◎Today’s departure, returning to Luoyang, gazing from afar wishing you well.◎

The night was cold, wind and snow like cotton being pulled and fluff being torn.

Yu Qingwu unfolded the letters his teacher Wu Qingchuan had sent to the postal station.

All were family letters. One wrote that he had already purchased a residence for him in Luoyang, just waiting for him to move in. One wrote that he had composed several good poems recently but always felt some rhyme schemes weren’t written well. The most recent one even complained about eating Shuzhou cuisine throughout Luoyang yet unable to find a single authentic dish.

Writing about many trivial matters, whatever came to mind, sending them over impatiently—clearly his teacher truly missed him urgently.

Yu Qingwu felt joy in his heart. After carefully folding the letters and tucking them in his sleeves, he began to pick up his brush to write his daily record.

He had the habit of writing daily records since age six and had persisted all these years, rarely missing entries. But while youthful matters could still be written plainly in his records, after becoming an official, he could no longer write such truths.

So he omitted matters that couldn’t be spoken of openly, not writing the process, only jotting down one or two sighs.

Today was the same. First he straightforwardly wrote about heavy snow blocking roads making travel difficult, food along the way becoming expensive. Then omitting what he witnessed at the postal station, he wrote on paper without beginning or end: “Arriving at the postal station, was barked at wildly by a dog for no reason. Truly unlucky.”

Thinking it over, he recalled the Miss Lan beside the Third Lan Dog who never spoke a word throughout, and continued writing: “Beautiful women and dogs are not the same.”

Although Miss Lan’s initial glance at him was indeed quite strange, and she kept her head lowered and eyes downcast afterward, he could tell she held no disdain or disgust toward him.

Then he pondered that strange look but couldn’t figure out its meaning. He could only set down his brush first and pace about the room, making other plans for what he needed to do upon reaching Luoyang. When he came back to his senses, it was already the hour of Yin, dawn breaking.

He removed his clothes and went to bed. Just as he closed his eyes, suddenly as if blessed with sudden enlightenment, he sprang up alert to grind ink, then carefully picked up his brush: “First meeting under the corridor, she suspects I’m an old acquaintance.”

But he truly didn’t know her. Had they met sometime that he’d forgotten?

That shouldn’t be either. Miss Lan had an exceptionally fine pair of eyes, heroic brows and eyes, carrying a crisp and forthright air, and even a faint trace of killing intent. If he’d seen her, he wouldn’t forget.

Then he wouldn’t think about it anymore. He’d never been one who liked getting to the root of things.

Having written this, he finally felt comfortable, felt his day’s tasks were complete. So he fell asleep as soon as he touched the bed, sleeping until daybreak.

The snow finally stopped, the whole world pure and white.

When Yu Qingwu came downstairs, Third Young Master Lan was urging the postal station’s steward to have people clear the accumulated snow. The steward nodded and bowed obsequiously, but turned around and rolled his eyes dramatically—coincidentally, seen by Yu Qingwu.

The steward immediately showed a begging expression. Yu Qingwu smiled and nodded, and only then did he breathe a sigh of relief and leave, covered in sweat. Third Young Master Lan had already seen Yu Qingwu. His expression immediately worsened. When Yu Qingwu greeted him, he ignored it, only perfunctorily humming a sound before turning and leaving.

He brought a food box to have breakfast with Lan Shanjun, cursing: “A bunch of parasites in this postal station can’t even clear a path. If we’re not strict with them, they’ll treat us as decoration.”

Then speaking of Yu Qingwu, as if wanting to explain his spoken malice from yesterday, he eagerly vindicated himself: “He gained fame young and was taught with all Grand Secretary Wu’s heart and soul. At sixteen he already achieved Third Place Scholar rank. His prominence that year exceeded even the top scholar. So he was extremely arrogant, never regarding others properly, and even once fought with the eldest young master of the Marquis Boyuan household.”

Speaking to this point, he became even more contemptuous: “This isn’t strange either. Shuzhou has many barbarians, truly uncivilizable.”

Lan Shanjun finished eating a meat bun. Hearing the words “Shuzhou barbarians uncivilizable,” she suddenly understood why she couldn’t get along peacefully with this Third Brother back then.

