Chapter 102 How could Li Taibai possibly bring this up?
It was already dark.
Zongwu, wrapped in a patched quilt, tossed and turned, refusing to sleep. His bright black eyes were fixed on the stove, as if the aroma of the bowl of noodles from earlier still lingered there.
"Dad, will we be able to have this noodle dish again tomorrow?" he asked softly, his voice filled with the hope unique to a child.
Du Fu sat on the edge of the bed, his rough hands gently stroking his son's forehead, his fingertips touching a few strands of hair stuck together by sweat. He gazed at the dark night outside the window, remained silent for a while, and then slowly shook his head: "Who can say for sure what will happen tomorrow?"
Without expectations, there will be no disappointment.
However, he's already working, and not only does he get paid, but he can also save on lunch every day. In any case, it's much better than before.
Yang sat to one side, mending an old garment. The needle and thread moved through the fabric, making a soft rustling sound. She glanced up at her husband, then lowered her head to continue her work, saying softly, "Go to sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow."
Zongwu pouted, clearly not satisfied with the answer, but ultimately succumbed to sleepiness, his eyelids gradually drooping. His little hands still clutched the corner of the blanket, and he mumbled incoherently, "If only I could eat this noodle soup every day..."
Upon hearing this, Madam Yang paused slightly, a bitter smile appearing on her lips. How she longed to ensure her children had enough to eat every day! But in this world, simply surviving was a blessing.
Du Fu gazed at his sleeping son with a deep look in his eyes.
He recalled Chang'an during the Tianbao era, when he was young and full of vigor, believing that with his passion and extensive knowledge, he could surely obtain an official position and provide a good life for his wife and children. But now, after a lifetime of wandering, he had ended up "hungering on desolate mountain roads," relying on others for even a full meal.
"If it were a peaceful and prosperous era..." he murmured, but then stopped speaking.
In this world, what is there to "what if"?
Outside the window, a night breeze swept by, rustling the old locust tree in the courtyard. A few withered leaves were swept up and gently tapped against the window frame, like some kind of silent sigh.
Yang put down her needlework and said softly, "You should rest early too."
Du Fu nodded, but did not move. His gaze remained on the children's faces—Zongwen was fast asleep, breathing evenly, while Zongwu still had a satisfied smile on his lips, as if he was still savoring the taste of that bowl of noodles in his dream.
After a long silence, he said in a low voice, "How wonderful it would be if all the people in the world could have a bowl of hot noodles."
Yang did not evade him, but gently held his hand and said, "If the immortals you speak of are real, then the people of the world will certainly no longer suffer from hunger and cold."
Yang's words were like a spark that suddenly illuminated Du Fu's cloudy eyes.
As the night breeze swept past the windowpane, Du Fu's thoughts suddenly drifted back to the third year of the Tianbao era.
It was late autumn, and the dew was heavy. He, Li Bai, and Gao Shi lay drunk on the stone steps, gazing at the Milky Way, and together they sought immortals.
Li Bai untied the wine from his waist and drank wildly, Gao Shi sang while swordsmanship, and he—still a carefree young man in fine clothes and riding a horse—hid his new work "Looking at Mount Tai" in his sleeve, believing that his pen could support the heavens and the earth.
"Let's go seek immortality!" Li Bai suddenly sat up, his jade crown drooping askew, his eyes reflecting the moonlight, sharp as swords. "To visit the Dao on Mount Song, to ride a phoenix and a crane, how delightful!"
Gao Shi laughed loudly, the sword tassel fluttering in the night wind: "Li Twelve has gone mad again!"
Having said that, he followed in Li Bai's footsteps and strode away.
Du Fu watched this scene from behind, smiled slightly, and followed.
As the three rode their horses up Mount Song, the sea of clouds surged. Li Bai, dressed in white, led the way, his sleeves billowing in the mountain wind, as if he were truly about to ascend to immortality.
"Du Er!" He turned around in the mist, his laughter clear and melodious. "If you encounter a true immortal, I will get you a golden pill to cure your brow!"
Young Du Fu had thick, dark eyebrows, giving him a naturally melancholic appearance. From a young age, he was "averse to evil and possessed a strong will," unable to bear the injustices of the world, hence the constant somber look between his brows. Yet, at this time, he had not yet experienced the chaos of the world; he was still that carefree young man, his spirit undiminished.
