Chapter 82: The Cui Family Sends an Urgent Plea, Lord Du Rushes Home to Protect

Another year of deep winter in the twelfth month had arrived. Since Lu Hong had returned from the Eastern Capital in February, after the emperor bestowed official rank upon him, not only did the authorities restore and expand the thatched cottages, but he was also granted the garb of a recluse. As the court and the people praised the emperor’s magnanimity, Lu’s Cottage became another famed retreat on Mount Song. Seekers of knowledge and visitors streamed in endlessly; at its busiest, the crowd exceeded five hundred.

But now, in this season, the once teeming cottages beneath the Hanging Banner Peak of Mount Song, where scholarly youths in Confucian robes were everywhere, seemed much diminished. As the twelfth month began, students from distant prefectures and counties outside the Heluo region took their leave and returned home, and in recent days, even the sons of Heluo embarked upon their journeys. This newfound tranquility was unaccustomed for some.

Cui Jianxuan, bored and restless, sat slumped on his seat, hand propping his chin, eyes fixed on Lu Hong, who stood behind a tall bamboo writing desk, absorbed in painting. Seeing that Lu Wangzhi, Pei Ning, and Du Shiyi were all watching intently, he quietly rose and shuffled over. The long scroll was nearly complete; he rubbed his chin, then nudged Du Shiyi and whispered, “Is Master Lu nearly finished?”

Lu Hong had labored over this scroll for several days. Each time he thought it done, he would add a new scene, supplementing endlessly. At last, as Cui Jianxuan grew impatient, Du Shiyi replied quietly, “Master Lu’s painting captures the beauty of the local mountains and forests—it must be flawless.”

“Nineteen, you’re only half right. The grandeur of the mountains and forests cannot be captured by a mere brush. To paint landscapes is to seek the essence, but in the end, it depends on what lies within one’s heart. If you carry the scenery within, a mere closing of the eyes brings it before you; with inspiration, the brush moves as if guided by something divine. Though you’ve only studied painting for a few months, let me teach you this principle first.” Lu Hong smiled, set down his brush, and as Du Shiyi nodded, he continued, “It’s been half a year since I started using the ink you made. It is hard as jade, sharp enough to cut paper while grinding, and the ink’s spread is flawless—a fine ink indeed! You are full of ideas; had you not had Tian Mo craft this tall desk, I would have had you stretching paper for days more before these ten scenes could be completed. Wangzhi, once the ink dries, store the painting away.”

Lu Wangzhi accepted his instruction, and Pei Ning helped Lu Hong to his seat. Hearing the wind howl outside, Pei Ning remarked, “Fortunately, the cottages have just been renovated; they are more windproof and rainproof than before, and the firewood and charcoal are plentiful. Otherwise, this year is colder than ever, and with three or four dozen people staying for the New Year, it would be difficult to arrange.”

“But that means more people are here to celebrate the New Year with Master Lu.” Lu Wangzhi, coming from behind the desk, chuckled. “Last year, our youngest disciple cooked the vegetables and soup, with Thirteen Lady helping, so we only had seven or eight people staying. This year, Thirteen Lady is away, but Third Brother has returned, and Ninth Brother won’t go back to Luoyang, making it livelier. Tomorrow is the eighth day of the twelfth month, and since there were no locusts this year, the county office in Dengfeng decided to hold a grand official sacrifice at the Eight Sacrifices Temple. They sent someone over this morning, asking if our youngest disciple would attend.”

Though Du Shiyi had just heard of this, he shook his head with a smile. “Since it’s an official ceremony, let the authorities handle it. What would a scholar like me do there? Please decline on my behalf, Senior Brother.”

Cui Jianxuan seized the rare opportunity and complained, “Count how many times you’ve gone out since returning to the mountain! Apart from those ink craftsmen who come pestering you, and the two times I dragged you to Shaolin Temple, you’re becoming a bookworm!”

Pei Ning cut in coldly, “Tenth Brother is far too devoted to his studies, while you constantly look for excuses to slack off. If you two could complement each other, Master Lu would have peace of mind!”

Cui Jianxuan was frustrated, but seeing Lu Hong smiling, he felt a pang of guilt. Over the past half year, the number of students at the cottage had multiplied, and Lu Hong formally took three more disciples, with five others recommended. If not for the different subjects each studied, and the monthly exams being unique to each, he would have found life unbearable. Fortunately, aside from coursework, Lu Hong imposed no restrictions; sometimes he and Du Shiyi would accompany him to visit friends at other peaks, temples, and cottages on Mount Song. Life was far more pleasant than at home in the Eastern Capital. The only unpleasant thing was that whatever Du Shiyi studied, Pei Ning forced him to study too, and whenever the exam involved the lute or painting, those were the days he suffered most.

“Eleven, you may be somewhat lazy, but you have talent. Just remember, don’t always follow your own inclinations in everything; that will suffice.”

Hearing Lu Hong’s admonition, Du Shiyi winked at Cui Jianxuan, who snorted and bowed obediently to accept the teaching. He then suggested to Lu Hong that they make porridge tomorrow. At this time, the eighth day of the twelfth month was a day for the emperor’s winter sacrifice; the porridge tradition of later eras was unknown. As Du Shiyi listed the types of beans to use, Lu Wangzhi laughed that it would help ward off the cold, but Pei Ning frowned, “Nineteen, your idea is much too troublesome!”

