Chapter 15: Skills mature in the depths of spring, and the heart is at peace
In late spring in the south of the Yangtze River, the rain always comes with a lingering gust of wind. The banana leaves in the west wing of the Fang Mansion were wet with rain, turning them glistening green. Water droplets rolled down the tips of the leaves, splashing tiny drops of water on the bluestone slabs, creating ripples.
Little Swallow, wearing a smoky-colored soft satin jacket with a lotus embroidered around the collar, sat at the window-side zither table. Her fingertips gently plucked the strings, and the melody of "High Mountains and Flowing Water" began to flow, sometimes like a clear spring washing over rocks, sometimes like the sound of pine waves. The ending notes were so steady that even the sound of rain outside the window seemed to be soothed by the music.
"You're getting better and better." Li entered, carrying a bowl of ginger soup. Water droplets from her oil-paper umbrella dripped onto the threshold, creating a small wet streak. She placed the soup on the small table beside the zither, observing her daughter's focused profile with a look of delight. "I just heard from Mr. Zhou that your copy of the 'Lanting Preface' yesterday was so elegant that even the oldest accountant in the mansion praised its exceptional clarity and elegance."
Xiaoyanzi stopped plucking the strings, and when she looked back, the lingering sound of the piano was still in her eyes. She stuck out her tongue and reached out to grab the ginger soup: "Mom, did the teacher praise me again? Actually, I still keep forgetting the strokes. Last time I wrote the character '之', the last dot fell outside the '捺', and the teacher hit the back of my hand with a ruler." As she spoke, she stretched out her left hand. There was indeed a faint red mark on the back of her fair hand, but she deliberately wrinkled her nose to pretend to be in pain.
Li was amused by her and pinched her cheek. "It's good that you know it hurts. You won't be distracted when writing from now on." Her eyes fell on the drawing paper beside the zither. It was a newly completed painting of "Spring River". The river was vast, the distant mountains were dark blue, and the white sails on the river were outlined with light ink, revealing a lightness that seemed to move with the wind. "This painting is a step further than the "Orchid Painting" from last month. Especially the water ripples, it looks like they are moving."
"That's right!" Little Swallow raised her chin proudly, picked up the drawing paper and held it up to the light. "I've been looking at the river scenery for three days. The water is green in the morning, golden at noon, and pink in the evening. My teacher said that to capture the soul of water, you must first understand its nature."
As they were talking, Xiao Jian came in. He was wearing a black shorts, his shoulders stained with raindrops, and he held a long sword in his hand. Seeing Xiao Yanzi looking at the painting, he walked over, glanced at it, and pointed his finger at the white sail in the painting: "The angle of this sail is wrong. It should be tighter against the wind. Look—" He picked up a brush, dipped it in light ink, and added a few strokes to the corner of the sail. The white sail suddenly seemed to be filled with wind, exuding a tenacity.
Little Swallow's eyes lit up. "That's right! Last time I went to the river to watch the fishing boats, they always pulled the sails tight when the wind was against them! Big brother, how come you know everything?"
Xiao Jian put down his pen and wiped the moisture off his sword with a handkerchief, a smile playing on his lips. "You only care about the sails and not the wind. The same principle applies to practicing Qinggong: use the force when the wind is with you, and accumulate strength when the wind is against you. That 'Treading on Snow Without a Trace' move you practiced in Merlin yesterday was because you didn't calculate the wind direction correctly, and that's why you scared away that nest of thrushes."
Speaking of Qinggong, Xiaoyanzi immediately perked up. She put down the drawing paper, spun on the spot, and her skirt spread out like petals. She floated to the corridor, lightly tapped the slippery railing with her toes, and flew back into the house. She landed silently, and even the candlelight on the table did not flicker.
"Look, look!" Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed from the action just now. "Didn't I scare the birds away this time? Mr. Zhou said that with my Qinggong skills, even if I went to pick apricots from Mr. Zhang's house next door at night, he wouldn't hear anything!"
"You're trying to be naughty again." Li gave her a reproachful look, but then handed her a clean handkerchief. "Wipe your sweat quickly, or you'll catch a cold. Your father just said he'd take you to Hanshan Temple outside the city this afternoon. The abbot there is an excellent chess player, and he wants you to learn a few moves from him."
"Playing chess?" Xiaoyanzi took the handkerchief and wiped her forehead, her eyes rolling. "But what about that old monk we talked about last time who could let Liuzi beat the prefect?"
"That's right." Xiao Jian said, "The abbot is not only good at chess, but also knows some Qimen Dunjia. I have learned sword techniques from him several times and benefited a lot."
Xiaoyanzi immediately became interested and tugged at Xiao Jian's sleeve, shaking it: "Big brother, can you come with me? I'm afraid I can't beat him, so you can just give me a wink from the side."
"Nonsense." Fang Zhihang walked in at some point. He was wearing a navy blue silk gown and leaning on a cane. He tapped the ground and said, "Playing chess requires sincerity. How can you cheat?" His face was stern, but there was a smile in his eyes. "But if you can beat him by half a move, Dad will give you a copy of the original Zhao Mengfu painting in the study."
"Really?" Xiaoyanzi's eyes widened, her grip on the handkerchief tightening. "Then I'll definitely win!" She suddenly remembered something and hesitated. "Hanshan Temple...will there be any pilgrims from the capital?"
Xiao Jian saw her concerns and stepped forward, saying, "Father, Hanshan Temple is famous, but it's been raining a lot lately. I'm afraid guests from the capital won't come at this time. Besides, I'm here with my sister, so nothing will happen."
Fang Zhihang nodded, his eyes falling on his daughter's tense shoulders. He sighed softly, "Ci'er, don't dwell on those troubles. Let's live a good life in Jiangnan. No one can disturb us." He raised his hand and touched the top of his daughter's head, his palm warm. "Let's go. The rain has eased. Let's go earlier and come back earlier so your mother can rest assured."
Little Swallow nodded vigorously, turned, and reached for the chess basket on the zither table. Her fingers touched the cold chess pieces, and a sudden warmth welled up in her heart. This year, her sword had cleaved willow catkins in the wind, her brush had painted the moon's shadow on the river, her zither had played the wind chimes under the eaves, and her chess pieces had trapped fallen leaves in the courtyard—but it wasn't these abilities that brought her the greatest peace of mind.
It is the ginger soup handed by my mother, it is the gentle gaze of my father, it is the sail shadows that my eldest brother added to the painting, it is the days in the rain in the south of the Yangtze River, so peaceful that you can hear the flowers blooming.
She followed her father and brother out of the courtyard, feeling the cool raindrops fall on her face. Little Swallow looked up at the blue-tiled, white-walled walls shrouded in mist and rain, and suddenly tightened her grip on the chess basket. No matter what the future held, as long as this courtyard and her family remained, she would cherish this warmth.
The wind passed through the corridor, carrying the fragrance of banana leaves and the scent of undried ink on the piano table. Mixed with the smell of rain, it became the most peaceful smell in this spring day in the south of the Yangtze River.
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