He spurred his horse on and responded loudly:
"If I were to encounter a true immortal, I would ask for tens of millions of golden pills!"
"One will be used to punish corrupt officials, one to relieve the hunger and cold of the common people, one to quell the war on the border, and the rest will be used to restore peace to the world!"
His voice echoed through the valley, startling several roosting birds. Li Bai laughed heartily upon hearing this, and tossed a flask of wine from his sleeve.
"What ambition! Drink this cup, and I'll definitely find you a deity today!"
Gao Shi followed behind, panting heavily. His horse was neither as swift as Li Bai's nor as agile as Du Fu's, and it struggled to carry this "old bone" (who was actually only in his thirties) uphill.
"Twelfth Brother! Du Er! Slow down!"
"father?"
Zongwu's ramblings startled Du Fu awake.
Outside the window, it was still pitch black. There was no sea of clouds over Mount Song, no Li Bai or Gao Shi, only the deep darkness of the night in the distance.
Du Fu stroked the manuscript of Li Bai's poem in his hand, and suddenly thought of it—
As they descended the mountain that day, the setting sun cast long shadows of the three of them.
Li Bai, drunk, slumped on his horse, humming a tune no one could understand. Gao Shi, his clothes stained with mud, shook his head and smiled bitterly at Du Fu; another day without finding the immortal.
Looking back now, it was a wonderful time.
Unlike today.
Li Bai became a banished immortal, yet he was trapped in the mortal world; Gao Shi was appointed general and granted a title, but ultimately could not save the chaotic world; and he himself, from a carefree youth in fine clothes and horses, had become a wild old man with "white hair that grows even shorter from scratching."
Du Fu gazed at his sleeping child and whispered, "I wonder if Li Bai has had a bowl of hot noodles to eat right now?"
Whether you think of Li Bai or not, this night will eventually pass.
The sky was just beginning to brighten, with a thin line of white appearing.
Du Fu then opened his eyes. He had just realized that there were people from later generations in Songyang County, so he could ask about Li Bai's situation.
I imagine that Brother Taibai's situation is definitely better than mine.
Du Fu straightened his clothes, feeling no envy. Even in his own circumstances, he felt no jealousy. He believed that Li Bai was the greatest talent in the world and deserved to be the one to laugh at all the heroes.
He quickly disappeared from the spot under the watchful eyes of his wife and children.
Du Fu felt a blur before his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was already standing in the office of the clerks in Songyang County. Sunlight streamed through the carved window lattices, casting dappled shadows on the floor.
"Lord Du!" Zhuge Liang greeted him with a smile, holding a feather fan. "I didn't have time for breakfast today, so I bought a few flatbreads at the street corner. How about we share them?"
Several large, golden-brown flatbreads were spread out on the table, their sesame seeds glistening in the sunlight. Yuchi Jingde had already broken off half a piece and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing with a satisfying crunch; Qin Shubao was carefully slicing the flatbread with a knife; Wei Zhongxian, not wanting to eat any, secretly tossed one to Hei Fu.
"This..." Du Fu stared blankly at the scene before him—steaming hot pancakes, renowned officials chatting and laughing, and the bustling marketplace outside the window...
—It feels like a lifetime ago.
Zhuge Liang stuffed a piece of cake into his hand: "Eat it while it's hot, it'll get hard when it cools down."
Du Fu took a small bite. The aroma of wheat mixed with the crispness of sesame seeds exploded in his mouth, and the oil seeped into his chapped lips.
"Is it good?" Yuchi Jingde asked in a deep voice, crumbs still clinging to his beard.
Du Fu's Adam's apple bobbed, and after a long pause, he finally said, "...Good."
What he really wanted to say was: Duke of E, I can smell the beef on your breath!
However, everyone was doing this for his sake, so Du Fu did not contradict Zhuge Liang's wishes and just silently swallowed the flatbread.
Before they had even finished their flatbread, Jiang Ge appeared with steamed buns. The freshly baked meat buns were steaming hot and fragrant, making everyone's mouths water.
"I just ate some flatbread." Wei Zhongxian was truly unable to eat anymore. Ever since he came to work in Songyang County, he had been eating braised pork and Shaoxing wine every day. Was this even a human life?
I'm practically turning into a pig from eating so much.
