Scenery
The heavy, black lacquered gate of Qinglu Academy seemed to be plunged into a deep pool with pebbles the moment Shen Yan stepped through.
What spread was not ripples, but deathly silence.
The once bustling and lively elementary school, like a beehive in spring, suddenly had its voice choked by an invisible hand.
Dozens of gazes, filled with astonishment, inquiry, and undisguised amazement, flocked to him from all directions.
Today, Shen Yan wore a light blue cotton robe made of fine cotton fabric, which was worn during the war.
Although the material was not fine silk or satin, its clean and refreshing color made his already flawless face appear even more radiant and beautiful.
He slightly raised his chin, exuding a deliberately cultivated "air" that he had developed while hanging out in town.
He lifted his eyelids slightly with a hint of impatience, his gaze sweeping over the blank little faces—
Most of them were children aged seven or eight to twelve or thirteen.
Fortunately, most of the people in the law class today were adults.
He was no stranger to being watched by others.
He habitually furrows his brow, revealing a certain aloofness that says "don't approach strangers."
"Ahem!" A deliberate clearing of the throat broke the silence.
On the podium, the stern-faced Master Meng, who was said to be known for his "iron-faced and rigid" demeanor, twitched his white beard. When his gaze fell on Shen Yan, it softened strangely, and even the usually taut lines of his mouth relaxed.
"This... must be the new student, Shen Yan, fellow student Shen?" Master Meng's voice had lost its usual metallic quality, and instead had a gentle hoarseness. "Hmm... handsome and upright, a good prospect. As for the position... look, the desk by the window is still empty, the light is just right, it's very pleasing to the eye."
With a soft "whoosh".
Beside the previously empty desk by the window, a chubby boy with a round face, dressed in a royal blue brocade robe and clearly from a wealthy family, suddenly stood up, his movement so quick that he knocked over the small stool behind him. He plastered a very warm smile on his face, even with a hint of ingratiation, and waved repeatedly at Shen Yan.
"Brother Shen! This way please! This spot is by the window and well-ventilated, and it's quieter away from the teacher, making it perfect for someone like you!"
As he spoke, he stood on tiptoe and tried to wipe the empty chair, which was a bit too high for him, with his sleeve.
The little boy's chubby face turned bright red, as if it were covered with some invisible dust.
Shen Yan paused, the slight displeasure of being watched instantly replaced by a familiar sense of pride in being fawned over.
He gave a barely perceptible smile, which could be considered a response.
He walked straight to the "throne" that had been given up by the crowd, his posture perfectly poised.
As soon as he sat down, Wang Fu, a boy a few years younger than him with a round face and slightly chubby, couldn't wait to turn around, his eyes shining brightly.
His voice was full of eagerness: "Brother Shen! My name is Wang Fu! Yesterday, when the teacher was teaching the 'Heaven and Earth are dark and yellow' section of the Thousand Character Classic, I kept writing the character 'dark' crookedly. The teacher said my pen looked like a broom! Brother Shen, your handwriting must be very beautiful, right?"
He asked the question, but his eyes were glued to Shen Yan's face, not blinking.
Shen Yan felt comfortable under his gaze, but only uttered two words: "Practice calligraphy."
He hasn't even written a few pages of the Thousand Character Classic properly, so how could he teach others?
Wang Fu, however, seemed to have received some kind of reward, and his smile widened even further.
He nodded repeatedly: "Brother Shen is right! I'll practice calligraphy! I'll go back and practice right away! I'll definitely practice until it's as beautiful as Brother Shen's!"
As he spoke, he secretly crumpled up the character "玄" (xuan) on the table, which was covered in ink smears, and stuffed it into his sleeve.
"Pfft..."
A few suppressed laughs came from the side, and more eyes turned to them, filled with curiosity and admiration.
Shen Yan felt that the air in the elementary school had become sweet, making him feel completely comfortable.
Finally, the bell rang for the break between classes, and Chen Yan stood up, wanting to go out and show off.
As soon as he stepped onto the corridor, a tall, thin classmate dressed in a worn-out cloth shirt approached him, holding a worn-out pen with a cracked handle and forked tip. His face showed obvious distress: "Alas, this pen is really useless. The characters it writes are all messed up, which earned me a good scolding from the teacher yesterday."
The boy looked to be about fourteen or fifteen years old.
He kept complaining, but his eyes kept glancing at the fine mixed-hair brush on Chen Yan's desk, its handle smooth and its bristles clustered like bamboo shoots.
Shen Yan felt secretly pleased by his envious gaze. Remembering Ling Zhan's words, "Don't show weakness," when he stuffed the money bag into her hand, she simply reached out and picked up the pen that Ling Zhan had prepared from her desk, casually stuffing it into the tall, thin man's arms with a tone of nonchalant charity.
