The Poor Youth Who Excels in Calligraphy and Eloquence

If she truly were your maid, then so be it, but didn't you pick her up from a pile of corpses? Didn't you two say you relied on each other? Even if we take a step back and say she is your maid, don't you think she's too young to bear such heavy and arduous tasks? Why does a young boy indulge in such laziness? Why can't he do things himself?

Perhaps it stirred up unpleasant childhood memories, or perhaps the beautiful romantic fantasies in her heart had been too thoroughly shattered by someone. The maid pushed open the fence and stepped in, her gaze lingering on the bamboo chair, then on the old book the youth was engrossed in. She said mockingly, "I thought you were reading some sage's masterpiece that made you forget all movement around you. Who knew it was just a copy of the Tai Shang Gan Ying Pian, available everywhere on the market? Do you, of all people, also harbor delusions of stepping onto the path of cultivation?"

Ning Que sat up, curiously glancing at the elegantly dressed young lady who seemed eternally out of place in Weicheng, then at the embarrassed captain. After a moment, he explained, "This was the only book I could buy, so I had to make do. It's just curiosity; I have no delusions."

The maid clearly didn't expect the youth to answer so naturally and casually, which left her momentarily speechless. She then immediately looked towards Sang Sang, who was dumping stove ash by the door, and said unhappily, "In our Great Tang, how can there be a man like you?"

Ning Que frowned in confusion, followed her gaze to Sang Sang, who stood blankly by the window holding a rag, and understood the sharpness of her words. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he smiled and said, "It seems you must be older than me. Otherwise... you can just consider me not a man, but a child."

The maid had probably never seen such a thick-skinned and shameless person in her life. Her hands in her sleeves slowly clenched, her face icy, about to erupt, when her gaze fell upon the puddle of mud next to the bamboo chair, and then on the characters drawn with a twig. Her thoughts stirred, and a strange glint appeared in her eyes, making her completely forget what she wanted to say.

...

...

In the best-conditioned camp in Weicheng, the old man in ragged robes was resting with his eyes closed. Border general Ma Shi Xiang was half-bowed, speaking to the noble person in the tent, his humble demeanor containing undisguised astonishment.

"Are you dissatisfied with that guide?" he asked in confusion. "Why?"

The voice of the noble person in the tent was extremely displeased, scolding, "I need a sharp and capable guide, not a lazy youth full of cultivation dreams, empty-handed and only capable of carrying roasted chickens."

Ma Shi Xiang coughed twice, then explained in a low voice, "As this humble general knows, although Ning Que is young, he has slain quite a few barbarians on the prairie these past two years. If... it's just tying a few chickens, this humble general thinks it shouldn't be a problem."

The Great Tang was founded on martial prowess, prioritizing military merit above all else. Although the person behind the tent was of extremely noble status, once it touched upon the military's most cherished honor, Ma Shi Xiang unhesitatingly chose to retort, seemingly explaining but in fact carrying a sarcastic rebuttal.

The cold voice behind the tent paused slightly, then said unhappily, "Can someone who can kill be a good guide?"

Ma Shi Xiang replied even more humbly, "Among Weicheng's three hundred subordinates, Ning Que is certainly not the one who has killed the most enemies, but this humble general dares to stake his head that no matter how brutal the battlefield, those who ultimately survive... will definitely include this youth."

Then he looked up, smiled, and said, "For his accumulated military merits, he has received a letter of recommendation from the Ministry of War. This lad is truly ambitious; he passed the preliminary examination half a year ago. This time, returning to the Capital City, he will report to the Academy."

Hearing the two words "Academy," silence fell behind the tent. The noble person no longer spoke.

After Ma Shi Xiang left, the old man in the worn robe slowly opened his eyes. A rare glint of interest appeared in his aged yet calm eyes. He looked at the tent curtain and smiled gently, saying, "In this small border town, there's actually a soldier who can pass the Academy's examination. That's truly unexpected. If that's the case, then that youth must be a man of both talent and virtue. Having him as a guide isn't bad."

"Having left the capital for less than a year, I didn't expect a sacred place like the Academy to start recruiting such low-ranking soldiers."

The tone was still cold and disdainful, but the actual attitude had changed. The noble person at least no longer opposed Ning Que serving as a guide for her entourage—just a name could make such a prominent figure change her mind. That place simply called the Academy must be extremely extraordinary.

The old man spoke of another matter, his expression somewhat puzzled: "Earlier, I saw the characters he wrote on the muddy ground. They were the third passage of the Tai Shang Gan Ying Pian. The strokes were simple yet incredibly vivid. Though he only used a twig, on the damp earth, it felt like a blade carving into clay. This soldier Ning Que's calligraphy has entered the true Dao... I truly don't know how he cultivated it, or from whom he learned."

"That soldier only has brushwork, that's all. I casually glanced at it earlier; besides the unavoidable novelty and shock, thinking about it now, it's just some strange tricks. What true Dao? In the future, he'll probably just be a calligrapher selling characters outside a perfume shop in the Capital City."

The noble person replied indifferently.

The old man shook his head and said, "The two words 'novelty' you mentioned are the key. I don't understand calligraphy, but looking at that soldier's brushstrokes, I faintly perceive the essence of metal and stone. Such bone structure in calligraphy is rare, truly somewhat resembling the techniques of the great talisman masters in the Daoist altars."

"You mean divine talismans?"

