Chapter Eight: A Letter from Li Ji (Second Update)

Carrying three precious volumes of Han and Wei dynasty stele calligraphy, Zheng Yanqing left Luoyang.

Now, as a country dweller, the bustling prosperity of Luoyang no longer held his interest. Instead, the bamboo garden beneath Longmen Mountain always drew his heart unwillingly. The afternoon sun was warm, yet the late autumn breeze carried a slight chill. Riding his green donkey leisurely toward the bamboo garden, he saw the fields already showing signs of desolation.

Emperor Yang of Sui’s construction of the new Luocheng city and the excavation of the Grand Canal were indeed beneficial undertakings.

Yet, it cannot be denied that these projects greatly exhausted the people's strength. At the beginning of the Daye era, under the governance of the Henan Prefect, there were nearly two hundred thousand households, close to a million people. But within just three years, some regions already faced population shortages.

Such conditions were not evident within the prosperous city of Luoyang.

But stepping beyond Luoyang to the lands beginning to fall into neglect, one could truly feel how Emperor Yang of Sui was overdrawing the vitality of the Sui dynasty’s people.

He could not be called a bad man; rather, Yang Guang was the kind of ruler consumed by extreme idealism.

Such monarchs often transform what should be beneficial projects for the country and its people into costly burdens. The reason is simple: they are too idealistic, too arrogant. Even before his death, Emperor Yang slapped his own neck, exclaiming, “Who dares to take this glorious head?” This epitomizes his mindset.

Yanqing sighed inwardly and gently nudged the donkey’s belly with his heel; the donkey immediately quickened its pace.

When he returned to the bamboo garden, the three old men were resting in the bamboo pavilion.

Last night had been sleepless, but now things had finally settled down.

Handing the donkey over to Mao Wang, Yanqing strode toward his quarters. Before he entered the pavilion, Mao Xiaonian came out, followed by Siyang and Xiyao.

“Young master, Master Dou has been waiting upstairs for almost a whole day.”

“Oh?”

“He seems to be in a bad mood. Since he arrived, he’s been reading upstairs and didn’t come down for lunch.”

Yanqing nodded. “Alright, I understand.”

Squatting down, he saw Xiyao and Siyang happily run over and jump into his arms.

“Help prepare dinner. Grandfather and the others might wake up soon.”

Mao Xiaonian responded with a nod and hurried off.

Carrying the two young mastiffs, Yanqing ascended the pavilion to find Dou Fengjie staring blankly upstairs. Although he was holding a scroll, he didn’t realize it was upside down. He gazed absentmindedly at the bamboo outside the window, lost in thought.

Placing the mastiffs on the couch, Zheng Yanqing walked over and snatched the scroll from Dou Fengjie’s hands.

“Ah, Yanqing, you’re back!”

“What are you daydreaming about?”

Dou Fengjie blushed and quickly shook his head. “I wasn’t daydreaming.”

“The book’s upside down. And you say you weren’t distracted... Even Xiaonian noticed you have something on your mind. Tell me, what is it?”

Dou Fengjie looked conflicted, hesitating to speak.

This fellow always behaved this way—the more pressured, the less he could say.

So Yanqing didn’t push him further. He returned the scroll to the bookshelf, then retrieved a tea stove and kettle from behind the door. Placing the tea grinder in the center, he took out tea leaves and began grinding them carefully, as if Dou Fengjie weren’t even in the room.

“Fengjie, go downstairs and bring up some water and bamboo charcoal.”

“Oh!”

Like a well-behaved child, Dou Fengjie stood and walked downstairs. After a few steps, he turned back and handed a letter to Yanqing. “My great uncle asked me to give this to you.”

“Whose letter?”

“I don’t know…”

Yanqing put down the tea grinder and took the letter. His eyes quickly scanned the envelope—blank, with no markings.

Opening the envelope, he unfolded the letter inside.

At first, he thought nothing of it, but upon reading, his body trembled involuntarily.

The handwriting was unmistakably familiar—it was from Li Ji. Since Li Ji’s departure, they had lost contact. Yanqing only knew that Li Ji had gone to Xia Prefecture, though the exact location was unclear.

“Yanqing, my disciple…”

The strong and vigorous script was unmistakable. Yanqing read the letter carefully. Dou Fengjie returned carrying a bag of bamboo charcoal and a bucket of spring water from Longmen Mountain. Without a word, he silently lit the tea stove with a fire striker, then poured clear water into the kettle. He gently ground the tea leaves before Yanqing, not disturbing him as he read the letter.

