Chapter 32: Forgetting the Old for the New

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At the Wind Tomb Ferry, a gaunt man was anxiously waiting for the boat. His entire body reeked of wine, and a large gourd hung from his back; his disheveled appearance marked him as someone whom fortune had long deserted. The Yellow River had overflowed after last night's heavy rain, forcing the ferry to cease its crossings for the time being, so dozens of travelers were stranded here, unable to continue.

The gaunt man, bored by the wait, wandered here and there until his interest was piqued by some writing on a wall. It was a five-character poem; he read it aloud, then studied the handwriting with great attention. Suddenly, he cried out, “Ah!”

“You’ve noticed the poem too, sir? It was composed just yesterday by a certain Gentleman Ye...” A nearby ferryman came over, chuckling as he recounted the events of the previous day. The gaunt man clicked his tongue in amazement, “Never did I, never did I expect to encounter such a person...”

His speech stuttered slightly, but as he continued to examine the poem and the calligraphy, he began to gesticulate with excitement, unable to contain himself.

Strictly speaking, Ye Chang’s calligraphy was not particularly distinguished, which was why Qian Qi and Yuan Gonglu criticized it as being overly labored. Yet after that, Ye Chang had spent much time refining his style; the characters he’d written on this wooden fence were rendered in a hand he’d become accustomed to in another life, using a hard-tipped pen, and so, compared to what Qian Qi had seen, they had greatly improved.

That Madam Gongsun had paid little attention to the calligraphy was hardly surprising. Her sword-dance had already reached near-perfection; even renowned calligraphy masters sought inspiration from her movements. But this man was different—though he understood the art, he could not wield the brush himself, yet among his friends were some of the era’s greatest calligraphers.

“Marvelous, marvelous! This should be shown to him—if he saw it, he would surely be changed... Was this written with charcoal? Ah, that’s troublesome!” Only now did the gaunt man realize the inscription was made with charcoal—one careless touch would destroy it. He paced about in distress, sighing, “This is a disaster! If it is lost, it will be a regret for the ages! Wait—I have an idea!”

After much deliberation, he began dismantling the wooden boards. The watermen, alarmed, cried out, “What are you doing? Why are you taking down the wall?”

“Here are five coins; I’ll buy these boards from you.” He pulled a few coins from his pocket. “Left here, exposed to sun and rain, or with others scrawling ‘I was here,’ it will be ruined!”

In his agitation, his stutter vanished. Since they had nothing else to do, the watermen pocketed the money and helped him remove the boards bearing the writing. The long planks were awkward to carry, so the gaunt man borrowed a saw and cut away only the parts with characters. Glancing at the sky, he removed his clothes and carefully wrapped the planks. Satisfied, he said, “Now it’s safe; this must not be lost!”

He waited until nearly noon, when the river finally calmed and the wind died down, before crossing the Yellow River. Though traveling on foot, he moved swiftly, passing Tong Pass before day’s end.

As he crossed the river, Ye Chang, astride his old nag, bowed to Madam Gongsun, “Today’s events, I owe to your help.”

Madam Gongsun smiled faintly. Though already past forty, her smile retained a captivating allure. “You jest, Gentleman Ye. The trouble was of our own making; it is we who wronged you.”

Beside her, Mistress Chen gave a soft snort, tilting her head away.

Ye Chang could only force a bitter smile. Mistress Chen was not an easy person; because he had offended her with his frank words, after killing that man, she’d even set a trap so that Ji Wen believed it was Shi Shanzhi who’d done it.

“Our journey was to kill this villain. Mistress Chen has studied the sword with me for five years, all to avenge her husband’s death.” Madam Gongsun continued, “Ji Wen is the sub-prefect of Xinfeng; the murdered official was both his subordinate and Mistress Chen’s enemy.”

Mistress Chen’s eyes reddened at these words.

“In short, it was we who brought this trouble upon you. Gentleman Ye, I apologize again.”

Ye Chang fell silent. Madam Gongsun’s style was forthright and bold, but Ye Chang felt she was perhaps a bit too forthright. No wonder her sword-dance was so acclaimed, and had several times been performed before Emperor Li Longji, but she could not remain in Chang’an, always forced to wander. With her temperament, she’d never long endure in any noble household, let alone the emperor’s deep and treacherous court.

