Shen Qingchen lifted the hem of her robe and knelt down, feeling some pain in her ankle from the force she had used.
But none of that matters; at this moment, her feelings are unique in this lifetime.
She was a history student, fortunate enough to have witnessed the golden age of a school of thought, learning from its successors and gaining a close understanding of its development, evolution, and transformation, its rise and fall throughout history. She could see firsthand the powerful radiance it emanated, the cleansing stream it brought to this chaotic world, her fellow students joining hands to change this turbulent era, and even herself, an insignificant one among them, contributing her meager strength. She could see how decay crumbled little by little, and how a new order was gradually established…
Such an opportunity is rare indeed.
Qingchen felt a surge of emotion within her. In fact, she had thought about this long before Song Yue proposed taking her as his disciple, but she had never had the opportunity.
The candlelight inside the room wasn't very bright, but the warm orange light enveloped the devoutly kneeling person. Her sideburns were sharply cut, and her gaze was firm and pure, casting a long, upright, and straight shadow on the ground.
Song Yue looked at his student and said softly, "This school of thought is called the School of Mind, which is opposed to the Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism you have been studying for so many years, and there are many contradictions and conflicts between them. It may confuse you and make you feel lost. Have you thought it through? Do you really want to study it?"
On a quiet autumn night, with candlelight reflecting off jade figures, teachers and students gaze at each other in silence.
Shen Qingchen bowed down and kowtowed to Song Yue, "My esteemed teacher, please accept my bow. Please, teacher, impart to me the teachings of the mind."
"Alright, get up." He said, extending his right arm to her for support. "Your foot is injured, stand up slowly."
Qingchen helped his teacher to his feet, saying, "Teacher, there's no tea at home, so I can't offer you tea..."
He shook his head slightly. "There's no need for such formalities. We are already teacher and student. Sit down, and I'll tell you about this school of thought."
Qingchen nodded and sat down beside him, looking very respectful with his back straight and his handsome face solemn.
"The core tenet of this school is 'extending innate knowledge,' which means that 'the ability to distinguish right from wrong is innate, without deliberation or learning; therefore, it is called innate knowledge.' This means that innate knowledge originates from one's own heart; it is something one is born with, not something sought or learned. The difference lies only in whether one is aware of it and awakens to it. This contradicts what Zhu Xi said. Zhu Xi said that knowledge precedes action, and that knowledge is less important than action. One should first learn from books, and then put it into practice. How one puts it into practice depends on the 'knowledge' gained from the books… Between the two, there is the difference between the unity of knowledge and action and the principle of knowledge preceding action."
These are the core tenets of this school of thought, and also the most essential aspects that need to be gradually understood during the learning process. Fearing that Qingchen might have difficulty understanding since it was her first time encountering this, Song Yue explained very seriously and patiently, and slowed down his speech so that she could think about it while listening.
His jade-like face gleamed with a faint light, giving him a slightly aloof and indifferent appearance, yet his tone was gentle. His cloud-patterned official robe shimmered with a delicate sheen, enveloping his robust physique.
"How much do you think you can understand?" he asked.
Qingchen nodded. Luckily, she was a history major, otherwise these words would have been difficult to understand.
"There's no need to rush. Just listen for now and get a general idea," Song Yue added. "All knowledge can only be truly grasped after repeated discussion, debate, and practice, and even then, you may not fully understand it. You can learn slowly in the future. I'll show you some of the insights I took when I was learning."
He continued, “There are seven schools of Neo-Confucianism: the Wang School of Zhejiang, the Wang School of Southern Zhejiang, the Southern School of Hubei, the Southern School of Fujian and Guangdong, the Wang School of Northern Zhejiang, the Taizhou School, and the Jiangxi School. You belong to the Jiangxi School. Whether within or between schools, we are all fellow students, so there is no need to distinguish between close and distant. You can discuss things with them often, and you will gain something from it. When you recover and return to the Hanlin Academy, I will give you a list of these people; just keep it safe. When you have free time, establish contact with them. If you encounter any difficulties in the future… you can contact them when I am not around. Don’t be afraid to trouble others; fellow students should help each other.”
The direct disciple's insights and the register of all the disciples... Qingchen took a soft breath, feeling that the two things her teacher had given her were too heavy. If she did not learn them well, she would be ashamed of his trust and cultivation. She lowered her head and said, "Thank you, teacher. I will definitely study hard."
