Li Diudiu had always been puzzled by one thing. In his eyes, his master was absolutely not a proper Daoist — yet all these years of wandering back and forth through the seven counties of Youzhou, he had seen how the common people revered him. Even the bandits, on encountering his master, would leave him alone. He couldn’t make sense of it.
“Master.”
“Hmm?”
“Bandits kill without a second thought, yet you walk around openly with all that silver and copper. You’re not afraid of them?”
“Not afraid. And also afraid.”
Changmei the Daoist spoke as he walked: “You’re still young, and some of what I say won’t fully land — but you can file it away in memory. People change — they’re very changeable. In times of prosperity, whatever people believe in, whether the Daoist order or the Buddhist teachings, what they are truly devoted to at the deepest level is the imperial court. The court is the foundation of a stable human heart. But in times of chaos, the heart stops trusting the court, and can only turn to gods and Buddhas — even a fear of spirits and demons becomes more compelling than any fear of the court.”
Li Diudiu couldn’t say he fully grasped all of this, but he committed it to memory. What his master said was ultimately not wrong.
“Those bandits dare to cut down officials, yet they won’t lay a hand on wandering Daoists like us — they fear karmic retribution. They do evil, yet they cling to the hope that because they haven’t killed a single Daoist, they’ve somehow accumulated merit. Tell me — are people’s hearts sinister or not?”
Li Diudiu shook his head: “I don’t understand.”
His master chuckled. “It’s fine not to understand.”
He lifted his gaze. In the distance, the outline of a great city had come into view. That was where they were heading: Jizhou.
Great Chu’s realm encompassed thirteen provinces. Jizhou, one of the thirteen, lay in the northern reaches of the Central Plains. Jizhou itself administered nineteen sub-prefectures, of which Youzhou sat furthest north. Beyond Youzhou lay the Yanyun Mountains, and beyond those mountains lay enemy territory.
“Master, what are we coming to Jizhou to do?”
Li Diudiu couldn’t help asking again.
This time his master did not speak again of buying lives. Instead, his voice carried the warmth of genuine hope: “Master has an old friend in Jizhou. Though it has been a very long time since we last met, our bond is unchanged. A gentleman’s friendship is as clear and unassuming as water. I have come to ask him to help Master with a matter.”
After speaking, Changmei instinctively patted the pack on his back — inside it were the savings accumulated over these many years.
The inspection at the city gate was not overly strict. Even so, his master — though clearly pained by the expense — passed a small piece of broken silver to the gate officer responsible for checking those entering and leaving, and accompanied it with several gracious words of flattery. When the old Daoist opened his mouth, he could charm the ears off a ghost, let alone an officer who was susceptible to a little silver.
Half an hour later, Li Diudiu followed his master through the city, asking directions as they went, until they arrived outside the gate of a large and imposing estate. His master told him to wait by the gate, then walked up to the door alone. Li Diudiu could see how unusually solemn his master’s expression was; he even straightened his robes with some care — though those robes were so filthy they couldn’t have been made any dirtier, crumpled and bunched in every direction.
He knocked. His master stepped back two paces and waited. Shortly, an elderly man opened the door, squinted at the visitor, and shook his head: “Daoist master, there is nothing here that requires your services. Best try somewhere else.”
Changmei reached into his robe and produced an envelope — yellowed, of no discernible age — and held it out with both hands: “Please be so kind as to inform Master Zhou of the grain administration office that an old friend, Changmei, requests an audience.”
This was the residence of Zhou Huaili, grain administration prefect of Jizhou’s provincial government.
For some reason, the old man paused, and looked at Changmei with a gaze that carried a trace of pity: “You probably don’t know yet that Master Zhou has already retired. When he was still in office, every year some relative or friend or another would turn up looking for a free meal. You’ve come too late.”
Changmei truly had not known that Zhou Huaili had retired. His face fell with urgency: “Please announce me just the same. I am not here to impose. I have something of importance to discuss.”
“All right.”
The old gatekeeper said: “Wait here, and I’ll go ask the master.”