After three years, the process of brewing tea was etched deeply in his mind.

Having read the letter, Zheng Yanqing exhaled deeply. The letter mainly inquired about his studies and informed him that a teacher had been chosen for him—a choice that left Yanqing astonished.

Changsun Sheng?

Li Ji had actually arranged for Changsun Sheng to be his teacher? That’s an extraordinary connection.

If Li Ji had requested any renowned scholar of the day—even someone like Ouyang Xun—it wouldn’t have surprised him so much.

But Changsun Sheng! Who was he?

Since the Kaihuang era, Changsun Sheng had been one of the Sui dynasty’s most celebrated generals. Particularly in the ongoing struggles against the Turks, nearly every campaign bore his mark. Among the great generals of the Kaihuang years were many, like the recently deceased Yang Su and the beheaded He Ruobi, all outstanding figures. Yet Changsun Sheng was no less formidable. Some even considered him more cunning and tactically adept than Yang Su or He Ruobi.

Li Ji wrote in his heart: Changsun Sheng accompanied the emperor on a tour to Yulin. Unexpectedly, after Emperor Yang greeted the Turkic Khagan, Changsun Sheng’s old illness flared up. The emperor had already decreed that upon his return to Luoyang, Changsun Sheng would assume the post of governor of Huaiyang. However, due to the relapse, the appointment was halted. Changsun Sheng would return to Luoyang to recuperate, retaining the rank of Right Cavalry General. The primary duty of the Right Cavalry was to safeguard peace in the He-Luo region, meaning Changsun Sheng would remain stationed in Luoyang.

As for how Li Ji persuaded Changsun Sheng, no details were given.

Zheng Yanqing was utterly stunned, holding the letter in silence. His teacher’s influence was truly immense.

He held a favorable impression of Changsun Sheng—not merely because the Right Cavalry General was low-key or had notable achievements against the Turks.

His esteem stemmed from a mention of Changsun Sheng’s name by Ning Changzhen during the massacre of the Yan family village.

What did Yanqing lack now?

Not fame, but a powerful background.

The Zheng family was in decline; the Anyuantang faction had taken the wrong side. Zheng Dashi was bedridden, and Zheng Renji’s future uncertain.

Though the Dou family was strong, none had an official standing to support him properly.

Compared to that, Changsun Sheng seemed especially suitable. First, he was highly trusted by Emperor Yang, entrusted with the entire He-Luo region—an honor few enjoyed; second, though Changsun Sheng’s lineage was not as prestigious as the Dou family’s, that very fact meant he would attract less attention.

For instance, if the Dou family openly took Yanqing as a disciple, it would spark speculation in the emperor’s eyes and among the great clans that the Dou and Zheng families were allying.

Such an alliance was intolerable to the noble houses and even the emperor, for the resurgence of a powerful clan threatened to reclaim interests once divided among others.

The ramifications would be huge, pulling Yanqing into a whirlpool from which not even a bone would remain.

Thus, after much thought, only Changsun Sheng was truly fitting.

His teacher was clearly a master of intricate schemes, aiming to secure Yanqing a brilliant future while ensuring his safety.

Yanqing put away the letter, sitting quietly for a moment to steady his mind.

“Yanqing, I’m leaving!” Dou Fengjie suddenly spoke softly.

Startled, Yanqing turned to look at him. Dou Fengjie had brewed tea and offered him a cup.

“Alright, I’ll visit you another day.”

“No, I mean I’m leaving Luoyang.”

“Leaving Luoyang? Where to?”

“My father asked me at noon if I wanted to go with him to Ziyang.”

Yanqing understood immediately: Dou Gui had made up his mind to take Dou Fengjie along. This was good news! It seemed his words last night were not in vain. Dou Gui was beginning to pay attention to his son. Perhaps father and son together would help Dou Fengjie shed his former timidity. And wasn’t that exactly what Yanqing hoped for?

“Fengjie, you should be happy. Didn’t you tell me yesterday you wanted to be with your father?”

Dou Fengjie nodded. “At first, I was happy, but then…”

“What happened?”

“If I go to Ziyang, I won’t be able to play with you anymore!”

Looking up at Yanqing, his eyes reddened as he whispered, “I want to be with my father, but I don’t want to be apart from you. You’re my only friend. If I go to Ziyang, I won’t know anyone and I’ll miss you.”

That boy…

Zheng Yanqing felt a mix of helplessness and tenderness.

