Taking root
The news reached Qixia'ao.
Looking at the detailed arrangements of "Huifeng Silk Shop", Ling Zhan finally revealed a cold smile.
“Alright. From now on, there will only be ‘Chen’s’ Huifeng Silk Shop in the prefectural city, not the Shen family.”
Xuan Chenzi nodded: "Changing this name is like a dragon entering the abyss. Prefect Chen has personally placed this 'protective charm' on us, and he will only protect us more closely."
Shen Yan breathed a long sigh of relief, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from his heart.
Meanwhile, "Huifeng Silk Shop" opened quietly in the prefectural city.
The news of Chen Tongzhi's "gift of the name" had already spread, and coupled with the fact that the shop's location, decoration, and merchandise all exuded an aura of "having a powerful background," the opening went exceptionally smoothly, and no one dared to disturb it.
Under the very nose of Chen Tongzhi's accountant, Su Wan skillfully managed this excellent base and informant.
Deep in Qixia'ao, the mother species of "Snowflake" sleeps peacefully.
Meanwhile, far out in the suburbs of the prefecture, in the "Mulberry Fields," the cotton seeds sown by the "He Niangzi" have quietly sprouted.
When Chen Tongzhi heard his confidant report that the opening of "Huifeng Silk Shop" was going smoothly and that the shop was full of guests, most of whom were there because of him, he clapped his hands and laughed, feeling that he had made a brilliant move, gaining both practical benefits and official prestige.
As dawn broke, golden rays pierced the cool night air of Qixia'ao, spilling across the cleared ruins.
Amidst the rising smoke from the chimneys, the clear voices of children flow like a spring, meandering through the newly awakened valley.
However, the source of this sound, the clearest, smoothest, and most rhythmic core, is the little stone.
He sat upright on a smooth stone pier, his back as straight as a young pine tree, with a scroll of "The Great Learning" spread out in front of him, its edges worn but cleanly starched.
The morning light fell on his focused little face, making his eyes sparkle.
The sound began, like pearls falling onto a jade plate:
The phrase "The Way of Great Learning" begins with a pause, a steady opening that seems to knock on the door of knowledge.
“In—the—manifest—virtue—”
The two characters “明德” (Mingde) are pronounced with a slightly raised tone, carrying the clear and bright quality unique to children, yet strangely revealing a longing for “the virtue of light”.
"In a way that is close to the people"
The pronunciation of "亲民" is slowed down, with the tip of the tongue lightly touching the upper palate, resulting in a round and full sound that seems to have a comforting meaning.
"Attaining—the—Ultimate—Goodness—"
The final syllable "善" (shan) is long and steady, like a perfect rest, falling smoothly.
Each word is clear, each sentence flows smoothly, and the intonation subtly matches the rhythm and spirit of the text itself.
It wasn't rote memorization, but rather as if the ideas were already flowing in one's mind.
Several older children sat around him, scratching their heads and stumbling as they recited the poem, occasionally glancing at the small figure.
His eyes were filled with astonishment and admiration.
Xuan Chenzi stood to one side, stroking his sparse beard, listening with his eyes closed, a hint of almost intoxicated satisfaction on his lips.
This little stone is naturally imbued with spirit!
That photographic memory is astonishing!
What's even more remarkable is this natural affinity for the meaning of the scriptures and the rhythm that arises naturally when reciting them.
When it comes to reading, even my own clever apprentice, Douya, is far inferior to this child's seemingly innate talent for books.
Qixia'ao was lacking in resources; writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones were luxuries.
The little stone then silently wrote on the smooth stone slab with blackened charcoal, the characters were square and vigorous.
Using withered branches to perform calculations on the sand, the method is clear and logical.
Xuan Chenzi regarded him as a rare gem, imparting all his knowledge to him and setting extremely high standards for his studies. He wished he could pour all his wisdom into this small body and mold him into a pillar of the family that would bring glory to the future.
"Alright, that concludes today's morning lesson."
