Lingnan Old Stories

In June, the summer heat in Chang'an intensified, and the cicadas began to sing. Madam Wen received an urgent letter from her hometown of Taiyuan, informing her that her niece's wedding date had been set and that she needed to return to help with many matters. Madam Wen decided to take Wen Jue and Wen Xiang'er back to her hometown. On the eve of her departure, she summoned Xuanji to her room.

“Youwei,” Madam Wen took her hand and placed a string of copper keys in her palm. “You will be gone for about two months. I entrust all the affairs of the manor to you.” She then specially instructed, “Youwei, your master has been working hard lately collating books and has not had a good appetite. Remember to remind him to eat on time. Also, remember to remind him to turn off the lights at the beginning of Hai hour (9-11 PM) so that he doesn’t ruin his eyes.” Her words were full of consideration.

Xuanji agreed to everything, his palms bearing slight marks from the keys, and he felt a heavy sense of responsibility.

The next morning, a carriage was ready in front of the Wen residence. Wen Xiang'er held Xuanji's hand, reluctant to part: "Sister Xuanji, I really wanted to take you to see my maternal grandfather's garden, but unfortunately you have to stay behind to manage the household. When I come back, I'll bring you the best dried apricots from Taiyuan!"

Madam Wen smiled and gently scolded her daughter for being naughty, then nodded reassuringly to Xuanji before taking her daughter into the carriage and leaving.

The carriage rumbled away and disappeared at the end of the long street. Xuanji turned around, took a deep breath, and stepped into the mansion. Granny Li and Granny Chen were already waiting by the screen wall with several steward wives and servants. They all bowed respectfully when they saw her enter.

With Wen Xiang'er gone, the house suddenly became much quieter. Besides her daily studies, Xuanji also had to manage household chores: checking accounts, instructing the kitchen, and tending the courtyard. She did everything meticulously, and although there were occasional lapses in her skills, everything was still well-organized. Her encounters with Wen Tingyun naturally increased in this daily routine.

One afternoon, Xuanji brought a bowl of freshly chilled lotus seed soup to the study. Pushing open the door, she saw Wen Tingyun not at his desk, but standing with his hands behind his back by the window, gazing at the pomegranate tree in the courtyard whose fruit was just beginning to ripen. His expression held an unusual melancholy, as if he were lost in some memory. She softly called out, "Master," and he snapped out of his reverie.

“It’s Youwei,” he turned around, his gaze sweeping over the celadon bowl in her hand. “Put it down. I have a bit of an appetite today.”

Xuanji placed the soup bowl on the bamboo mat on the table. Seeing that he looked tired, she said softly, "Sir, you have been working at the table for days. Why don't you take a short rest?"

Wen Tingyun nodded, but did not immediately take a spoonful of soup. Instead, he pointed to the pomegranates outside the window: "Seeing these large fruits reminds me of some old stories. In my early years, when I read Du Mu's 'A rider in the dust brings a smile to the imperial concubine's face,' I felt that the satire was biting, but I always wondered if the description in the poem was an exaggeration. At that time, I was not yet married and was carefree. With this youthful spirit, I made up my mind to go to Lingnan to see for myself."

Xuanji's eyes brightened slightly upon hearing this. She had never heard her master talk about his travels before, and she never imagined that her serious and composed master could have such a "willful" side. She stood quietly, not daring to interrupt.

Wen Tingyun seemed to have his interest in talking, and his tone was slow and deep as he began to recall the past: "After a long and tiring journey, the further south we went, the more different the scenery became. It wasn't until we stepped into the Lingnan region that we realized the wonder of nature. It was the season when lychees were ripe and red, covering the mountains and fields, which was incomparable to the precious but soulless tribute in the ice cellars of Chang'an."

A rare glint appeared in his eyes, as if he were seeing the scene from years ago again: "The lychee varieties were extremely diverse, not just the 'Fei Zi Xiao' variety. There was the 'Gui Wei' variety, with its large shell and thorny tips, which, once peeled, was as white as snow, with a small seed and thick flesh, offering a sweet taste with a unique cool fragrance of osmanthus; there was also a variety called 'Nuomi Ci,' with round fruit, a dark red shell, soft and mellow flesh, abundant juice, and a sweetness without any sourness..."

His description was so detailed that it seemed as if one could see the fiery red covering the mountains and fields, smell the rich aroma of the fruit, and taste the sweetness of the various lychees through his words.

“The local fruit farmers taught me,” Wen Tingyun continued, a hint of a smile in his voice, “that lychees must be picked in the early morning while still covered in dew. When you gently pinch the shell with your fingertips, if it slightly cracks open to reveal the jade-colored flesh, that is the perfect moment. At this time, when you put it between your lips and teeth, with a gentle sip, the sweet and refreshing juice bursts forth. In that instant, you can understand why the emperor was willing to travel thousands of miles, causing hardship and expense for this fruit. Its color and taste are truly the pinnacle of human perfection.”

"The journey to Lingnan is long and arduous. Did you encounter any dangers on the way, sir?" Xuanji asked unconsciously, lost in thought.