“Mistress Chen is courageous and responsible, but... are you truly returning to Beihai to confess?”

Just earlier, when Ji Wen had pressed so hard that Ye Chang was at a loss, Madam Gongsun had stepped forward, not only intimidating Ji Wen into holding his tongue, but also admitting that it was her disciple, Mistress Chen, who had killed Ji Wen’s subordinate. She went further, stating that the case began with the subordinate having killed Mistress Chen’s husband in Beihai, and so Mistress Chen would return there to confess to Prefect Li Yong.

Perhaps daunted by Madam Gongsun’s reputation, or by Prefect Li Yong’s influence, Ji Wen had accepted Mistress Chen’s promise and set the matter aside. Yet from his cold, sullen gaze, it was clear he had not truly given up.

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“Gentleman Ye, are you headed to Chang’an?” Madam Gongsun asked again.

“Yes,” he replied.

“With your poetry, I fear that in Chang’an... it will not be easy to make your mark,” Madam Gongsun said softly.

Ye Chang paused, suddenly realizing she took him for one of those many scholars of the age—writing poems, dreaming of arriving in Chang’an to amaze the world, win favor, and ascend to glory.

He responded with sincerity, “I am no poet, nor a man of letters. The poem at Wind Tomb Ferry yesterday was but a copy.”

“Ah...” For a moment, Madam Gongsun was at a loss. The speech she’d prepared was instantly rendered useless. She could only offer an awkward farewell, “If that is so, then... I bid you goodbye.”

Madam Gongsun, straightforward by nature, had thought Ye Chang, so young yet capable of such verses and calligraphy, was worth her guidance, but feared he might be too proud and intended to first temper his spirit. Yet with one humble sentence, Ye Chang had humbled himself; she now saw that the seemingly naive youth was actually quite shrewd.

Madam Gongsun disliked overly clever young men. Thus, after her brief farewell, she took Mistress Chen and left.

Their carriage turned back, seemingly as Madam Gongsun had said, to return to Beihai and confess to Li Yong.

“Eleventh Brother, do you think they’ll truly confess?” Shi Shanzhi asked.

He was completely bewildered now. First, he had inexplicably become the murder suspect in the sub-prefect’s eyes; then Mistress Chen confessed; then Ji Wen didn’t pursue Mistress Chen but instead told him to go to Beihai and confess... The monk could not understand how, in these people's eyes, the laws of the Great Tang could be played with so lightly.

“I don’t know,” Ye Chang answered truthfully. “We’ve wasted enough time today. I must hurry, try to reach Chang’an in two days. Will you travel with me, Master Shanzhi?”

“Why not?” Shanzhi replied, somewhat confused.

Ye Chang smiled wryly. Asking this thick-headed monk was pointless. Ji Wen was not a broad-minded man; they might still encounter him in Chang’an, and he’d surely remember Shanzhi. Who knew what trouble might ensue? But telling Shanzhi so would only provoke his stubbornness—it had already taken much effort to keep him from killing that accursed official. Considering that Ji Wen, as sub-prefect, seemed in a hurry, Ye Chang reasoned that as long as they traveled more slowly, they should not meet.

“Let’s go!” he called.

Intentionally dragging their feet, they missed another inn that night, having to seek shelter in the wild. But as they left the mountains, settlements became more frequent, and soon they found a family willing to let them sleep in their woodshed. That night, Ye Chang borrowed their pot, paid a few coins for some vegetables, and cooked a meal that made Shanzhi beam with delight.

Yet as Shanzhi took up his bowl, he frowned and suddenly began to weep.

“Hey, Master Shanzhi, I’m treating you to dinner, not asking for money. Why are you crying?” Ye Chang asked in alarm.

“How can I not weep? When I was at the monastery, my master said I’d never grasp true emptiness, being too fond of food. I’m no good as a monk. Recently, my cravings got the better of me—I ate someone’s dog, and my master expelled me from the temple...”

Ye Chang’s eyes widened in astonishment. Why did this monk’s story sound so familiar?

“You’re Shi Shanzhi, not Jueyuan, right?” Ye Chang asked.