Such words—she must have heard them before and felt uncomfortable, insisting on remembering them in her heart, waiting for an opportunity someday to secretly curse back before feeling satisfied. But being young then, just arrived in Luoyang, still fearful on her own, probably cursed back yet feared his blame, thus unable to sleep at night.

Feeling satisfied yet not satisfied.

She spent two years at the Duke Zhenguo manor like this.

Truly quite conflicted. She probably once hated such an awkward version of herself back then. But now having had her edges worn smooth, even her stubborn bones sprinkled with soft light, she found her former self vivid and alive.

What was wrong with it anyway? Examining it carefully, coming from humble origins to a wealthy family, being able to achieve what she did back then was already quite good.

At least she never suffered verbal losses.

Now even less likely to suffer losses.

Lan Shanjun smiled softly, picked up a meat bun, and said with calm composure: “I don’t see how he’s necessarily so arrogant.”

Third Young Master Lan frowned: “How not necessarily?”

Lan Shanjun: “Yesterday Third Brother was impolite to him. Did he speak disrespectfully to you or strike you?”

Third Young Master Lan had his reasons: “We’re the Duke Zhenguo manor. Even if he relies on Grand Secretary Wu’s influence, he wouldn’t dare show off before me.”

With an aggrieved tone, he complained: “Sister, I don’t like him—first because his character is poor, a petty person achieving success, and second because our First Uncle and Second Uncle perished in Shuzhou. Grandfather and Father even suffered misfortune because of it, guarding the Three Pure Ones for over ten years, rarely returning home.”

“Our family and Shuzhou have a blood feud.”

“Therefore my dislike of Yu Qingwu is truly understandable.”

As such, blurting out a few improper remarks shouldn’t count as anything.

He spoke at length, feeling quite wronged himself. Lan Shanjun finally couldn’t help reminding him of something: “But Third Brother, I’m also from Shuzhou.”

Third Young Master Lan froze, immediately correcting: “You’re not from Shuzhou, you’re from Luoyang.”

Lan Shanjun: “But I was born in Shuzhou, grew up in Shuzhou. I’m extremely closely tied to those two characters ‘Shuzhou’ that Third Brother detests.”

Third Young Master Lan thought she feared he’d have prejudice against her and quickly said, “You’re my sister, how would I treat you poorly?”

He consoled: “Luoyang speech is easy to learn. In less than half a year, you can change your accent.”

Lan Shanjun found it amusing: “What if I’m unwilling to change?”

Third Young Master Lan frowned: “What?”

Lan Shanjun: “What if I’m unwilling to change?”

She wasn’t saying “hometown accents are difficult to change” or “I’m afraid I can’t change it completely and will still have Shuzhou tones,” but directly said she was unwilling to change.

Because of this sentence, Third Young Master Lan’s brows furrowed into a knot: “Why not change?”

Lan Shanjun set down her chopsticks, sitting properly upright: “Because I like this Shuzhou accent and don’t want to change it.”

Unlike her intelligence in learning characters and memorizing texts, she’d been slow at learning speech since childhood, always unable to pronounce words clearly. At five years old, she still kept calling Master “Master Tiger.”

The old monk was quite vexed, correcting bit by bit: “Shanjun, although this master named you Tiger, it’s not used this way by you.”

Later having learned to speak clearly, she had to learn Shuzhou dialect.

Her Shuzhou speech initially wasn’t authentic. The old monk wasn’t from Shuzhou. She heard that at first he also didn’t learn to speak Shuzhou dialect, even telling her proudly: “A monk from outside knows how to chant sutras, naturally receives more alms.”

But later he said: “Little Shanjun, I’m old, about to die. It doesn’t matter if I don’t speak Shuzhou dialect, but you cannot. You must learn to speak their language. This way they won’t bully you.”

The old monk first went to the village to learn, then came back to teach her after learning. Bit by bit, he finally made her a true Shuzhou person, speaking authentic Shuzhou dialect.

But this speech learned so carefully, upon arriving at the Duke Zhenguo manor, became a fault. Everyone wanted her to change, even though she spoke Mandarin, merely carrying Shuzhou tones.