"Enough with the nonsense. Here, take it."
The tall, thin man was taken aback at first, but when he saw what was in his hand, his eyes widened and his mouth opened wide enough to fit an egg.
"This...this...Brother Shen! This...this is so kind of you!" His voice trembled with excitement.
A good mixed-hair brush is already a rare find for the average student.
"Take it."
Shen Yan uttered only two words before walking straight through the crowd towards the academy's exit, leaving behind the sudden burst of envious and amazed chatter. His steps carried a lighthearted air of "I'm just that extravagant."
Exiting the side gate of Qinglu Academy and turning into a narrow alley, you'll find yourself in the bustling South Market, the most vibrant corner of the small town.
The hustle and bustle of the city, mixed with the aroma of various foods, wafted towards us.
Chen Yan wandered aimlessly, enjoying the familiar or curious greetings from the vendors.
Suddenly, a rich and fragrant aroma forcefully entered my nasal cavity.
He followed the aroma and saw a simple wonton stall set up in a sheltered spot at the alley entrance.
A large iron pot sits on a clay stove, boiling water bubbling and steaming.
An elderly man with gray hair and a slightly hunched back was deftly tossing handfuls of small, delicate wontons into the pot.
Two low tables and a few benches nearby were already occupied by several porters dressed in short clothes and women carrying vegetable baskets, who were engrossed in slurping wontons from their bowls, sweating profusely as they ate.
The aroma was absolutely irresistible!
Shen Yan walked over and sat down on the only empty bench.
The stool was greasy, and he frowned almost imperceptibly.
"Hey bro, a bowl of wontons, please?"
The old man looked up, his face deeply lined with wrinkles, a forced smile plastered on his face as he made a living, and his voice booming.
"Um."
Shen Yan responded with a hint of unconscious reserve, "I want the best."
"Alright! Fresh pork wontons! I guarantee you'll be satisfied!"
The old man deftly scooped up a large spoonful of translucent, thin-skinned, and generously filled wontons, poured them into a large, rough porcelain bowl, poured boiling hot bone broth over them, sprinkled on a pinch of bright green scallions, and finally drizzled a few drops of flavorful sesame oil before serving it steaming hot to Chen Yan.
"Watch out, it's hot! Ten coins!"
Chen Yan picked up the bamboo chopsticks.
Sunlight filtered through the sparse sycamore leaves at the alley entrance, casting dappled patterns of light that bathed Shen Yan directly. His sky-blue robes seemed to be edged with flowing gold, and even the few stray strands of hair falling across his forehead shimmered with a soft glow—he was truly handsome!
He lowered his head slightly, blowing on the steam rising from the bowl. His long eyelashes cast soft shadows beneath his eyelids, his nose was straight, and his lips were a naturally healthy rosy color. The surrounding noise seemed to be shut out by an invisible barrier at that moment.
Only this quiet boy eating wontons remained, so beautiful he seemed otherworldly.
The two porters at the same table forgot to chew, holding their bowls with their eyes glazed over.
The woman selling vegetables next to me, carrying half a basket of vegetables, stood still, oblivious to the two vegetable leaves that had fallen off.
Even the idle men at the tea stall across the street, who were spouting lewd jokes, stopped talking abruptly and turned their attention to the tea stall.
Shen Yan was completely unaware that he had become the center of attention, or rather, he was used to this kind of attention.
He was focused on the food in his bowl, yet his movements carried a deliberate elegance.
It's as if he's announcing to everyone: Look, even eating wontons, I'm so stylish!
After finishing a bowl, I felt warm and cozy.
Shen Yan put down his chopsticks and let out a satisfied sigh.
He reached into his robes and into the heavy, coarse cloth money pouch that Ling Zhan had given him—
Inside was his allowance for the month. His wife managed the thriving "Kaoshan Xueyun Cotton Workshop" and the lucrative clothing shop "Yunshangji" in town. This amount of copper coins was nothing to her, but for Shen Yan now, it was the source of his confidence as he "walked" outside.
He pulled out a handful of copper coins, didn't count them carefully, and just grabbed a handful and put them on the greasy little wooden table.
It made a crisp "whoosh" sound.
Under the sunlight, the bright yellow copper coins were particularly eye-catching, amounting to at least twenty or thirty coins.
"Old man, the wontons are excellent. Keep the change."
Chen Yan's voice was clear and melodious, not loud, but it clearly drowned out the surrounding city noise, carrying a kind of unrestrained and bold spirit.
The old man was wiping the edge of the pot when he heard this. He glanced casually at the table, and when he saw the pile of copper coins, the rag fell into the pot with a "plop." He suddenly raised his head, his cloudy eyes wide open, staring intently at the pile of coins. His mouth trembled, and the wrinkles on his face smoothed out in extreme surprise.
