Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Secrets of the Celestial Bureau Revealed Again

The brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were now laid out before Li Zisheng. Gazing at the elderly man in front of him and the brush in his hand, Li Zisheng carefully wrote out the prescription, stroke by stroke. He felt that any mistake or untidiness in his writing would be a disrespect to the intentions of the venerable elder before him.

Thus, the characters in the prescription were sharp and well-proportioned, arranged with pleasing irregularity.

Those present naturally admired Li Zisheng’s handwriting. Especially the elders seated there, some weakened by age, who praised the young man’s calligraphy all the more. As the saying goes, handwriting reflects the person’s character and state of mind.

“Who would have thought there was such a prodigy of calligraphy in Lingzhou?” the old man thought to himself, perhaps his fate truly lay here.

Though this young physician’s script was not that of a grand master nor followed any renowned style, it was already at an advanced level. Judging by his appearance, he seemed just a mere youth, yet his calligraphy had clearly reached a high degree of refinement.

Such skill is not born of secret manuals or shortcuts, but painstaking, step-by-step diligence. For one so young to have attained this mastery, it was clear he was a diligent and teachable youth indeed.

The old man’s heart swelled with admiration for talent.

Li Zisheng, meanwhile, was deeply absorbed in pondering the effectiveness of the prescription and failed to notice that his calligraphy had just broken through its previous plateau, reaching this refined stage. Yet, such things were usually noticed by others before oneself.

“Zhang Ying, go gather the herbs according to the young doctor's prescription. Even living one more day would be a blessing to me,” the old man said.

“Sir,” Zhang Ying, tall and reluctant, handed the prescription to his trusted aide and sent him off to fetch the medicine.

“Young doctor, may I know your name?” the elder asked with a smile, though his breathing was labored and speech slow.

“Sir, my name is Li Zisheng,” the youth replied respectfully.

“What? You say your name is Li Zisheng?”

Upon hearing his name, everyone present seemed to realize something extraordinary. All eyes fixed intently on Li Zisheng.

Surprised by their gaze, Li Zisheng felt a moment of awkwardness, which quickly faded. He wondered why his name elicited such astonishment, as if they had seen a ghost.

“Sir, is there something wrong with my name?” Li Zisheng asked with curiosity.

“Oh, no, no, I was out of line,” the old man said, his face flushed with a mix of joy and surprise.

“Allow me to address you as Zisheng,” he added, his voice growing steadier.

“You flatter me, sir. It is no trouble at all,” Li Zisheng bowed deeply, returning the gesture with a smile.

“Zisheng, are you familiar with the Celestial Bureau?” the elder asked, mentioning a place Li Zisheng had never expected.

“The Celestial Bureau?” Li Zisheng repeated instinctively.

“So you know of it, Zisheng. That makes things much easier,” the old man said with a hint of surprise, quickly regaining his composure.

“Sir, you should rest now,” Zhang Ying stepped forward, concerned for the elder’s frail condition, but the old man waved him off, insisting it was better to explain clearly now.

“This illness of mine has plagued me for many years. I know my days are numbered. I have been resting quietly at home, reading, tending flowers, and cultivating my spirit. But recently, the sickness has worsened. I had hoped to pass away peacefully at home.

“But our current emperor plans to perform the grand Fengshan ceremony on Mount Tai, a matter of utmost national importance. As a subject of the Tang Dynasty, I must contribute. So I joined with the great scholars of our land to compile texts to assist the emperor in this sacred rite. Yet treacherous foes obstructed us, and dozens of our top scholars were slaughtered overnight.”

The old man paused, struggling to catch his breath. Li Zisheng and the others waited patiently.

Though they were aware of these events, Li Zisheng had not known the details. As the elder spoke, waves of emotion stirred within him. He had never imagined this venerable man before him held such a prestigious position—one who could summon the greatest intellects of the realm. His bearing was truly remarkable.

Despite the turmoil within, Li Zisheng maintained a composed and steady expression, which the elder greatly admired.

“Truly a chosen one of the Celestial Bureau, extraordinary beyond measure,” he murmured.

“The massacre of those scholars has drawn the emperor’s attention. The Fengshan ceremony is the foundation of the nation’s honor, a supreme act that must not falter. I must endure as long as I can, to fulfill my heart’s wish,” the old man said solemnly, as if gazing toward Mount Tai with reverence.

“Yet I am aware my time is short. You may wonder why, given my condition, I traveled all this way to Lingzhou, when rest would serve me better. Do you know why?”

The question puzzled Li Zisheng.

But seeing the elder’s earnest expression, a sudden thought arose: could this old man’s journey to Lingzhou be connected to him?

He quickly dismissed the notion—he did not even know this man, let alone inspire such a journey.

“My arduous journey to Lingzhou has but one purpose: to find a destined person,” the elder said, smiling at Li Zisheng.

Even the simplest could see the old man had come seeking him; otherwise, his demeanor would not be so.

“Could it be, sir, that the destined person you speak of is me?” Li Zisheng asked, curiosity stirring in his voice.