They all said: “Your First Uncle and Second Uncle died in Shuzhou. You carrying this Shuzhou accent—aren’t you stabbing your grandmother’s heart?”

Lan Shanjun didn’t understand: “Then I just won’t go near Grandmother.”

But still no. Mother advised: “You must change. How can people from our family speak with Shuzhou tones? As long as you want to change, you can definitely change it.”

The more they were like this, the more stubborn she became. Never mind that hometown accents were hard to change—even if she could completely change it, she was unwilling.

So she raised her head, dropped to her knees with a thud, and said loudly: “Mother, say no more. I’ll just kneel!”

Though previously stubbornly unwilling to completely change, she herself actually didn’t understand why. Now with increased years, she could explain it clearly, knowing what she knelt for those two years.

So she spoke in defense of her former self: “This was taught to me word by word after my master went to learn it, making my life much easier. I don’t want to change. I want to fulfill filial duty and preserve my roots.”

Third Young Master Lan perhaps hadn’t expected her to say this. Stunned for a moment, the bun in his hand accidentally fell to the ground: “What?”

Lan Shanjun smiled without speaking. She knew he heard clearly.

Third Young Master Lan’s brows furrowed enough to clamp a meat bun. He wanted to say a few words about family rules not tolerating the word Shuzhou, much less tolerating the roots she wanted to preserve. But ultimately considering sibling affection, unable to directly refute her filial duty and proper conduct, he could only stand up and say: “These matters… let’s discuss them after returning home. I’ll go feed the horses first.”

His chest still felt stifled, always feeling this sister’s temperament was vastly different from the sisters at home. After returning home, there would probably be a period of commotion.

At that time, he’d just have Mother teach her properly.

He left hastily, just colliding with a postal station servant rushing over carrying noodles. He cursed: “Stupid turtle, you even dare bump into me!”

The servant’s face turned pale with fright, constantly begging forgiveness and kowtowing. After the person left in a huff, only then did he dare enter the room carrying the noodles. Looking up, he saw Miss Lan picking up the bun from the ground and putting it directly in her mouth without even brushing off the dirt.

He widened his eyes, set down the noodles, and went back to mutter with the steward: “Truly strange, the two siblings are vastly different—one with nostrils pointing skyward, one with mouth eating dirt.”

……

The next day the weather finally cleared. The snowy roads were also cleared out. Because of yesterday’s unpleasantness, Third Young Master Lan said somewhat unnaturally to Lan Shanjun: “We must hurry back.”

Lan Shanjun, however, acted as if yesterday’s events never happened, smiling and saying: “Alright.”

Only then did Third Young Master Lan’s expression improve somewhat.

He rode his horse with Lan Shanjun’s carriage beside him, followed by several servants. There weren’t many trunks either, quite light and convenient. The postal station chief came out to see them off, respectfully. Third Young Master Lan felt very comfortable being flattered by this attitude. Feeling comfortable and comfortable, ultimately due to his nature, he couldn’t resist asking: “Where is Magistrate Yu?”

The postal station chief: “Magistrate Yu is still inside the postal station.”

Just as he finished speaking, they saw the man leading his horse out, facing them from several zhang away.

The snowy ground was pure white. He wore simple plain cloth robes, leading a spirited fine horse, also looking toward them.

Third Young Master Lan curled his lip. But Lan Shanjun suddenly remembered that the first line of his journal read: The thirty-fourth year of Yuanshao, I was seven years old, met Teacher Wu, received the gift of a young colt. Teacher’s instruction: If it benefits the state, give life or death to it. I respectfully remember these words, fearing I’ll forget, thus recording this daily.

And in the fifty-seventh year of Yuanshao, when his head was severed by his teacher’s blade, she also personally witnessed this now-aged horse charge into the execution ground trying to carry away his corpse. Unable to succeed, it wailed with tears and crashed to death on the stone pillar binding half his body.

Lan Shanjun sighed, suddenly feeling sympathetic sorrow, then across the vast snowy ground, gave him a barely visible curtsy.

Regardless of past events, she truly had relied on the lofty ambitions in his journal to endure day after day.

Meeting today, returning to Luoyang, gazing from afar wishing you well.