Seeing her determined look, her bright eyes shining on her handsome face, he couldn't help but gently pat her head and comfort her, "There's no need to feel pressured. It's just a subject. Just like when you learn about civil engineering, arithmetic, or territorial knowledge."
Even so, Qingchen still couldn't let go of his own standards, and nodded after letting out a sigh.
“My mentor Wang Yangming taught me four sentences. Once you enter Wang’s school, these four sentences are the first things you need to know.” As Song Yue spoke, he used a paperweight to flatten the paper, and then picked up a pen to write the four sentences on the paper.
Qingchen watched as his slender fingers held the pen and slowly wrote each word on the paper, and couldn't help but get up and lean closer to take a look.
The mind in its original state is neither good nor evil; its actions are either good or evil.
Knowing good and evil is conscience; doing good and eliminating evil is the investigation of things.
Qingchen read aloud what he had written.
After Song Yue finished writing, he looked up at her and handed her the pen, saying, "You also need to write it once."
She nodded, took the brush, dipped it in ink, and then rolled up her sleeves to begin writing. Qingchen was a modern person, and although she had practiced diligently for several years after transmigrating, she wasn't particularly talented in this area, so her writing had never been very good. Now, because of an injury on her right elbow, although she tried her best to write, the first character she wrote was still unsatisfactory.
She blushed a little at writing such words in front of the teacher, which made her even more nervous, and the following words became even worse...
Song Yue raised an eyebrow slightly, looking at the second character, the third character... and finally couldn't help but say, "Qingchen, the quality of your handwriting can affect other people's first impression of you. In the future, when you have an official position, you will inevitably have to submit memorials to the Emperor."
Qingchen was already bad at writing, and his comment only made things more awkward. He paused, and a blot of ink appeared on the paper...
"Let me teach you."
Qingchen looked at the teacher beside him and nodded.
Give me the pen.
He took her pen and continued writing after what she had written, saying, "When holding the pen, the tip of your index finger should be diagonally against the outside of the pen shaft, pinching it against your thumb. Your little finger should naturally rest against your ring finger. When writing a horizontal stroke, first slightly turn the pen tip to the right, then smoothly reverse the direction to the upper left, pause briefly, and then slightly return the pen tip to the center. When finishing the stroke, be careful to lift the pen lightly, pause, and then bring it back..."
She had never learned calligraphy before, and even in the Ming Dynasty, she was just figuring it out as she went along. She hadn't expected to make mistakes from the very beginning, no wonder she could never write well. Qingchen watched intently, her hand unconsciously mimicking the strokes.
Song Yue's handsome eyes swept over her hand, and seeing her gesture, he stopped. "Hold my hand."
Qingchen looked at her teacher's hand holding the pen. It was slender and delicate, with prominent knuckles on the back, clearly showing the marks of years of desk work. His pen-holding posture was extremely graceful, far surpassing her own. Although a little embarrassed, she gently placed her hand on his, her body leaning slightly forward as well.
Then I heard the teacher whisper in my ear, "Press it a little tighter so you can feel the power of the pen strokes."
At such close range, hearing that clear, melodious voice—from the Grand Secretary of the Ming Dynasty, a successor of the School of Mind, her teacher… Qingchen felt her heart race slightly, and she tightened her grip on his hand. Beneath her palm, his knuckles were clearly visible, his skin soft and smooth, slightly cool…
While she was still savoring the sensation, Song Yue had already begun guiding her hand to write. The added weight on her hand didn't affect his brushstrokes at all; the characters he wrote remained neat and elegant. His clear, gentle voice rang out again, "This character '善' (shàn), after the horizontal stroke comes the vertical stroke. When writing the vertical stroke, you must..."
The pale moon shone dimly outside the window, while the candlelight flickered gently inside. Their hands were clasped together, weaving a tranquil and slowly flowing moment in time.
Even after writing those four lines, Qingchen felt a little dazed, as if he could feel the twists and turns in the writing and he had also heard what his teacher had said. However, it seemed that those feelings had only passed through his heart and had not been retained.
"Can you feel it now?" Song Yue asked.
Qingchen hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
Seeing her reaction, he simply changed his posture, turned around and held her hand, "Write it again like this."
Unlike the slight coolness of the back of his hand, his palm was warm.
Song Yue noticed that his student's hands were trembling slightly, so he tightened his grip a little. "Don't be nervous, you can do it."
Every stroke of his pen was imbued with his heart. Qingchen felt a tightness in his chest, and he only relaxed after he finished writing.
After he finished writing, he let go of her hand, looked at her and said, "Just keep practicing like this, and you'll definitely improve over time."