Xuan Chenzi opened his eyes, his sharp eyes concealing their true nature. "Little Stone, stay here. The rest of you, help Granny Wang weed the herb garden."
The children, as if granted a pardon, scattered in all directions.
Little Stone stood up respectfully and bowed meticulously: "Yes, Master." He carefully put away the book, his little face showing no sign of relaxation.
Xuan Chenzi tested several profound principles and key points.
Little Stone answered fluently, quoting classical texts and analyzing them meticulously, even offering some naive yet insightful observations.
The old Taoist priest's eyes showed even greater admiration, and he immediately assigned a new task: "Today, have memorize the entire 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng' three times, and tomorrow explain the beauty of its parallel prose and allusions."
"Your disciple obeys."
Little Stone agreed, but his little brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.
It's not that I'm afraid of difficulties, but rather...
Outside the window, a few clear, melodious, and incredibly familiar bird calls, like invisible threads, gently plucked at another end of his heartstrings.
Despite the mountain of schoolwork, Little Stone always reserved a clear and pure space in his heart for that forest spirit.
That was an unbreakable bond formed at the mountaintop amidst the clouds.
It seemed to be a talent flowing in his blood.
Without any deliberate practice, he could discern the meaning of every bird's song.
With a bone whistle that he never leaves his side, he can lightly twirl it around his lips and imitate the language of birds so well that he can converse freely with his feathered friends.
His closest companion was the snowbird, pure white with feathers as white as frost and as silver as snow, which he called "Abacus"—
It symbolizes that it can be as precise and swift as abacus beads in conveying messages.
At that moment, "Abacus" perched gracefully on a withered branch outside the window, its little head tilted, its black bean-like eyes staring at him, emitting soft, urging chirps. Little Stone glanced quickly at the old Taoist priest who was resting with his eyes closed, then slipped out of the house as nimbly as a cat.
The little hand carefully took out a small handful of crushed dried millet from her bosom.
With a joyful cry, the abacus flew like a silver streak and landed in his outstretched palm, nimbly pecking at its food.
"Shh...keep your voice down," Little Stone whispered, his fingertips gently stroking the smooth, cool feathers of the "Abacus," his eyes filled with pure joy and affection. "Don't let Master find out that I'm 'neglecting my duties' again."
He blew a few short, strange bone whistles at the abacus, as if giving it careful instructions.
The snowbird is extremely spiritual.
After finishing the millet, it affectionately rubbed its cheek against his, then flapped its wings and took flight, transforming into a streak of silver light.
In an instant, it disappeared into the mist swirling around the mountaintop.
This scene was witnessed by Ling Zhan, who was inspecting the defensive fortifications from a distance.
A barely perceptible hint of tenderness flickered in her cold eyes.
She knew deeply that her son's love for books was profound, and she also understood the high hopes that Xuan Chenzi placed on him.
But this talent for befriending birds and beasts is also a treasure bestowed upon him by heaven, a unique tenderness in this cruel world.
She never thought of stifling him; she only told him: academic studies are important, and priorities must be distinguished.
A few days later, on a cloudy evening.
The guard duty rotation at Qixia'ao has just been completed.
Little Stone, bathed in the dim glow of the oil lamp, frowned as he struggled with the ornate, layered allusions and parallel sentences in "Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng"—
The charcoal pencil traced across the stone slab, leaving neat and powerful ink marks.
Sudden!
A sudden, extremely sharp, and unusually melodious bird call, like a sharp blade tearing through cloth, pierced through the deep twilight, approaching from afar and stabbing fiercely into the valley!
It's an abacus!
Little Stone suddenly looked up, dropped his charcoal pencil, and dashed out of the house like an arrow!
Almost simultaneously, Xuan Chenzi suddenly opened his eyes, his eyes flashing with a sharp light, like lightning!
Ling Zhan, Shen Yan, and the others were also startled by this unusual alarm. They quickly gathered in the open space in the valley.