Changmei immediately gave his thanks, bowing deeply. Li Diudiu, standing a short distance away, watched his master’s posture of supplication and felt an inexplicable ache in his chest. He thought to himself that if he ever had the means, he would never let his master go begging like this just to get a meeting.
“Master, is the prefect a very important official?”
Li Diudiu moved to his master’s side and asked in a low voice.
“Shh…”
Changmei motioned for him to stay quiet, then spoke in the faintest possible whisper: “Prefect Zhou is not a particularly grand official, but he is the most important official Master has ever come to know. If I want to help you buy a life, he is the only one I can turn to.”
“Why do you always say you want to buy my life?”
“Because Master cannot bear for you to keep living like a beggar alongside me. You are clever and eager to learn. All these years Master has been saving money for one purpose — to give you a different way of living. Jizhou’s Four Pages Academy is renowned throughout the realm. If you could enter the Four Pages Academy to study, and in time complete your learning, you could seek a post with the authorities. Even as a government accountant, that would be a respectable life — and a graduate of the Four Pages Academy would never end up as a mere accountant.”
“I won’t go.”
Li Diudiu finally understood what his master meant by buying his life. His master had mentioned the Four Pages Academy several times, in passing — how its headmaster was the great Confucian scholar Gao Shaowei, renowned throughout the realm, whose students included some of the most powerful figures at court. The Military Governor of Jizhou — a frontier magnate of enormous authority — was also one of Gao Shaowei’s students.
When Changmei heard Li Diudiu say “I won’t,” his expression immediately turned severe: “Child, do not say such things.”
“I’m not speaking thoughtlessly. If I enter this Four Pages Academy, what becomes of you?”
“Me?”
Changmei forced a smile: “Without that little nuisance dragging me along, who knows how free and easy my days might be. No more saving money for you, eat what I want, wear what I want — do you think I can’t live without you? Without you weighing me down, I’ll live a perfectly wonderful life.”
Li Diudiu’s eyes grew wet: “So Master is saying I’m a burden?”
Changmei pressed his lips together: “Yes. You are my burden. All these years — if not for dragging you around, would I have had to live so hard?”
Li Diudiu clenched his teeth, refusing to let himself cry.
At that moment the gatekeeper returned, smiling pleasantly: “Our master invites you inside. Stamp your feet first — don’t bring the dust in with you.”
Presently, led by the old gatekeeper, the two of them entered the compound. At the door of the main hall, Zhou Huaili — his temples already flecked with white — stood waiting. The moment he saw Changmei, he hurried down the steps: “My dear old brother — what has happened to you? To arrive in such a state!”
In his heart, Li Diudiu gave a small, cold snort. *If you truly treated my master as a dear old brother, shouldn’t you have come out to the gate to receive him personally?*
Zhou Huaili clasped Changmei’s hands and led him inside, calling for tea. Once Changmei explained his purpose, Zhou Huaili’s expression became visibly troubled.
“Old brother, I have been retired for more than two years and have had almost no contact with anyone in the authorities. In the past I still had occasional opportunity to see Master Gao, but in recent years I have kept to myself and seldom gone out. Truly I… truly I am in no position to help. Old brother, let me give you a word of advice — the Four Pages Academy takes in only fifty students each year, all drawn from prominent families. You…”
He left the rest unsaid, trusting that Changmei would understand the implication.
“All these years wandering from place to place, I never forgot what you mentioned — that your greatest admiration was for the calligraphy of Master Songming.”
Changmei opened his pack and produced a scroll: “This is an original work by Master Songming himself. It took me nine years to find it.”
At those words, Zhou Huaili’s eyes lit up immediately: “An original by Master Songming?”
His hands trembled slightly with excitement.
Songming had been a celebrated scholar of Great Chu, flourishing over two hundred years ago. In terms of calligraphy, every surviving piece of his work was of immense value — beyond what money could properly measure. For a person who truly loved the art of the brush, one original work by Master Songming was without price.
Zhou Huaili did not dare open the scroll immediately. He first went to wash his hands, then carefully, painstakingly, unrolled it inch by inch, his expression resembling that of a man besotted, slowly undoing the layers of a cherished garment.
