Chapter Twelve: Trouble Arrives (Part Two) – Revised Edition

Sun Simiao seemed as though he had something to say, yet hesitated. He glanced at Zheng Yanqing, perhaps feeling that Yanqing was still too young, and so he refrained from asking, leaving Yanqing somewhat disappointed.

“Not far from here lies the Ling Platform of the Eastern Han. Why not pay it a visit?”

Du Ruhui immediately nodded in agreement. The Ling Platform, built during the Eastern Han, was a place for observing the heavens. The renowned astronomer Zhang Heng had once served here and invented the armillary sphere. By the Western Jin, the Sima clan made use of it as well. Now, however, it had fallen into desolation, much like the Imperial Academy.

Zheng Yanqing had visited the Ling Platform ruins in his previous life and, to be honest, hadn’t found them particularly interesting. But since Sun Simiao had suggested it, and Du Ruhui also approved, he could hardly refuse. These ancients truly relished their elegant pursuits, Yanqing mused inwardly, following as Sun Simiao turned to leave.

At that moment, Du Ruhui let out a startled cry behind him. Sun Simiao abruptly released Yanqing’s hand, and before Yanqing could see clearly how he moved, Sun Simiao appeared at Du Ruhui’s side, reaching out to steady him.

“The ground is muddy, be careful,” Sun Simiao said, then returned to Yanqing’s side.

Yanqing’s eyes widened in astonishment. Could Sun Simiao also be a martial arts master? Since practicing the Dragon-Subduing Skill, Yanqing’s senses had grown keener than most, yet even he hadn’t caught how Sun Simiao had reached Du Ruhui so quickly. Was it possible that the legendary King of Medicine was also a peerless expert?

On reflection, it didn’t seem so strange. Though Sun Simiao was known in later generations for his “Prescriptions Worth a Thousand Gold,” he was also a Daoist. His purpose in compiling that tome was to seek the arts of longevity. Mastering breath control and physical cultivation, having a strong physique and some martial prowess was only to be expected.

As if sensing Yanqing’s thoughts, Sun Simiao smiled and said softly, “I am not skilled in the arts of combat. Yet since I began studying the Dao, I have practiced guiding techniques and diligently trained in the Five Animal Frolics, and have benefited somewhat. Yanqing, since you study martial arts, I could teach you these guiding methods and the Five Animal Frolics. While they cannot grant immortality, they are marvelous for strengthening the body and increasing vitality.”

Hearing this, Zheng Yanqing was overjoyed. Since Duoduo had left, there had been no one to guide his training. Though Sun Simiao was not adept in combat, learning his guiding techniques would surely be worthwhile.

By now, Du Ruhui had found his footing, muttering, “I think something tripped me just now.” He looked down and saw, amid broken bricks and shattered tiles, a corner of a stone stele protruding from the earth. Could it have been this stele that tripped him? Zheng Yanqing paid it little heed, but Du Ruhui grew excited.

“Master Sun, do you think this is a stele?”

Sun Simiao, taking Yanqing by the hand, walked over for a look. “It does look like it… Ruhui, are you perhaps thinking…”

“Perhaps, perhaps!” Du Ruhui’s eyes were ablaze with fervor.

At first, Yanqing didn’t understand the meaning behind the exchange, but seeing Du Ruhui’s current state, it dawned on him.

This fellow was a lover of inscriptions and must believe this dark, stele-like object was a relic from the Han or Wei dynasties. But how could he extract the stele barehanded? If it truly was from those times, it had likely been buried for three or four centuries—hardly easy to unearth.

“What a pity! If Big-Bearded Zhang were here, it would save us a lot of trouble,” Du Ruhui muttered as he circled the stele three times. “That fellow is strong enough to dig it out for sure.”

Zheng Yanqing couldn’t help but laugh, and Sun Simiao shook his head repeatedly. Did the third son of the wealthiest man in Yangzhou really have the fate of a laborer?

“It’s not so difficult to get it out, but if the stele is too large, how will you transport it?” Sun Simiao interjected. “Let me be clear: I won’t be your laborer, and neither will this young man. If you carry it yourself, I’ll help unearth it.”

Du Ruhui’s eyes lit up. “No problem!”

“Then start by clearing away the rubble,” Sun Simiao said, pulling Yanqing aside. Du Ruhui immediately discarded his bamboo umbrella, squatted down, and began clearing away the stones. His dark blue robe was soon spattered with mud, making him look thoroughly bedraggled.