The noble person behind the tent was startled, then immediately scoffed, "There are billions of people in the world, yet there are only a dozen or so great talisman masters. Those exalted figures are either hidden in the palace or meditating in Daoist temples, cultivating assiduously their entire lives to condense the heaven and earth aura between golden and silver strokes. That youth has no aura fluctuations whatsoever; he is just an ordinary mortal. Even if he reads the Tai Shang Gan Ying Pian for another fifty years, he probably won't be able to enter the initial realm, let alone compare notes with those great masters?"

The old man smiled and said nothing more. Although he was a cultivator, and had been greatly respected by the other party on the journey, the difference in their status was too vast. The so-called respect was actually just pity for an old man who cherished talent. If that was the case, some words should not be spoken.

Of course, he did not agree with the words of the noble person behind the tent. Regarding the soldier named Ning Que, the old man had his own judgment: In the secular world, everyone is mortal. Someone who can perceive the heaven and earth aura and enter the initial realm can truly be said to be one in ten thousand. The initial hurdle of perception is the most difficult, by no means easy. However, if Ning Que can truly enter the Academy to study, and by some karmic opportunity one day ascend to the legendary Second Floor and step onto the path of cultivation, then those strange yet powerful characters will certainly be of great help to him.

Even if that fellow never achieves enlightenment, those characters alone would be enough to make the experts in the Academy and Daoist altars look at him differently. At worst, they could shock those literati and calligraphers.

...

...

Ning Que put down the book, shook his head, and walked out the door, his face still tinged with disappointment and unwillingness.

This Tai Shang Gan Ying Pian, which he had bought at the Kaiping market fair when he was young, following a supply convoy, was, as the noble lady's maid said, a common market item. He knew this very well, but he never forgot to recite and study it, as if this book was the legendary Seven Scrolls of Heavenly Books revered in the unknowable place of Haotian Dao.

The book had been turned so much that its page corners were curled, looking extremely dilapidated. If not for Sang Sang tightly sewing its spine with cotton thread, it would probably turn into a handful of paper money flying in the wind to honor poor ancient sages with just a light flip. It was a pity that after so many years, the pages were tattered, and the words on them were deeply etched into his mind to the point of memorization, yet he still couldn't find the entrance. Forget about the initial realm of cultivation; he couldn't even achieve the simplest perception mentioned in the book.

He had been disappointed, even despairing, but later, knowing that the vast majority of ordinary people in this world could not perceive the heaven and earth aura, his mood became much calmer—yes, those legendary reclusive experts were not ordinary people; they were all freaks, because only extremely rare freaks could perceive the heaven and earth aura. Otherwise, with so many copies of the Tai Shang Gan Ying Pian circulating in the world, why had no one ever heard of glittering flying swords and soaring experts everywhere in the Chang'an night sky?

And he, Ning Que, was very ordinary, or rather, very common. It's just that, suddenly discovering a wondrous treasure mountain before your eyes, yet you can only return empty-handed; suddenly discovering that the heaven and earth are filled with a miraculous thing called Yuan Qi, like invisible white clouds, yet you cannot grasp a single wisp of cloud. In the end, there will still be a bit of unwillingness, won't there?

...

...

"Weicheng is so poor, and the barbarians on the prairie have been so terrified by His Majesty the Emperor that they haven't dared to come for years, so military merits can't accumulate too quickly. Being able to return to the Capital City is naturally good; I have no unwillingness."

In the dimly lit camp, Ning Que respectfully bowed to the general before him, earnestly explaining, "It's just that there's still some time until the Academy's registration day. I don't think I need to leave so early. These past years under the general's command, though I haven't made extraordinary progress, I have at least been taught to be a man. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been so lucky to pass the Academy's examination. I truly want to stay in Weicheng, by your side for a few more days, to hear more of your teachings... even if it's just doing a little more work, or chatting a bit more, it would be good."

Ma Shi Xiang looked at the youth before him, his beard under his chin fluttering slightly, not knowing if it was due to the night wind or the result of extreme anger. He said unhappily, "Ning Que, Ning Que, since when did you become so thick-skinned?"

Ning Que seriously replied, "As long as General, you need me to, I can discard this face at any time."

"Tell me the truth." Ma Shi Xiang's face was indifferent as he seriously asked, "Why don't you want to be this guide?"

Ning Que was silent for a long time, then whispered, "General, that noble lady probably dislikes me very much."

"The noble lady dislikes you?" Ma Shi Xiang roared, "You seem to have forgotten your identity! You must know that you are not yet an Academy student. As an Imperial soldier, you must obey the orders of your superiors, obey my orders! Whether the noble lady likes you or not is not your concern! And whether you like that noble lady or not is something no one cares about! You just need to accept the order and complete it!"

Ning Que did not reply, lowering his head to look at a stubborn green blade of grass growing between his military boots, silently expressing his protest.

Ma Shi Xiang gave up on this youth, sighing, "What exactly do you want to do? Why don't you want to go to the Capital City with them?"

Ning Que looked up, his expression extremely serious, and said, "I've seen their carriages outside. They were attacked on the prairie. Recently, there's been a spring drought there, and last year the Zuo Jinzhang Chanyu died. That noble lady's maid has slightly dark skin, so... I dare not go with them."

The carriages were attacked, the prairie had a spring drought, the Chanyu was dead, the maid had dark skin—these seemingly unrelated terms, pieced together by him, became the reason for his stubborn silent protest against leaving Weicheng.

Ma Shi Xiang looked at him and sighed, "You already guessed it?"

"Who in Weicheng hasn't guessed who they are by now?"

Ning Que helplessly spread his hands, looking towards the other side of the camp under the night sky, and said, "Only that foolish Princess, who grew up in the Chang'an Imperial Palace, married to the prairie and caused such a stir that her husband died without her realizing it, is stupid enough to think this is still a top-secret."