Li Diudiu had come to see his master Changmei — but it wasn’t only Li Diudiu who came. Xiahou Zuo, who normally slept until the sun was high in the sky, had come. And Yan Qingzhi, the instructor who normally kept his nose out of things that didn’t concern him, had come as well.

Arm still in its sling, Xiahou Zuo watched the little one clinging to his master. Something prickled in his nose. He even felt, just a little, a flicker of envy.

The Daoist was filthy and smelled and old and poor — yet watching them, Xiahou Zuo thought: that must be what a father is supposed to look like.

Where was his own father?

High and lofty — at least within Jizhou, no one would dare cross his father. And yet the image of his father in his memory and the image of this old Daoist could not be made to overlap, no matter how hard he tried. The more he thought about it, the more he envied what he saw.

There was a small river running through Jizhou City. People often came to its banks to take in the scenery. On the open ground beside it, Li Diudiu opened his bundle and took out an iron pot — yes, an iron pot — along with chopsticks, a strainer ladle, plates, and everything else one might need, all present and accounted for.

He set the pot up by the river, then ran to a nearby well and hauled back a bucket of water. He started a fire on the riverbank.

“Auntie Wu said that dumplings have to be eaten straight from the pot to taste right. Leftovers lose their flavor.”

Li Diudiu produced bag after bag of dumplings from his bundle like a conjurer — raw ones.

The old Daoist sat beside him, watching, eyes full of stars — not because he was hungry for the dumplings, but because watching Li Diudiu filled him with nothing but warmth and contentment.

The dumplings went into the pot. Li Diudiu’s serious expression gave him a quietly impressive air.

“Auntie Wu also said the dumplings are done when they puff up.”

He crouched by the iron pot, watching intently. “Why aren’t they puffing yet?”

Just then, three men in constable uniforms strode over. All three were frowning. When they noticed the academy robes on Li Diudiu’s body, they hesitated for a moment.

But then they looked at the Changmei Daoist’s clothing — and the disgust on their faces grew thick and undisguised.

“Young master,” one of the constables said, cupping his hands with a show of politeness toward Li Diudiu, “are you offering charity to a beggar?”

Li Diudiu’s expression went cold. “Who’s a beggar?”

The old Daoist immediately tugged at him: “Don’t argue with the officers.”

He stood and bowed, his face apologetic. “Officers, I’m just having a bite to eat here. I’ll be on my way shortly — very shortly.”

The lead constable looked the old Daoist up and down, then without warning sent a kick into him. “Someone’s generous enough to feed you and you actually dare to eat?!”

His master had gone without food for many days — he had no strength left to dodge. The constable’s kick knocked him sprawling. The constable’s manner then shifted — as easily as flipping a page — and when he turned to Li Diudiu again, it was back to being courteous and pleasant.

“Young master, you’ve had your fun. Best be getting back now. What’s worth looking after about a beggar like this? The Jiedushi has issued strict orders — no beggars are to be seen within Jizhou City. They damage the city’s reputation.”

Li Diudiu had no attention to spare for the man’s words. He rushed first to his master’s side and pulled him upright, asking if he was all right.

In that moment, Li Diudiu understood why, in all the time he had been in Jizhou, he had never once seen anyone begging on the streets. It wasn’t that there were none — it was that every one spotted was driven away.

He did not yet know that some were not merely driven away, but thrown into prison — where, at some unknown future time, they would be made someone else’s scapegoat.

“Why did you hit him!”

Li Diudiu shot to his feet with a shout. His eyes held the faint glint of killing intent.

He was only eleven years old — yet when the constable caught that look in his eyes, he flinched. Those eyes were too fierce. Like a young tiger’s.

“Go to hell.”

A dark shape streaked in from the side. A fist connected squarely with the constable’s face — with tremendous force. The struck constable flipped sideways and his head cracked against the ground. For a good while he couldn’t get up.

Xiahou Zuo’s right arm was still in its sling. The punch with his left hand wasn’t his cleanest, but the force behind it was entirely genuine.

“How dare you strike an officer of the law!” Another constable grabbed his sword hilt. “You’re very bold!”

Xiahou Zuo rolled his shoulders and walked forward. As he walked, he said: “Do you know who I am? I’ll tell you — my name is Xiahou Zuo. Draw that sword and see what happens.”

The name Xiahou Zuo seemed to carry as much force here as it did within the academy walls. The constable who heard it went visibly blank, then immediately bent into a bow: “Young Master Xiahou — forgive this humble officer for failing to recognize you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Xiahou Zuo raised his hand, drew it across his mouth, then delivered an open-handed slap across the constable’s face. “Recognize me now?”

The constable took the blow without daring to retaliate, and quickly straightened back up, head lowered: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This time I’ll remember Young Master Xiahou’s face.”

Xiahou Zuo said: “You’re all just doing what you’ve been ordered to do. I won’t make things difficult for you. Get lost.”

“Yes, yes, yes…”

The three men, who moments ago had been full of swagger, turned and fled. Their eyes weren’t without resentment — but none of them dared to let Xiahou Zuo see it.

“Thank you, thank you…”

The old Daoist bowed toward Xiahou Zuo. Xiahou Zuo caught him by the arm: “No need, no need. It was nothing.”

He turned to look at Li Diudiu. Li Diudiu had cupped his hands and was about to say something, but Xiahou Zuo reached out, picked up the chopsticks, fished a dumpling from the pot, blew on it a few times, and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed noisily, his cheeks puffed — it was still hot after all.

One dumpling down. Xiahou Zuo handed the chopsticks to Li Diudiu: “Don’t say anything unnecessary. We’re square.”