Jiang Ge's lips curled up. One glance was enough to tell that Wei Zhongxian had gained at least ten pounds. He claimed to have just eaten a flatbread, but he probably hadn't touched it at all.
This plain food was no match for him.
It's also thanks to Prime Minister Zhuge for his hard work.
“Eunuch Wei,” Jiang Ge said with a half-smile, “your complexion is getting even more rosy.”
Wei Zhongxian awkwardly rubbed his stomach, the belt under his brocade robe seeming to tighten even more. He chuckled dryly, "Thanks to Magistrate Jiang..." Before he could finish speaking, he caught a glimpse of Zhuge Liang's seemingly casual gaze, and immediately choked, shrinking back into the corner in a huff.
Django ignored him and turned to look at the remaining flatbread and steamed buns on the table.
Yuchi Jingde and Qin Qiong had already eaten and drunk their fill and were huddled together polishing their weapons; Bai Qi still stood silently in the shadows, seemingly uninterested in the food; Huo Qubing and Hei Fuwei Shun hid in a corner; Zhuge Liang, on the other hand, leisurely sipped his tea, gently waving his feather fan, appearing completely calm and composed.
These people are clearly doing this on purpose.
Jiang Ge understood immediately. What kind of person was Zhuge Liang? He had specially bought flatbread and then subtly offered up steamed buns, simply wanting Du Fu to eat more. And Yuchi Jingde and the others had tacitly left room for him to have some.
"Lord Du," Jiang Ge carefully wrapped up the remaining meat buns and two flatbreads and handed them to Du Fu, "Take these back for the children to try."
Du Fu was taken aback, his withered fingers trembling slightly: "This..."
"Take it." Jiang Ge's tone was calm, but brooked no refusal.
Du Fu's Adam's apple bobbed, but he ultimately did not refuse. He took the oil paper package and carefully tucked it into his robes.
Jiang Ge turned her face away, pretending not to have seen what was happening. She turned and walked towards the door, saying casually, "By the way, Lord Du still has a few sets of clothes to collect. These were all distributed to everyone."
Morning light streamed through the window and fell on Du Fu's hunched back. His voice was hoarse: "Thank you, Magistrate Jiang."
When it was time to start work, everyone got up and got ready to work without dawdling.
Zheng He was identified by Du Fu as soon as he appeared.
"Lord Zheng, I have a question to ask you."
Du Fu's voice was not loud, but every word was clear, which made Zheng He's heart tremble.
--broken.
Having finally recovered from his "illness," Zheng He encountered this situation. Thinking of the fate of Du Fu, which he had witnessed, Zheng He felt deeply depressed.
He forced a smile: "Lord Du, please speak freely..."
"Brother Taibai... what happened to him later?"
Du Fu's question was like a blunt knife, slowly but firmly piercing Zheng He's chest.
—Li Bai? That eccentric scholar who refused to board the emperor's boat when summoned? That banished immortal who was exiled to Yelang in his later years and died of illness in Dangtu?
Zheng He's Adam's apple bobbed, and his gaze involuntarily drifted to the side—Wei Zhongxian was crouching down, trying to slip away, but Zheng He grabbed his sleeve.
"Isn't this the Grand Tutor, the Nine Thousand Years Old?" Zheng He exclaimed. "This one is knowledgeable and experienced; perhaps..."
Wei Zhongxian's face contorted in a grimace: "I'm just a eunuch, I can't read, how would I know these things..."
Wei Zhongxian used the excuse that he was illiterate and fled quickly.
Zheng He also wanted to escape.
But Du Fu's gaze was so sincere, so sincere that there was nowhere to escape.
"And..." the poet paused, his voice even softer, "Does Lord Zheng know of Du's fate?"
The cicadas in the courtyard suddenly stopped chirping.
Zheng He recalled the historical records he had read, which stated in black and white: Du Fu died on a boat on the Xiang River, suffering from hunger and illness at the end of his life...
How could he possibly bring it up?
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Author's note: Du Fu: Brother Taibai, aren't you feeling a bit hungry? Ah, oh dear, hee hee!
Even when I eat delicious noodles, I have to think of Brother Taibai. I can't imagine what it will be like with WeChat Moments! [Glasses] I feel like my writing is getting more and more detailed, why isn't anyone praising me? [Dog head with rose in hand]
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