Visiting Elders
After resting for two days in Jing County, Wen Tingyun and Xuanji officially began their compilation work. Early on the third day, the two went to the county government's archives and books storage room.
The storeroom was located in a secluded two-story building in the backyard of the government office. Pushing open the door, a strong smell of old paper, mixed with a slight dampness, wafted out. Light streamed in through the high windows, and the four walls were lined with elm wood bookshelves, densely packed with thread-bound books with yellowed pages and loose spines, as well as stacks of dossiers and official documents bound with hemp rope.
The clerk in charge of the books was a mature and prudent man. Following the catalog provided by Wen Tingyun, he and his assistant painstakingly carried down several stacks of heavy old local chronicles and archives from the upper shelves.
"Thank you for your trouble. We can look it up ourselves." Wen Tingyun thanked him politely, and the clerk withdrew, leaving the two of them to work quietly.
For a moment, the building was extremely quiet. Wen Tingyun was engrossed in a copy of "Jingxian Customs and Traditions" with a cracked leather cover. He was focused, occasionally picking up a pen to jot down key points on the manuscript paper next to him, and sometimes frowning slightly because he could not make out a certain worm-eaten character.
Xuanji was responsible for checking the discrepancies between another, slightly more recent draft of the county gazetteer and the original archives. She read very quickly and meticulously, soon becoming engrossed in it. When she encountered places where the years were unclear or the records contradicted each other, she would quietly ask Wen Tingyun beside her for confirmation: "Sir, look here, 'Summer of the twenty-third year of Hongwu, heavy rain and hail,' but the meteorological records kept by the prefecture only record 'light rain' for the same month and year, this..."
Wen Tingyun would then come over and, using the light streaming in from the window, carefully compare the two records where the ink had already faded.
“Hmm… The state archives are mostly compiled after the fact based on reports from various counties. There may be errors due to time constraints, or intentional or unintentional embellishment. Although the records in the county annals are closer to the local reality, they are also inevitably exaggerated. They need to be supplemented with the folk notes or oral traditions of the elders at that time to get closer to the truth.” His voice was deep, and his analysis was clear and logical. Xuanji carefully noted down the key points.
In the sweltering heat of June, stalls selling chilled mung bean soup and candied plums were common along the way. Xuanji, who disliked the heat, often held plums in his mouth to stimulate saliva production. They also saw children selling lotus pods from baskets. Wen Tingyun bought a few. Sometimes, when the two of them lost track of time while proofreading manuscripts, they would peel and eat these lotus pods. The lotus seeds were sweet, and the lotus heart was slightly bitter, just like the flavors of life.
Several days passed in this way.
On this day, I heard that there was an old woman surnamed Chen in the west of the city. She was nearly eighty years old and had sharp hearing and eyesight, and could be called a "living county chronicle".
Wen Tingyun believed that visiting such elders and listening to their recounts of their lives and experiences would be of great benefit in supplementing information about people's lives and customs, and in verifying local changes. So, the master and apprentice inquired about the route, took paper and pen, and set off on foot to the west of the city to search for them.
After making several inquiries, we finally found Aunt Chen's house under an old locust tree. The courtyard had low mud walls, a half-open wooden gate, and was very clean inside.
Wen Tingyun stepped forward and gently knocked on the wooden door. After a moment, an old woman with sparse white hair and a face full of wrinkles came out slowly, leaning on a cane. Although she was hunched over, her gaze as she looked at the newcomer was not clouded.
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," Wen Tingyun said, bowing respectfully. "I am Wen Tingyun. I was entrusted by the county magistrate to participate in the revision of the county annals. I heard that you are of advanced age and have seen much of the world, so I came to visit you. I would like to ask you to tell me about the old stories and customs of Jing County over the past few decades. Would that be alright?"
Chen Ao squinted at Wen Tingyun, then glanced at Xuanji, who was dressed as a scholar and had an exceptionally handsome appearance, behind him. A smile appeared on her face: "Oh, the gentleman who is compiling the county annals, please come in. This old woman has lived for so long, and I don't have much else, but I have a bellyful of old stories, and I'm just worried that no one will listen."
There was only a rough wooden stool and a few tree stumps in the courtyard. Chen Ao sat on the threshold herself, insisting that Wen Tingyun sit on the wooden stool, while Xuanji found a tree stump, took out paper and pen, and prepared to take notes.
Once the old woman started talking, her words flowed like a gentle stream, recounting more than half a century of history. She began with the city walls she remembered from her childhood, the long-vanished river wharves, and recounted which street had opened earliest and which time-honored shop was the most trustworthy. She then spoke of her experiences fleeing during times of war; she could even clearly describe the achievements and failures of a certain county magistrate decades ago, and the hardships faced by the people after a severe drought or flood...