A silver bolt of lightning tore through the dark sky, swooping down with a piercing shriek, and struck precisely at Little Stone's outstretched arm!
"Abacus" bristled with excitement and agitation, showing an unprecedented level of agitation. It kept pecking at the leather pouch at Little Stone's waist, which was used to store small items, with its hard beak.
Little Stone understood immediately. His fingers flew as he untied the leather pouch and quickly pulled out a sealed bamboo tube, thinner than his little finger and smelling of night dew and earth!
"Mother! It's a secret letter from Brother Zhu and the others! 'Abacus' has found them!"
Little Stone's voice trembled slightly with excitement and pride in completing the task.
Ling Zhan immediately took the bamboo tube, squeezed the wax seal with a slight force with his fingertips, and pulled out the extremely thin strip of paper inside.
By the flickering light of the torch, one could see a few words hastily written in secret script on it.
The message was brief, yet every word resonated like a thunderclap!
[In the newly established workshop of the Ministry of Works in Linshan Town, a supervisor speaking with a Beijing accent has whipped two slave laborers to death!]
Suspected to be henchmen of the "nobleman from the capital" from the previous incident! They have already arrived in Qingzhou, or may be in Linshan Town!
Everyone's expression instantly turned grim.
The clues to revenge, tinged with the stench of blood, resurface in a sinister manner!
Ling Zhan turned his gaze to Xiao Shitou, his eyes filled with undisguised approval and heavy solemnity.
"Stone, well done! The abacus has done a great job!"
Little Stone puffed out his small chest, his cheeks flushed with excitement and his mother's praise, but his eyes remained clear and firm.
He gently stroked the now-quiet abacus on his arm and whispered, "It's because the abacus flies fast and finds its target accurately."
My thoughts have quietly returned to the unfinished "Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng".
Looking at her son, Shen Yan was overwhelmed with emotion and filled with countless feelings.
This child is skilled in both literature and martial arts, possessing the ability to recite scriptures and understand principles, and can even communicate with birds and beasts. His future achievements will far surpass those of my own childhood!
At this moment, his tender shoulders and the intelligent silver bird have become an indispensable and strange force in this home that is in turmoil.
The night deepened, pressing heavily over Qixia'ao.
The lights in the valley remained on all night.
The light footsteps of the patrolling guards and the intermittent murmurs of a child in a distant shack mingled with the silence.
Even clearer is the suppressed, intermittent weeping that could not be contained deep within the shacks where the artisan families were temporarily housed.
Like the mournful cry of a wounded cub, it echoed in the cold night.
Ling Zhan stood alone on the newly reinforced lookout post, his figure blending into the inky night, overlooking the slumbering yet sorrowfully surging valley. The short, secret message sent back by A-Zhu was like a poisoned ice pick, piercing her heart.
The henchmen of the "nobleman of the capital" have arrived, and they are already so ferocious and violent the moment they show their faces!
Old grudges have not yet been completely settled, and two new blood debts have been added!
The sound of steady footsteps came from behind, carrying a hint of barely perceptible anxiety.
It is a deep-seated aversion.
He carried a simple earthenware pot in his hand, from which wafted the aroma of warm jujube tea.
"Have a drink, Zhan."
He handed over the pottery pot, his voice low and hoarse, "You've been standing here for almost an hour."
Ling Zhan took it, and the warm ceramic surface transmitted a touch of warmth through his fingertips, which were icy cold.
She didn't turn around, her gaze remaining fixed on the boundless darkness: "You see it?"
"Um."
Shen Yan walked to her side and stood beside her, gazing at the same thick ink that swallowed the light.
"Aunt Zhang fainted again from crying this afternoon. Master Li's son, clutching the cornbread given to him by Granny Wang, didn't eat a single bite, just lay there with his eyes open until dawn… Although they were rescued, the plight of their relatives in Kaoshan Town—"
His voice was filled with empathetic, suppressed pain and burning anger.