For some reason, Li Diudiu felt that this man was thoroughly insincere. He didn’t like him.
“An original — it truly is an original by Master Songming!”
Zhou Huaili was so moved that his eyes glistened with the faintest trace of tears.
Li Diudiu had seen that piece of calligraphy before — when there was nothing else to do, he would crouch on the ground and copy the characters from it for amusement. His master had looked at his attempts and said they captured seven parts of the spirit. Li Diudiu himself didn’t see what was so remarkable about the calligraphy to begin with.
“About that…”
Zhou Huaili’s eyes remained fixed on the scroll, unable to look away, yet he waved a hand: “Quickly prepare a meal for my dear old brother — he must be famished.”
In his heart, Li Diudiu made another sharp, silent noise of contempt.
So when the food arrived, he ate without any ceremony whatsoever.
Half an hour later, Changmei took Li Diudiu’s hand and left the Zhou residence. There was a smile on the old Daoist’s face. Zhou Huaili had kept both the calligraphy scroll and the many years of accumulated savings, and had promised to make inquiries on their behalf.
“He might just pocket your money.”
Li Diudiu glanced at his master: “The look in his eyes!”
“Don’t say such things.”
Changmei shot him a look: “Don’t assume the worst of people.”
That night, the lamps in Zhou Huaili’s study burned until dawn. He pored over the calligraphy all night without sleep — he could not tear his eyes away. To him, this scroll was a priceless treasure of the world. The longer he looked, the more he loved it; and to love something utterly was to make it life itself.
The following morning, Zhou Huaili bathed and dressed, boarded his carriage, and departed.
At the gate of the Four Pages Academy, Zhou Huaili waited a considerable time before being invited in. Word came that Master Gao had just finished a lecture and was waiting for him in his study. Zhou Huaili entered like a young student approaching a revered teacher, with a spirit of genuine deference and awe.
Gao Shaowei appeared to be around sixty years of age, full of vitality, though his manner was somewhat offhand and indifferent. Given his standing in the world, receiving Zhou Huaili was already something of a courtesy.
“Master.”
Zhou Huaili bowed deeply first.
“Huaili brother — I have to head over to the Military Governor’s residence shortly. If you have something urgent, please speak plainly.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
Zhou Huaili opened the bundle he had brought, revealing inside it a finely crafted wooden box. He set the box carefully on the table and slowly lifted the lid: “I came into possession of an original work by Master Songming — the *Ascending Sparrow Tower* piece…”
He hadn’t even finished the sentence before Gao Shaowei’s eyes blazed: “Oh? Is this true?!”
“Absolutely true!”
Zhou Huaili removed the calligraphy scroll and handed it to Gao Shaowei. The expression on Gao Shaowei’s face as he opened it was the mirror image of Zhou Huaili’s the night before.
“Master.”
Zhou Huaili cleared his throat: “I have… a young man, a relative by family connection…”
He hadn’t finished before Gao Shaowei raised his eyes to look at him: “He wishes to come to the academy? Bring him tomorrow — it just so happens that a few other children are also coming to be assessed. I’ll look at them all together and select the promising ones.”
“Yes, yes, yes…”
Zhou Huaili bent in a quick bow: “Thank you, Master.”
Gao Shaowei looked at him, then looked back at the scroll: “This *Ascending Sparrow Tower* piece…”
Zhou Huaili said: “Master, please keep it here for study and appreciation. I am not presenting it as a gift — simply leaving it with you temporarily for your examination. You may study it for as long as you wish, as long as you wish.”
Gao Shaowei smiled briefly: “How could I dare accept something so precious. I’ll simply keep it for a few days of careful study, then send it back to you.”
“Wonderful, wonderful.”
Zhou Huaili bowed once more: “Then I won’t take up any more of Master’s time — I’ll be on my way.”
Gao Shaowei’s eyes never left the calligraphy, yet he waved a hand toward the door: “Attendant — prepare some food and wine. Huaili brother and I have not met in a long while. We must sit and talk at length.”
—