"yes."
He glanced at the moonlight outside the window, then swept his gaze over the table where the two were dining. "Wash the dishes and chopsticks."
Qingchen was taken aback.
"Since you're not feeling well today, I'll help you with the washing."
"The student doesn't dare to trouble the teacher. The student only has a leg disability, but his/her hands are fine, so he/she can do it himself."
Song Yue seemed to have made up his mind. He rolled up his sleeves and looked at her, saying, "Who said I was going to wash for you? I'll wash what I use, and you wash what you use. Come on."
He looked like he wouldn't let her refuse, so Qingchen couldn't go back and jumped to the table to grab the bowls and plates. Song Yue couldn't stand it anymore, so he simply went up and took the bowl from her. The muscles in his arms under his official robes visibly twitched, and he walked straight to the large vat in the courtyard.
When he reached the large vat, he put down the bowl, threw the wooden bucket into the vat, and lifted up a full bucket of water.
Qingchen had never seen a teacher like this before. In her memory, he always had a noble and dignified demeanor, and a gentle and refined air. Right now, the moonlight was like water, shining brightly into her small courtyard. His figure was tall and strong, and his upper arms were taut from exertion, exuding an indescribable masculine aura that made him appear quite different from usual.
After Song Yue finished fetching the water, he turned around and waved to her, "What are you looking at? Jump over here."
Shen Qingchen snapped out of her daze and then jumped over.
The two sat down side by side to wash the dishes together. He washed the dishes while she scooped water for him with a ladle. As the water fell from the ladle, a small stream of water would run down his arm, eventually dripping onto the ground and splashing up sparkling droplets.
The wind rustled through the treetops, and the autumn water was cool, even more so than the moonlight.
Water droplets gradually landed on Qingchen's eyelashes. Just as she was about to wipe them away, Song Yue's arm was already raised in front of her, the soft, wide sleeves of his satin swaying gently. "Wipe them on here."
As she hesitated, his arm drew closer, his starry eyes looking at her with a calm yet undeniably authoritative gaze. Shen Qingchen had never seen him so domineering. She pressed her face against his, gently rubbing against him, and smelled a pleasant, refreshing fragrance—the unique scent of her teacher.
She continued to scoop water for him, the clear water gushing down and splashing countless droplets on the ground. Qingchen watched as one flower bloomed and then withered, feeling a compulsive urge to keep them flowing, so she tilted the ladle a little more, making the water flow faster.
Song Yue glanced at her, and finally grasped her wrist that was holding the ladle.
Qingchen was startled, only to see that the teacher's long, slender fingers, wet with water, were grasping him, moist and cool.
He looked at her and said, "What are you thinking about, my dear disciple? Slow down, your clothes are getting soaked."
Qingchen blushed slightly, unaware that her sleeves were wet. He responded with a soft "yes" and released her hand; Qingchen felt the lingering coolness of the water on her wrist.
After washing the dishes, he carried them back inside. When he came out, he shook his sleeves, looked at her, and said, "I'm leaving."
Shen Qingchen said as he skipped around, "The student is seeing the teacher off."
He shook his head. "No need. If you think you haven't jumped enough today, go back inside and jump. It's dark outside."
“…Then I won’t see you off any further, teacher. Take care.” She said, bowing with her hands clasped in greeting.
"Go back. Return to Hanlin Academy after your foot injury has healed." With that, he turned and strode away, his long robes flowing in the moonlight, his silhouette elegant and refined.
Shen Qingchen watched for a while until his carriage disappeared at the alley entrance. She turned and went back into the house, only to see Ming Xiang from next door lighting a lamp and coming out.
"Mingxiang?"
Mingxiang arrived at her courtyard gate with a lantern, her dark eyebrows arching in the light. "Brother Qingchen, I heard a noise coming from your side just now. I thought something had happened to the old man. Was someone coming to see you?"
"Yes. My teacher has arrived."
"Is Qingchen's teacher a high-ranking official? I saw his carriage at the alley entrance. He's so kind to you, he even washed the dishes for you before leaving." Mingxiang smiled and added, "If you ask me, it's because Qingchen is so kind that your teacher treats you so specially."
"Is it special?" Shen Qingchen gazed at the stars in the sky, his mind flashing back to Song Yue's words and actions.
"Of course." In her opinion, she would jump for joy if she could wash the dishes with Qingchen.
Fortunately, Qingchen's teacher is a man; if it were a woman, she would be very upset.
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