions, then pulled a piece of silver worth roughly five taels from his own pouch and handed it to Li Diudiu.

“One hundred coins per person — there are about seventy or eighty people here. Is five taels acceptable?”

Li Diudiu nodded. “That works.”

Xiahou Zuo gave it to him. “Starting tomorrow, no one is to come and pay to watch you eat. If I say it’s not allowed, no one will dare pay you.”

Li Diudiu didn’t ask why, just said, “Alright.”

Xiahou Zuo turned to the crowd. “Consider each of you owing me one tael of silver. Bring it to me tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes, yes…”

“Of course, of course…”

The group nodded eagerly, and parted quickly to clear the way.

Xiahou Zuo led Li Diudiu out the door. He seemed to be quite well-known within the academy — nearly everyone they passed along the way nodded in greeting, and the few who didn’t simply pretended not to see him.

At the academy gate, Xiahou Zuo said to the gatekeepers, “His name is Li Chi. I’ve asked him to go out and take care of something for me. Issue him a pass.”

One of the gatekeepers immediately complied, writing out a pass and handing it to Li Diudiu. “You can come back whenever you like. Young Master Xiahou has charged you with an errand — do it well.”

And just like that, Li Diudiu had become Xiahou Zuo’s errand boy. And because of that errand boy status, even the gatekeepers looked at him differently — with an expression that seemed to say: this little fellow has climbed to a high branch.

Li Diudiu didn’t care about any of that. He grabbed the five portions of dumplings, tucked five taels of silver inside his robe, and sprinted out — his only wish was to see his master as quickly as possible.

Half an hour later, in the Academy’s Library Tower.

Xiahou Zuo sat sprawled with his feet up on the desk, not the least bit like a student was supposed to look — yet the librarian keeper in the tower didn’t say a word.

Yan Qingzhi sat across from Xiahou Zuo, eyes narrowed as he studied him. After a long while he asked one word: “Why?”

Xiahou Zuo shrugged. “You know I do everything on impulse. I like the little scruffy kid. Think of it as me picking up a stray kitten and tossing him a scrap to eat. What’s wrong with that?”

Yan Qingzhi was silent for a long time, then said in a heavy tone, “You’ll ruin him.”

Xiahou Zuo still wore that same look of indifference. “I know what you mean, Teacher. You’re worried that someone extraordinary like him will turn into just another lackey — sheltering under someone else’s power, bullying the weak in another’s name…”

He pulled his legs off the desk, leaned forward, and looked at Yan Qingzhi seriously. “Isn’t it exhausting, Teacher, playing the villain? You’re not like me — I’m a real villain. The old man set you up to torment that child, didn’t he? I heard the little girl couldn’t stand it and threw a clump of dirt at your face.”

Yan Qingzhi said, “None of your business.”

“It will be soon enough.”

Xiahou Zuo got up and headed out, talking as he walked. “He’s my junior now. I’ll look after him from here on.”

A few steps out, he stopped and glanced back at Yan Qingzhi. “On the way out, I listened to him talk about himself and his master. Someone like me actually went soft-hearted.”

Yan Qingzhi waved a hand. “Get out of here.”

Xiahou Zuo grinned. “Goodbye, Teacher.”

Leaving the Library Tower, he walked with a leisurely whistle, drifting along in the direction of his residence. He didn’t go home — he had his own private courtyard here at the academy, nothing like the row of single rooms where Li Diudiu stayed. Li Diudiu’s room, though a private room, was worlds apart from Xiahou Zuo’s courtyard.

Halfway along the path, Xiahou Zuo stopped.

He saw Li Diudiu sitting at the side of the road, sobbing so hard his whole body was shuddering.

He walked over and sat down beside him, glancing at the bag Li Diudiu was still clutching tightly — five portions of dumplings inside.

“Didn’t find him?”

“Mm.”

“The Wuwei Temple is a place of the high and mighty. There’s no way they’d take in someone like your master. He’d have been chased away the moment he arrived.”

Xiahou Zuo plucked a blade of grass and stuck it in his mouth, wearing the same expression of easy indifference.

Li Diudiu glanced at him and asked, “You guessed as much from the start?”

“Mm.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “Sitting in halls of ritual, wearing fine robes, receiving visitors in procession — the Daoists inside the Wuwei Temple are no longer true Daoists. Someone like your master barely qualifies as one these days…”

Li Diudiu said between sobs, “I lost my master.”

Xiahou Zuo stood, patted Li Diudiu on the shoulder. “When the ten days are up, go again. You’ll see him — if the bond between you two is real.”

—