"This is the study."
Shu Yun opened the door, revealing layers of bookshelves inside, with countless books neatly arranged on them.
The moment he pushed open the door, the boy smelled a faint, unfamiliar, and somewhat dry scent. He stared in shock at the numerous books in the study. For people like them, simply surviving in this world was the best outcome; in his eyes, books were high-end items that only wealthy merchants and government officials could afford.
Shu Yun pulled him to the table and reached out to straighten the Xuan paper on it. "What's your name?"
The boy tiptoed close to her, afraid of accidentally touching anything there. Hearing Shu Dajia's question, his pale fingers gripped the hem of his shirt tightly.
"I have no name."
Shu Yun paused in grinding her ink. "No name?"
"Nobody knows who my parents are. I started making a living in Qiliu Lane when I was very young, doing odd jobs in Huanshalou. I don't need a name."
This is a bit tricky; we can't just keep calling you "you" all the time.
"So... is there any other name for you? What do people usually call you?"
The boy lowered his head, his clear black and white eyes fixed on the table leg carved with a phoenix, and said in a soft voice, "Bastard, good-for-nothing, thief..."
With each word he uttered, his voice dropped several decibels.
A complex look appeared in Shu Yun's eyes. At such a young and innocent age, she had already endured so much.
"If you'd like, I can help you choose a name."
The boy looked up, his dark eyes staring straight at him, as bright and dazzling as obsidian soaked in mercury.
“I want,” the boy stated his idea clearly for the first time, “I want a name.”
"Let me think..."
Shu Yun looked at the neatly laid-out Xuan paper on the table and carefully conceived a name in her mind.
After a long while, she picked up a pen, dipped it in ink, and wrote two characters on the paper.
Jiang Yan.
The boy's gaze followed the tip of her pen, each stroke—horizontal, vertical, left-falling, and right-falling—as if the two characters were drawn with his piercing gaze.
"Jiang Yan." Shu Yun put down her pen.
"Jiang as in river, Yan as in words. I hope you live in this world like a mighty river, its waters rolling and flowing, no longer crushing dust and bowing down. But at the same time, I also hope you can be careful with your words and actions, knowing when to let go and when to hold back."
The boy—no, I should call him Jiang Yan now—loves the name very much and has memorized the shape of the two characters.
From now on, he is a person with a name, a surname, and a meaning.
He repeated in his mind the meaning of the name that everyone in the Shu family had given him, over and over again, word for word.
Shu Yun was admiring her calligraphy and painting at the moment. To be honest, the two characters were written with an unexpectedly more indescribable charm than usual.
She reluctantly handed the sheet of Xuan paper to Jiang Yan, saying, "Write down your name carefully."
Jiang Yan carefully took it with both hands, hesitated for a moment, and then looked up and said, "I've memorized it."
Shu Yun was taken aback. "You've already memorized how to write these two characters?"
Jiang Yan observed her expression and nodded somewhat uncertainly.
Shu Yun put the pen in his hand and laid out a piece of paper for him, saying, "Try writing this."
Jiang Yan lowered his eyes to look at the expensive Xuan paper, not daring to put pen to paper.
Shu Yun seemed to know what he was worried about, "Write whatever you want, these things were sent by the Feng family, they're not worth much."
Anyway, she doesn't have to spend any money.
It was a gift, it's not worth much.
Jiang Yan imitated the way Master Shu had just held the brush, recalling the movement of her wrist. The tip of the brush slid across the rice paper, and she quickly wrote out the two characters.
He put down his pen and stepped aside, looking nervously at Master Shu.
A hint of surprise flashed across Shu Yun's eyes. Jiang Yan not only wrote those two characters, but traces of her calligraphy could also be faintly seen in the strokes of her brush.
Take these two characters for example. If it weren't for the fact that it was the boy's first time using a pen and he lacked wrist strength, Shu Yun felt that Jiang Yan would definitely have been able to write these two characters exactly the same as her.
This learning speed even far surpassed that of Feng Ziyi, whom she had carefully taught at the time.
She turned her head and saw Jiang Yan pursing his lips, waiting nervously for her to speak.
She smiled and sincerely praised, "Well written."
The boy's beautiful black eyes filled with joy at receiving the praise.
Shu Yun picked up her pen again and wrote two more characters, which were her name. "Try writing these two characters again."
Jiang Yan looked at them curiously, "What are these two characters pronounced?"
"Shu Yun, that's my name."
Shu Dajia's name...
Upon hearing this, Jiang Yan copied the two characters, writing them smoothly and effortlessly, as if he had known how to write them by heart.
He has a photographic memory; he's a prodigy.
"Jiang Yan, do you want to be my apprentice?"
"Not a servant, nor a child I adopted out of momentary pity, but a disciple of my school, Shu Chiying."
Jiang Yan stood there, stunned, his dark eyes filled with helplessness and confusion.
"But I'm just a nameless, faceless servant..."
Shu Yun interrupted him, "Now that you have a name and have become my disciple, you no longer need to make a living by doing menial tasks. You can sit and discuss the Dao, and rise and put it into practice. You are naturally intelligent and can find a place in this chaotic world. You should not be content with mediocrity."
Jiang Yan's soft bangs fell down, partially obscuring the handsome young man's beautiful eyebrows and eyes.
He is naturally intelligent and shouldn't settle for mediocrity...
The boy, who had always lived in the shadow of chaos and struggled to survive, suddenly had an amazing light in his eyes: "I am willing, Master Shu, I want to be your disciple."
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