Wen Tingyun paused for a moment: "To be honest, that journey wasn't entirely smooth. I remember when we reached a section of mountain road at the border of Hunan and Hubei, the forest was dense and sparsely populated. Suddenly, we heard a whistle from the forest ahead, and four or five men wielding machetes and wooden sticks rushed out and blocked our way. The leader had a fierce face and shouted that he wanted to pay for the passage."

Xuanji held her breath as she listened, her fingertips unconsciously clenching her sleeves.

Wen Tingyun's tone remained calm, even carrying a hint of reminiscence of those days: "Back then, I was merely a frail scholar, accompanied only by an old servant. Seeing such a scene, it would be a lie to say I wasn't frightened. But I knew that in this desolate wilderness, showing weakness would only make things worse. So I composed myself, stepped forward, and without discussing money with them, simply cupped my hands and said: 'Gentlemen, I am a scholar on my way to the capital for the imperial examinations. I possess nothing of value, only a few volumes of poetry and books. If you seek wealth, I'm afraid you will be disappointed. But if you ask for a meal, the dry rations in my bag can be shared.'"

"Upon hearing this, the bandit leader was skeptical and sized me up for a long time. I simply had my old servant open the book chest, and sure enough, inside, besides books and ink, there were only some dry rations and a few taels of silver. He stared at me for a while, then suddenly spat and cursed, 'So you're just a poor penniless wretch! All my effort wasted!' But his expression softened a little. I then seized the opportunity and said, 'Judging from your demeanor, you gentlemen are not particularly wicked; you must be forced by circumstances to make a living.' Perhaps seeing my composed attitude, unlike the usual weeping and pleading of passersby, he even sighed and complained about the poor harvest and heavy taxes imposed by the government, saying that he had no choice but to resort to this tactic."

"I chatted with him for a while about the hardships of people's lives. At the end, the bandit leader waved his hand, signaling his men to make way, and said in a gruff voice: 'You seem to be a scholar, unlike those heartless rich people. Let's go! There's an inn twenty li ahead. This road is not safe, don't delay any longer.'"

Wen Tingyun shook his head slightly, a complex smile playing on his lips: "Before leaving, I left them all the loose silver. The bandit leader hesitated for a moment, but ultimately did not refuse. My old servant later complained that I had been too risky, and that if they had been greedy, they would have caused even more trouble. But when I looked at him, although there was a fierce look in his eyes, he was not entirely without conscience. In times of chaos, it is sometimes very difficult to distinguish right from wrong when trying to survive."

Xuanji listened with a mix of emotions, feeling both fear and admiration. It was as if he could see his teacher in his youth calmly dealing with danger and persuading people with reason, giving him a deeper understanding of his courage and benevolence.

He paused, his tone shifting from immersive reminiscence to a sense of desolation: "After returning from Lingnan, my spirits were still high, and I had the idea of ​​heading west beyond Yangguan Pass again." His voice lowered, "That was truly 'a lone plume of smoke rising straight from the desert, the setting sun round over the long river.' The sea of ​​sand was boundless, and it seemed that only the sound of the wind and camel bells remained between heaven and earth. When the sun set, the stones on the Gobi Desert looked like red-hot irons, and once night fell, the cold was biting, and the stars in the sky hung so low that they seemed within reach."

Xuanji's heart stirred slightly, and he asked softly, "Sir, was your poem 'Frontier Melody' written at this time?"

He paused for a moment. "Yes, right then." He nodded, his fingertips tapping unconsciously on the table, as if striking a rhythm from the distant frontier. "That night, the campfire was dying down, the wind sending sparks flying. I held onto the last bit of warmth, but what surged in my heart was not homesickness, but a kind of...extremely vast sorrow and peace."

"The vastness of heaven and earth reflects the insignificance of oneself. Yet, it is precisely within this insignificance that a sense of unbridled generosity arises."

He looked at Xuanji, who was listening intently: "You have also read thousands of books, but you know that sometimes the words in books are not even one ten-thousandth of what you have personally experienced. But now, when you look back, those hardships have become blurred, and what remains is the magnificence of the world, the diversity of human relationships, and the expanded perspective in your heart. Reading thousands of books and traveling thousands of miles are both indispensable."

His gaze fell on Xuanji, a hint of expectation in his eyes: "Youwei, your poems possess a certain spirit, but ultimately remain confined to the boudoir, the courtyard, and the world of books and ink. If you have the opportunity someday, you should venture out and see the world. Perhaps then your poetic realm will broaden considerably."

These words were like a key, gently unlocking the window in Xuanji's heart that yearned for the vast world. For the first time, she felt a subtle connection between herself and her usually dignified master, a connection that transcended the simple master-disciple relationship and was based on a shared curiosity about the world.

She saw him not only as a learned gentleman, but also as a flesh-and-blood, insightful young man who had once been so vibrant and unrestrained.

"Student...I've got it." She replied softly, her heart churning with a secret mix of admiration and longing for that free spirit.