“This fellow is really something…”

“Master Sun, are you very close with Brother Du?” Yanqing asked.

Sun Simiao shook his head. “We met on Mount Heng. He was circling the Gou Lou Stele—if it hadn’t been so large and heavy, I think he would have tried to carry it down the mountain himself. Later, we met Zhang Sanlang and continued on together. By rights, we shouldn’t have missed our lodging last night, but this fellow dawdled along the way, which is why you and I met.”

Yanqing said, “Brother Du must truly love steles and inscriptions.”

“Love? He’s obsessed—more so than Ouyang Xun or Zhiyong. But at his age, such obsession borders on folly.”

Yanqing understood Sun Simiao’s implication, but refrained from comment. At that moment, Du Ruhui called out that he’d finished clearing the stones. Sun Simiao handed his umbrella to Yanqing, stepped forward, lifted his robe, grasped a corner of the stele with one hand, and, planting his feet, exerted a sudden force. Mud and earth flew, and he pried the stele out of the ground.

Zheng Yanqing barely glanced at the stele, his attention riveted on Sun Simiao. The legendary King of Medicine looked thin and frail, yet possessed such extraordinary strength? Remarkable.

Du Ruhui, meanwhile, was beside himself with joy, rushing forward to gently brush mud from the stele’s surface, oblivious to the rain. He squinted, scrutinizing the inscription. Suddenly, he exclaimed, flailing his arms in excitement.

“The Triple Audience Stele of Biyong! It’s the Triple Audience Stele!”

The stele was massive, over three meters long and more than a meter wide. Yanqing estimated its weight at no less than a thousand catties. He looked at Sun Simiao in shock, marveling inwardly. Was this what a true master was like? Such strength was rare indeed.

Sun Simiao himself was also surprised. Could this fellow’s luck truly be so remarkable? A mere stumble, and he had unearthed the Triple Audience Stele of Biyong?

The stele’s full name was “The Stele Commemorating the Three Imperial Audiences at Biyong by the Emperor of Great Jin, with the Crown Prince Attending, in the Auspicious Reign of Longxi.” It was entirely inscribed in clerical script, erected in the fourth year of Weining (278) of the Western Jin, on the twentieth day of the tenth month. The front bore thirty lines, each with fifty-five characters; the reverse, forty-four lines, recounting the deeds of Emperor Wu of Jin, Sima Yan, and Emperor Hui, Sima Zhong, in meeting three times with the Imperial Academy’s scholars and students—a total of more than fifteen hundred characters.

Zheng Yanqing had some recollection of this stele, as it had been unearthed in 1930 in Jincun Town, Luoyang, and later housed in the Luoyang Museum. In his previous life, during an exchange between two cities, he had seen it with his own eyes.

He never imagined that, on a casual spring outing, he would see the Triple Audience Stele a full fourteen centuries before its rediscovery.

“Is it truly the Triple Audience Stele?”

“No mistake! I’ve seen its rubbings—there’s no doubt.”

Though most of the stele was still caked in mud, the exposed characters were clear and legible.

Sun Simiao chuckled ruefully. “Ruhui, you aren’t actually thinking of taking it with you, are you?”

Du Ruhui sprawled across the stele, wide-eyed. “Why not? I found it, so it’s mine!”

“But this thing weighs at least a ton or two—how will you move it?”

“Oh, that’s simple…” Du Ruhui’s eyes darted about before he said, “Easy—Big-Bearded Zhang has plenty of men. I’ll have him help me transport it.”

Sun Simiao shook his head. “Zhang Sanlang may not agree.”

“I don’t care, I don’t care!” Du Ruhui was as petulant as a child. “I’m taking it home. Besides, now that it’s been unearthed, if we don’t look after it, it might be damaged. If I keep it properly at home, isn’t that the best outcome? Let’s go find Big-Bearded Zhang and discuss it.”

“You’ve really gone mad!” Sun Simiao said helplessly, turning to Zheng Yanqing. “Yanqing, let’s go find someone while this lunatic stands guard here.”

Yanqing didn’t mind, and nodded in agreement.

Perhaps he had been mistaken? The Du Ruhui before him bore none of the dignity he’d imagined in a renowned minister, but seemed, instead, a real handful…