He glanced at the money, then at Chen Yan's calm yet slightly smug face, then back at the money, repeating this several times—
It was as if they couldn't comprehend what was happening before their eyes.
A bowl of wontons costing ten coins was given as a tip of almost three times that amount! That's incredibly generous!
"You are a very important person! You have rewarded me so generously!"
A loud, joyful roar suddenly burst from the old man's throat, silencing the entire alley for a moment.
He bowed deeply in the direction of Chen Yan, his face beaming with joy.
"Thank you, Your Excellency! Thank you for your generous gift! This old man...this old man..."
He was so excited that he couldn't speak coherently, only able to keep thanking them.
This shout completely drew everyone's attention to this corner of Nanshi.
Everyone saw it clearly: on that greasy wooden table, there was a small pile of gleaming yellow copper coins! And the one who gave the tip was none other than that handsome young man who had been quietly eating wontons and was so generous with his money!
"Wow! How generous! So much for a bowl of wontons? Is this the head of 'Yunshangji'?"
"Good heavens! The owner of Kaoshan Xueyun Cotton Workshop! No wonder! He's so generous!"
"Such a handsome appearance and such a kind heart! Manager Ling is truly blessed!"
"Look, look! It's him! I saw him at the academy gate just now, he looks like a god! The clothes from 'Yunshangji' are so popular!"
The discussion and exclamations instantly erupted.
His gaze, like a tangible searchlight, firmly locked Shen Yan in his center.
Surprise, envy, curiosity... a mix of emotions.
The fact that Shen Yan's name was closely linked to "Kaoshan Xueyun Cotton Workshop" and "Yunshang Ji" instantly swelled the sense of pride he felt from being fawned over to the extreme. He reveled in the feeling of being the center of attention, and the corners of his mouth almost couldn't help but turn upwards in a smile.
He instinctively tried to avoid those burning gazes.
Just as I was about to get up and leave, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure standing under an old locust tree not far from the wonton stall.
It was none other than his ruddy-faced old Taoist priest—Xuan Chenzi!
The old Taoist priest was wearing a faded, bluish-gray robe with wide sleeves.
At that moment, he was holding a bowl of freshly cooked wontons in one hand, blowing on it, while his other hand was tucked into his sleeve, and his face showed a satisfied, craving look.
His sharp, restrained eyes were fixed intently on Shen Yan, filled with undisguised inquiry and an irrepressible interest, as if he had seen through some trick.
He just stood there, slurping his wontons while watching Chen Yan, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips.
His weary gaze met his.
Xuan Chenzi not only did not avoid it, but nodded slightly, the smile on his lips deepened, and the interest in his eyes became more intense.
It carries a sense of all-knowing understanding.
This gaze caused a very subtle, unsettling feeling to flicker through Shen Yan's heart, like being pricked by a fine needle, fleeting and gone in an instant. However, the feeling of being so eagerly looked up to by everyone, and being treated with such special regard by his own usually eccentric old Taoist priest, was like warm honey, silently soothing the vague unease in his heart, quickly swelling into an unprecedented, smug sense of pride.
He straightened his back and casually waved to his father-in-law, who was bowing excitedly, as a response.
Then, under the intense gaze of countless eyes, he turned around, his steps composed, even carrying a deliberate air of reserve and elegance, and walked towards the academy. Sunlight cast a long shadow behind him, each step seeming as if he were walking on clouds.
Xuan Chenzi watched his retreating figure, slurped up another wonton with a smile, and shook his head with a playful look in his eyes.
In the following days, Chen Yan became the absolute core of Qinglu Academy's elementary education and the Nanshi wonton stall.
In elementary education, he hardly needed to speak.
Whenever he was present, the noise would automatically subside. His desk was always spotless, and someone (mainly Wang Fu) would diligently arrange his writing implements neatly. When Master Meng asked him a question, his gaze would fall on him, and his tone would unconsciously soften. Even if his answer was completely off-topic, the content of the primers was simple, and he could still guess the correct answer.
Even the master could stroke his beard and squeeze out a few comments like, "Student Shen's insights are novel."
This elicited a knowing, admiring chuckle from the surrounding classmates.
As soon as the school bell rings, a circle of little heads immediately gathers around him.
Wang Fu remained the most loyal "supporter," racking his brains to find some trivial questions to start a conversation.
For example: "Brother Shen, your clothes are so nice," or "Brother Shen, you walk so gracefully."
The tall, thin classmate who received the writing brush became the beloved "volunteer page," eagerly helping him tidy up his books.
A chubby boy dressed in a royal blue brocade robe would also come over from time to time, offering a piece of delicate pastry he had brought from home, saying, "Please have a taste, Brother Shen."
He reveled in all of this, as if he was born to be the center of attention.
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