Chapter Twenty-Four: The Whole Story

Back in the Huiluo military camp, Zhang Ziyang seemed as if he had returned home, leaping with joy and utterly delighted.

“Cousin, cousin, are you here?” Zhang Ziyang called out loudly. The patrolling soldiers, clearly accustomed to this scene, let him pass without the slightest hesitation.

He lifted the curtain of the command tent and slipped inside. Within the tent sat three people: the cousin Zhang Ziyang had called for, a stern-faced man, and a graceful young lady.

Had Li Zisheng been present, he would certainly have recognized the two young women as none other than Zhang Shuling and Zhang Shufeng, whom he had encountered on the hillside behind Tianshui Village a few days prior.

Upon seeing the man seated in the center of the tent, Zhang Ziyang’s excitement was instantly extinguished, as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over him.

“Uncle, greetings,” Zhang Ziyang said respectfully, bowing before the man.

He felt rather aggrieved. He’d set out in high spirits to find Li Zisheng, only to be doused by his mentor, then scolded and kicked by his older brother whom he hadn’t seen in some time. Now, after finally hearing the good news of his cousin’s arrival, he had calculated it was midday and the chance of his uncle being in the tent was slim—yet here was his uncle again, as if fate itself conspired against him.

“Ziyang, I have been here for some days now. Why have you not come to pay your respects? If you persist in this unruly behavior, you may as well return to Chang’an and spare your parents further worry,” the middle-aged man said sternly.

Though his tone was severe, Zhang Ziyang could sense that his uncle had no intention of pursuing the matter. Relieved, he let out a silent sigh.

“Haha, uncle, my mentor brought me into the Huiluo Academy, and I have only just completed my admission procedures these past couple of days. That is why I haven’t yet had the chance to visit. I beg your forgiveness,” Zhang Ziyang replied with utmost respect.

“Very well. I am not a petty man. Speak then—what brings you here today?” The middle-aged man’s interest was piqued; it was clear he was fond of Zhang Ziyang.

“Uncle, not long ago cousin mentioned Li Zisheng to me, and he’s now become my classmate. So I’ve come to share some news about him with cousin.” Zhang Ziyang was evidently not one to keep secrets; with a few words, he had betrayed his younger cousin.

Zhang Shuling covered her face in embarrassment. Her little cousin was far too loose-tongued—just a few sentences and she was exposed, and to her own father no less. She resolved to share less with him in the future.

Careless words may mean little to the speaker, but much to the listener—especially one in authority. The middle-aged man had no son; Zhang Shuling was a late-born child, precious to him beyond measure. He had even turned down the company of more important figures to accompany her to Huiluo, intent on her protection.

Upon hearing Zhang Ziyang’s words, his heart skipped a beat. What? His daughter had found someone worth warning Zhang Ziyang about, and this person was a classmate—a young man! Could it be that his daughter was being deceived?

While his face remained stern, the man’s mind was running wild with anxious imaginings, convinced that his naïve daughter had been taken in by some scoundrel.

His stern expression began to darken with a hint of anger. Perhaps others would not have noticed, but Zhang Shufeng, knowing her uncle’s temperament, understood well his overprotective devotion to her cousin. She sensed he was already imagining Li Zisheng as a predatory villain.

Fearing her uncle would let his thoughts run further astray, Zhang Shufeng quickly stepped forward.

“Uncle, I know Li Zisheng as well. He’s about the same age as Zhang Ziyang, but in terms of learning, he far surpasses him,” Zhang Shufeng interjected, eager to smooth things over.

But Zhang Ziyang, proud as ever, bristled at this. What did she mean, ‘surpasses me’? If he’s so much better, then let’s have a contest! If he loses, he’ll spend his life in this county academy, living a quiet, unremarkable life.

“Oh? Shufeng, you hold this boy in such high regard? I must see for myself what makes him so worthy of your praise,” said the middle-aged man, setting aside his suspicions for the moment and growing curious. He was well aware of Zhang Ziyang’s abilities—so much so that even his own father had sent Zhang Ziyang to the Imperial College for a time. If not for recent events, his nephew would still be studying there.

“Shufeng, tell me about this young man,” the middle-aged man instructed. Zhang Shuling, standing to the side, several times wanted to speak but held her tongue, knowing her father’s disposition. If she spoke up now, she would only bring trouble to Li Zisheng. So she chose to remain silent.

“Yes, uncle. The other day, we visited the renowned scholar Master Cheng Zhongliang in Tianshui Village. On our way, we found ourselves admiring the snowy landscape behind the village, its beauty so refined and exquisite that we lingered for a while. It was then that we encountered Li Zisheng. We had arrived first and he came later, unaware of our presence. At that moment, he spontaneously recited the lines: ‘A thousand miles of silver sand, not a single trace; one bark of a dog, and the village lies in tranquil silence.’” Zhang Shufeng deliberately paused, waiting for her uncle’s appraisal.

“A thousand miles of silver sand, not a single trace; one bark of a dog, and the village lies in tranquil silence. ‘A thousand miles,’ ‘one bark’—excellent, truly excellent! What a line: ‘a thousand miles without a sound, a village at peace.’ I did not expect Tianshui to produce such talent. Go on,” the middle-aged man exclaimed, revealing his own scholarly refinement. Upon hearing those lines, he immediately knew Li Zisheng was no ordinary youth—a classmate of Zhang Ziyang, newly admitted to the county academy and, by all accounts, of similar age, yet with poetic skill and maturity that surpassed even Zhang Ziyang’s. Especially since Li Zisheng hailed from such a remote place, with little access to advanced learning, the sophistication of his poetry alone was enough to judge that his learning was at least on par with Zhang Ziyang’s, if not superior.