He stood, sat beside Dou Fengjie again, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and whispered, “A bosom friend afar brings distant lands near... Fengjie, don’t be like this. Think of your father—working hard alone in Bashan and Shu waters. Doesn’t he want you by his side? He finally agreed to take you; you should be glad.

“Take good care of your father in Ziyang. Maybe in a few years, you’ll both come back.

“Why cry so? A real man aims far and wide. Staying in one corner won’t achieve greatness.”

“But I’ll miss you!”

“Ha ha, silly boy. It’s not a final farewell. Our parting today is for our reunion in the future. When we’ve grown, we’ll meet again, drink together, and share the joy of reunion. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Really?”

Dou Fengjie couldn’t help but ask, “Will we still be good friends then, like now?”

“Of course. Remember in the dormitory, we promised to be lifelong friends!”

Dou Fengjie’s eyes widened as he looked at Yanqing and nodded vigorously.

Yanqing hugged him briefly, then sat at his desk. After a moment’s thought, he took up his brush and wrote:

“Guarding the city gates of the three Qin, watching smoke and mist over the five ferries. Parting with you is like a fellow traveler on an official’s journey. A bosom friend afar brings distant lands near. Don’t be lost at the crossroads, where boys and girls share tears.”

This was Wang Wei’s “Farewell to Du Prefect on His Appointment to Shu Prefecture,” one of the Four Eminent Poets of the Early Tang.

Though the line “Parting with you is like a fellow traveler on an official’s journey” seemed ill-fitting to Yanqing and Dou Fengjie.

Still, both were far from home.

Dou Fengjie was distant from Luoyang, and for Zheng Yanqing, the meaning of “far travel” was even deeper.

After finishing, he wrote the title “Farewell to Dou Fengjie on His Journey to Shu Prefecture” atop.

“Keep this safe. Don’t let anyone know I wrote it. When you’re lonely, think: far away in Luoyang, you have a friend thinking of you.”

This sentence brought Dou Fengjie to tears.

He nodded emphatically, dried the ink with a breath, folded the letter carefully, and held it close.

Thanks to Yanqing’s counsel, Dou Fengjie’s mood brightened considerably. Yanqing then wrote a reply to Li Ji, detailing his life in Luoyang over the past few years.

Meanwhile, Dou Fengjie played with Xiyao and Siyang.

At dusk, the Dou family sent a carriage, and Dou Fengjie reluctantly bid farewell.

He was to leave Luoyang the day after tomorrow and had many matters to attend to, likely no longer able to visit the bamboo garden.

Yanqing escorted him to the carriage, watching it disappear into the bamboo forest under the setting sun’s glow, feeling an inexplicable emptiness.

When Dou Fengjie had visited daily, Yanqing had grown weary of the constant play. After all, with a soul in his thirties, playing childish games was comfortable. But as yet another friend departed, Yanqing finally understood: though he possessed mature thoughts, he had unconsciously begun to integrate into society.

From Duoduo at first, then Du Ruhui, and now Dou Fengjie…

He had left his mark on this era.

That mark perhaps began the day he stood up for Dou Fengjie, determined to become part of this world.

Joy and sorrow, partings and reunions, sunshine and moonlight—the cycles of life transcend age; they are the path of growth.

Yanqing had thought he could face these with ease, but when the moment came, he realized he could not.

“Yanqing, dinner’s ready!”

At that moment, Zheng Shian’s voice reached Yanqing’s ears.

Suddenly alert, he whirled around with a trace of shock.

He hurried to the bamboo pavilion in three strides. “Grandfather, say that again?”

Zheng Shian, just waking, looked at Yanqing groggily. “Say what again? What are you talking about?”

“No, no!” Yanqing shook his head. “Grandfather, say what you just said, exactly in that tone!”

Zheng Shian was puzzled, not understanding what trick Yanqing was playing.

He thought for a moment. “I just said, ‘Yanqing, dinner’s ready!’”

That was the voice! That very tone!

Yanqing finally realized the mystery of the husky dog he had seen at Luopu Library earlier.

The voice...

When the husky tried to stop Yanqing from fighting Pei Xingyan, its tone was sharp and shrill, like a strangled yell.

Normally, no one could produce such a voice except a certain group—those who had lost reproductive function, like Zheng Shian, or more specifically, eunuchs. When they spoke loudly, their voices became high-pitched and piercing.

Could it be that the husky was a eunuch?

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On its first day online, two extra chapters were added.

More will come this noon and evening... Your support with monthly votes is sincerely appreciated!

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