Li Diudiu opened his mouth, uncertain what to say.

Xiahou Zuo turned and walked away, waving a hand over his shoulder without looking back: “Eat your dumplings. Spend some time with the old man.”

Once Xiahou Zuo had gone, the old Daoist asked: “Who is that young master?”

“Xiahou Zuo.”

Li Diudiu scooped out the dumplings and handed them to his master: “Master — eat quickly.”

The old Daoist held the bowl, eyes going moist again. “All right, all right — I’ll eat… I’ll eat.”

Li Diudiu took the five taels of silver from his chest and offered them with both hands: “Master, I’ve earned a bit of money at the academy. Take it for now and use it at an inn. I’ve asked around — a simpler inn runs about two taels of silver a month.”

“How could you earn money at the academy?”

The old Daoist’s expression shifted sharply.

“I… “

Li Diudiu smiled. “Rewards. Because my performance is much stronger than the others. Every time the instructor asks a question, no one else can answer — only I can. This is a personal reward from the instructor.”

The old Daoist let out a breath of relief. “That’s all right then. But don’t earn money by doing anything wrong. You’re still young — your studies come first. Keep the money for yourself as a safety net. Your master can earn his own.”

“Hmm…”

Li Diudiu said: “Then I’ll just take the silver and spend it however I like.”

The old Daoist considered this for a moment: “Perhaps I should hold onto it for you after all.”

He took the silver and tucked it into his robe, then handed the plate of dumplings to Li Diudiu: “You eat.”

Li Diudiu said: “I eat these every day. I brought all of this for you. Master, eat up.”

The old Daoist’s smile spread wide and foolish as he ate, one after another, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s.

From the roadside at a distance, Xiahou Zuo leaned against a tree, watching Li Diudiu by the river. He had stayed because he was worried those constables might circle back to cause trouble — but he couldn’t have said exactly why, the longer he watched the old Daoist, the heavier something grew inside him.

“Give me ten thousand pieces of gold,” he murmured, “and still I’d envy their laughter and easy talk.”

Xiahou Zuo let out a long, slow sigh.

After they finished eating by the river, Li Diudiu went with his master to find an inn. Xiahou Zuo continued to follow at a distance — and what he didn’t know was that the carriage had also been following from afar the whole time. While he watched Li Diudiu and the old Daoist in the distance, the carriage’s occupant — Yan Qingzhi — was watching him.

Though compared to before, Yan Qingzhi’s gaze toward Xiahou Zuo had softened somewhat.

The inn looked humble by most standards, but to the old Daoist, having a place to sleep, a warm blanket, and a hot bath to look forward to — what more could he want? This was contentment. The deepest kind of contentment.

Li Diudiu bustled back and forth making arrangements. Seeing his academy robes, the innkeeper was noticeably more accommodating — he gave them one of the best available rooms, larger than the rest, with a big wooden tub for soaking inside, far more comfortable than the small single rooms.

Li Diudiu personally set about heating water, carrying it basin by basin to fill the wooden tub. Then he helped his master scrub his back. The old Daoist was mortified by the fuss and wanted him to wait outside.

Li Diudiu wouldn’t hear of it. He stood behind his master, wrapping the towel twice around his hand, and scrubbed in long strokes. Rolls of grime came off in curling strips — deeply satisfying work.

“When you were small, I was the one scrubbing your back. Now you’re scrubbing mine.”

The old Daoist’s eyes went faintly red as he said it.

“Don’t give me that,” said Li Diudiu with a laugh. “Every bath you ever gave me was you throwing me in a river and dangling me by the ankles in the water like you were wringing out a cloth…”

The old Daoist smiled without speaking. In truth, he had thought very carefully about everything he did for Li Diudiu. From the time the boy was four or five, he had tossed him into rivers and stood watching from the bank, looking as though he couldn’t care less — while in reality Li Diudiu had been learning to swim precisely because of it.

“Master.”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to call you.”

Li Diudiu answered with a foolish grin.

The old Daoist lay soaking in the hot water and felt that his entire life had been worthwhile. What were those ten years of hardship compared to this moment? Li Diudiu’s filial devotion filled him with nothing but warmth and pride.

And a little smugness… of course he turned out like this — I raised him, didn’t I? Ha ha ha ha…

“Master, you stay here for now. I’ll save up some money and buy you a house in Jizhou City. I’ve asked around — a proper residence costs about two hundred taels. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Focus on your studies!”

The old Daoist turned to look at him with a stern expression: “This month your master will stay at the inn. Once I have clean clothes, I can go out and look respectable and find some work. Trust your master’s abilities. I’ll handle earning my own money. You just keep up with your studies.”

“Understood.”

Li Diudiu said it, but in his heart — young as he was — he’d already made up his own mind. What he’d decided to do, he would do.

“Twenty days until the monthly examinations. Once I pass, I can go back to the main classes.”

Li Diudiu talked while scrubbing his master’s back, as though he had endless things to say. He went over everything that had happened in his ten days at the Four-Page Academy — though he was careful to leave out anything he thought might worry his master.

He told only the good parts. The funny things. The food.

“You mustn’t embarrass yourself.”

The old Daoist spoke seriously: “At the very least you need to place in the top few. You’re different from others — you have to work harder.”

Li Diudiu said with perfect seriousness: “How about I guarantee top four?”

His master nodded: “That’ll do.”

Li Diudiu grinned to himself.

His master had never actually been inside the academy — both times had been arranged by Guo Huaili. His master had no idea that including him, there were only four students in total.

“Ha ha ha ha…”

Li Diudiu laughed openly and freely.

His master asked: “What are you laughing at?”

“Pulling one over on an old man is so fun.”

—