Despite his complaint, the next morning Du Shiyi awoke to the aroma of beans. He found his way to the kitchen, where the elderly cook Ah Huang was directing two cooks sent by the authorities to add beans to the pot. Seeing him, she scolded, “Yesterday evening Pei Ning told me it was your idea, so today we’re making bean porridge. But gathering all those beans was no easy task—I searched everywhere before I managed to collect most of them.”

Du Shiyi knew Ah Huang had served Lu Hong the longest, so he thanked her with a smile, secretly noting that Pei Ning, though stern-faced, was warm-hearted and had quietly arranged everything. The porridge simmered from dawn till dusk, and everyone staying at the cottage received a large bowl. The taste was secondary; it was the warmth of heart that mattered. Though Lu Hong no longer held lectures, he often gathered the remaining students for debates, poetry societies, and literary meetings, making the cold days carefree and pleasant.

Days passed, and one afternoon, Du Shiyi and Cui Jianxuan returned sweaty from sword practice behind the valley. Tian Mo rushed over like a gust of wind, barely able to catch his breath, and exclaimed, “Master, Master Cui, a messenger from the Cui residence in Yongfeng Lane of the Eastern Capital has arrived—it’s an urgent matter!”

Hearing “urgent,” Du Shiyi and Cui Jianxuan exchanged looks, anxiety rising within. They hurried to their cottage, only to find a man pacing out front. Seeing them, he approached quickly. “Master, the Grand Lady’s old illness has returned and is severe. Please hurry home!”

Cui Jianxuan had already sent a letter home, saying he would stay on the mountain this year. Hearing his grandmother was gravely ill, his face changed dramatically, and without a word, he dashed toward Lu Hong’s cottage. Du Shiyi, realizing what had happened, saw him already far ahead, then suddenly slip and fall heavily on the frozen ground. Ignoring the messenger, Du Shiyi hurried after him. Reaching his side, he intended to help, but Cui Jianxuan struggled to his feet and pressed forward, heedless.

“A moment’s haste doesn’t matter, but if you injure yourself and can’t ride, what then?”

Du Shiyi grabbed his arm and finally got him safely to Lu Hong. Lu Hong, having learned of the Grand Lady’s illness, spoke before they could utter a word, “Eleven, return to the Eastern Capital at once. If anything happens, send someone to inform me.” Seeing Cui Jianxuan nod repeatedly and turn to leave, Lu Hong glanced at the dust-stained hem of his robe and added, “Don’t be too rash on your journey. The Grand Lady’s greatest wish is your safe and happy return!”

Despite these words, Cui Jianxuan nodded in a daze, clearly distraught. Lu Hong’s heart was heavy with worry. As he looked to speak, Du Shiyi interjected, “Master, the cold is severe—let me accompany Eleven back. Not only is Thirteen Lady staying at the Cui residence, but the Grand Lady and I share a surname, and as a junior, I ought to pay my respects.”

“Very well.” Hearing this, Lu Hong felt reassured and nodded. “Go with Eleven to the Eastern Capital.”

Cui Jianxuan, full of fear and anxiety, cast Du Shiyi a grateful glance. As Du Shiyi helped him out, he muttered, “It’s only a fall—I’m not incapable of walking…”

“Enough! If the master hadn’t worried you’d rush headlong and get into trouble, he wouldn’t have relaxed when I offered to go with you. No need to pack—just change clothes and set out immediately!”

By the time Lu Wangzhi and Pei Ning returned from the county office and heard the news, Du Shiyi and Cui Jianxuan had already departed with their attendants. When the two senior brothers hurried to Lu Hong’s cottage, Lu Wangzhi saw a handful of copper coins scattered before Lu Hong’s seat. Knowing Lu Hong was versed in divination but seldom used such tools, he frowned, approached quietly, and asked, “Master, are you divining for the Grand Lady?”

“The Grand Lady is elderly; even if there’s tragedy, it is fate. I was moved to cast lots for Eleven and Nineteen.” Lu Hong sighed, then managed a bitter smile. “One is diligent, the other lazy; one orderly, the other impulsive; one knows what he wants, the other drifts aimlessly—yet their friendship is deep. Nineteen has copied countless books in less than three years, read nearly every historical account, grasped the essence, and his compositions are unique. He has a solid foundation and works hard, so he’s able to grasp other doctrines as well… Alas!”

Lu Wangzhi and Pei Ning exchanged glances and sighed. Suddenly, Lu Wangzhi remembered something and said, “By the way, Nineteen’s uncle sent a letter from Youzhou to the county office. Zhao Mingfu wanted to deliver it, but since I and Third Brother were there, I brought it back.”

“Oh?” Lu Hong raised his brows in surprise, then mused, “In that case, wait another day or two. Wangzhi or Third Brother can go to the Eastern Capital, tell Eleven and Nineteen not to rush back, and deliver the letter. Also, send the books Nineteen copied, and tell him to return to Jingzhao Prefecture. Next year is the year for essay exams—let him try for the Jingzhao qualification.”

Both men were startled, but Lu Hong gave no further explanation. After dismissing them, he looked down at the seemingly random copper coins.

Du Shiyi’s lot was small misfortune and great fortune; but for Cui Jianxuan… the omen was clearly dire.