Her narration was tinged with a strong local accent, which Wen Tingyun had to carefully discern, occasionally asking in a gentle tone about the details. Xuanji, on the other hand, wrote with great speed, recording these vivid oral histories as accurately as possible, finding them more vivid and authentic than any history book.
As she spoke with great enthusiasm, Chen Ao's gaze fell upon Xuanji's rapidly writing pen, and she said to Wen Tingyun, "This young man is truly handsome and quick-witted, recording things so fast. You are very fortunate, sir."
Her words were ordinary, merely a casual compliment from an old woman. Wen Tingyun smiled and nodded in thanks. Xuanji, however, paused slightly, her ears burning, and could only lower her head even further.
As the sun set, the interview came to an end.
The master and apprentice had gained a great deal, and rose to thank Chen Ao sincerely before taking their leave. Chen Ao, leaning against the doorframe, saw them off, saying, "Sir, young lady, take care." The word "young lady" sounded perfectly natural, yet it was like a thunderclap from a clear sky, causing Xuanji to stiffen abruptly and instinctively stop in his tracks. Wen Tingyun was also slightly startled and turned to look.
The old woman, Chen, wore a sly yet benevolent smile, her eyes narrowed to slits. She said to Wen Tingyun, "Sir, please forgive this old woman's nagging and poor eyesight. I've lived for almost eighty years; how could I not distinguish between men and women?" She gestured towards Xuanji, "This lady, though dressed in a scholar's robe, possesses an exquisite beauty in her features, and the radiance in her eyes when she looks at you—how could she possibly hide it? She is clearly a very virtuous lady!"
Before the blushing Xuanji could speak, she turned to Wen Tingyun and said, "Sir, you are truly blessed! You have such excellent scholarship, and such a knowledgeable and understanding wife who is willing to accompany you on your arduous journeys to search for ancient books! You are truly a match made in heaven! A perfect match indeed! Hahaha..."
The old man's laughter was hearty and straightforward, but it instantly plunged the two people outside the courtyard gate into an unprecedentedly awkward silence.
Wen Tingyun, having weathered many storms, knew that in this situation, any explanation would only make things worse and make him a laughingstock. He could only bow to Granny Chen again, forcing a faint smile: "Old lady, your eyesight is... astonishing. Thank you for today, we'll take our leave now."
Xuanji felt as if he had been granted a pardon, and hurriedly lowered his head and followed.
On the way back, the atmosphere was completely different from the harmonious academic discussion they had had on the way there. A silent, suffocating awkwardness permeated the two of them. They walked in silence, one after the other, with a greater distance between them than usual.
The balance that was barely maintained by the men's clothing and the master-disciple relationship was completely shattered by a strange old woman who claimed to be her "husband and wife." Something that had been lurking in the shadows, something that had been tacitly understood and deliberately ignored, was suddenly dragged into the blinding sunlight, leaving it nowhere to hide.
Guesthouse room.
Xuanji spread out the Xuan paper and picked up his brush for the second time to write the Heart Sutra.
"Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva..." The pen tip fell, but he couldn't write the second character for a long time.
"This lady, though dressed in a scholar's robe, has such delicate features..." Chen's cheerful laughter seemed to still echo in my ears.
She subconsciously touched her face. It turned out that her identity, which she thought she had concealed so well for so long, was so obvious to a strange old woman. And the gentleman? Had he also been...?
"The light in her eyes when she looks at you..." Aunt Chen's words were like a needle, piercing through her carefully constructed facade. "Sir, you are truly blessed! To have such a knowledgeable and understanding wife, willing to accompany you on your arduous journeys to search for ancient books!"
She suddenly stood up, pushed open the window, and let the night breeze caress her burning cheeks.
The moonlight outside the window was like water, but she recalled her husband's forced smile during the day, and his response, "The old man's eyesight is... amazing." He had been so embarrassed then, yet he had to maintain his politeness. "A perfect couple... so well-matched..." Chen's laughter seemed to still echo in the night.
She sat back down at her desk and forced herself to continue writing the scriptures.
"Form is not different from emptiness, emptiness is not different from form..." Her hand trembled violently as she wrote this sentence. She recalled the focused profile of her teacher as he taught her to identify rubbings and ancient books along the way; she recalled the warmth of his hand that caught her waist when she almost fell in the ancient temple that day.
"Without eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, or mind..." Her meticulously practiced small regular script was now a mess of characters. It seemed to reflect her transgressed emotions. Her teacher's wife treated her like her own daughter, and her teacher cherished her like a disciple, yet she secretly rejoiced because of an absurd misunderstanding.
Tears finally welled up and dripped onto the scriptures, blurring them into a blur.
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