Ling Zhan remained silent, taking a sip of the slightly astringent jujube tea.
The date pit was hard and bitter, stuck between my teeth, like a blood feud that I couldn't swallow.
"Ah Zhan."
Shen Yan took a deep breath, as if using all his strength, his voice carrying an unprecedented heaviness and an almost pleading earnestness.
"We must take revenge! Now! We can't wait!"
Ling Zhan finally turned his head and looked at him in the faint starlight.
His usual cynical or ingratiating expression was gone from his weary face.
All that remained was urgency, anxiety, and a near-burnt-out resolve.
“I know you are planning and strategizing. ‘Huifeng Silk Shop’ and ‘Sangzi Cotton Field’ are both long-term plans. Master Xuanchen is a man of profound wisdom and foresight.”
Shen Yan spoke faster, with an urgent need to vent, "But Zhan, people's hearts can't wait that long! The people gathered in Qixia'ao now are like frightened birds who have just experienced the destruction of their families and been pulled back from the brink of hell by us! Their hatred for the Ministry of Works and those high-ranking nobles in the capital is the only thing keeping them alive and giving them a breath! It's their last breath to keep them alive!"
He suddenly pointed to the low, dilapidated shacks in the valley, which looked like lurking wounded beasts in the night.
His tone suddenly rose, and he became excited.
"Did you hear that? That crying wasn't just filled with sorrow! It was filled with fear! Fear that went to the bone! They were afraid! Afraid that the murderers stained with the blood of their loved ones would still be at large, afraid that we would choose to remain silent for the sake of the so-called 'big picture' and 'long-term', afraid that the next ones to be dragged into that dark dungeon and whipped to death would be themselves, or the last remaining members of their family! They were even more afraid... even more afraid that we, the people they regarded as their 'backbone,' would also choose to remain silent!"
Chen Yan's voice trembled slightly, carrying a sharp and earnest tone that pierced the heart.
"The blood of Uncle Zhang and Master Li cannot be shed in vain! New grudges piled on top of old hatreds, we cannot stop after only half-retribution! Right now, the henchmen of the capital are in Linshan Town! Right under our noses, they are tyrannizing and disregarding human life! If we back down and endure this now, the hearts of those we have just rescued, those who have just begun to have a tiny bit of hope for a 'home' in Qixia'ao, will crumble instantly like a punctured husk!"
He took a breath and emphasized, "They'll think we're completely powerless to protect them, and they might even... doubt whether we ever truly cared about those who died, whether we ever cared about their lives!"
He suddenly reached out and grabbed Ling Zhan's arm tightly with astonishing force.
His gaze was intense, like a red-hot iron, staring intently at her.
"Ah Zhan, this is not an impulsive act! This is crucial to stabilizing morale and safeguarding our foundation! We need a victory, a resounding and vengeful one that will terrify the enemy! Let us use blood and fire to tell everyone, and ourselves—blood debts must be repaid! No matter who our opponent is, no matter how high their position in the capital, anyone who dares to touch our people will pay a bloody price!"
He looked directly into Ling Zhan's eyes: "Only with such swift and decisive measures can Qixia'ao truly become a 'home' where people can put their hearts at ease, instead of another cold refuge that could be crushed by fear at any moment!"
The night wind howled, blowing the stray hairs at Ling Zhan's temples and brushing coldly against his cheeks.
She listened quietly to Shen Yan's heartfelt words, each one piercing to the heart.
He sees things very clearly.
It pinpointed the same deep-seated worry churning within her—the very foundation of "cohesion" and "trust."
It is precisely because this blood feud remains unavenged and a powerful enemy is approaching that the situation has quietly loosened.
The power of Qixia'ao has never been limited to its towering stone walls and sharp weapons.
Even more so, it lies in the hearts within this valley, tightly bound together, willing to die for it.
If people's hearts are scattered, their beliefs will collapse.
Even the strongest fortress.
It will also collapse from within.
------
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