“Master Jueyuan passed away years ago. Of course I’m not him... But why do you ask, Gentleman Ye?”

“I’ve heard that Master Jueyuan of Shaolin loved dog meat, and now you say you were expelled for eating dog—so I was just curious.” Ye Chang scratched his chin, wondering if he should continue to gossip, and whether the dog he stole belonged to some shepherdess.

“I didn’t know Master Jueyuan liked dog meat,” Shanzhi replied, then began to cry again. “Since leaving the mountain, I’m always hungry. No monastery will take me in—either they complain I eat too much, or that I like eating meat...”

He went on and on about his monkhood, a burly, ugly monk sobbing like a child, leaving Ye Chang speechless. “Monk, what is it you’re after?”

“After eating your food, I can’t bear to eat anything else. How am I to live after this?”

Even as he cried, Shanzhi kept sneaking glances at Ye Chang.

Ye Chang was at a loss. After a while, seeing Shanzhi still wailing, he finally said wearily, “Monk, if you’re going to put on a show, at least do it properly. Even if you can’t utter stirring words about ‘calamity fostering greatness,’ you could at least gaze at the stars and show some true feeling, not just bawl and sneak looks at me... You just want a guaranteed meal ticket, right? Fine, you have it!”

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Shanzhi was overjoyed, instantly stopping his tears, his face showing no trace of sorrow. “Truly?”

“If I refused, would you leave?” Ye Chang retorted.

“I wouldn’t leave. Even if you drove me off, I’d stay!” Shanzhi’s gaze was unwavering.

Ye Chang felt the hairs on his neck rise. Before he could tell Shanzhi to keep his distance, there was a noise outside the woodshed: “Ugh!”

“Who’s there?” Shanzhi roared, furious—Ye Chang had finally agreed to provide for him, and now his sweet dream was being interrupted!

“Ah, carry on, carry on. The love of Longyang has existed since ancient times, nothing to be ashamed of... Ugh!”

Standing outside, shirtless and carrying a cloth bundle, was a gaunt man. He barely managed to compose himself, but at the sight of Shanzhi, he began retching again.

“What are you vomiting for?”

“I just can’t stomach it. If you’re fond of ‘split peach’ or ‘cut sleeve’ affairs, at least pick a handsome youth—not such an ugly monk!”

The man, still somewhat drunk, spoke with shocking candor. Ye Chang nearly fainted from anger. Shanzhi, still not comprehending, said, “I may be ugly, but I grow on people. After a while, you get used to me. Affection comes with time...”

Ye Chang rolled his eyes and almost collapsed.

“Hearing a monk say such things—excuse me, I need to vomit again.” The gaunt man could not help himself.

“Gentleman Ye, about what we just agreed... Gentleman Ye? Gentleman Ye!”

The monk seized Ye Chang’s shoulder and shook him vigorously. Unable to feign unconsciousness any longer, Ye Chang could only recover and weakly thump his own forehead.

He’d always known this monk was a handful, but at least he claimed to be a formidable fighter, even able to match Madam Gongsun. Having such a man around was not a bad thing.

Turning to the gaunt man, Ye Chang bowed and asked, “May I ask, sir, why you were eavesdropping on our conversation?”

“I missed the inn, so I came here for shelter. The owner said there was space in the woodshed.” The gaunt man was a little embarrassed, realizing he’d stumbled onto a private moment. “I truly did not mean to overhear. Please, continue—I’ll find somewhere else.”

“Ahem, please don’t misunderstand. Master Shanzhi was only jesting...”

“I was not jesting. I meant it sincerely...”

“Monk, be quiet!”

“Why should I? What did I do wrong?”

“Just be quiet until I’m done with this gentleman...”

“I see how it is, Gentleman Ye. You’re fickle—you see someone new and forget the old!”

The gaunt man had been listening with amusement, but at these words he recoiled in alarm, clutching his bundle and backing away, waving his hands. “No, no... I don’t go in for that. You two carry on; I’ll take my leave!”

“Wait...”

Ye Chang had barely spoken before the gaunt man, like a startled deer, had already fled, calling out as he went, “No waiting, no waiting, don’t see me off, don’t follow...”

All Ye Chang could do was sigh as he watched the man’s figure vanish into the night.