Chapter 131: News (Third Update)

The snow in Jiangzhou always fell a little heavier than in Suzhou. After only one night, the vast city of Jiangzhou had turned white from end to end. Every roof wore a snowy crown, and the dazzling blanket reflected the pale light of the storm.

To prevent the heavy snowfall from obstructing traffic, the prefectural office had sent mounted messengers through every avenue and alley early that morning, announcing that every household was to clear the snow before its own door. Anyone who neglected the order would be fined one string of cash.

Chen Jianchen rose early. When he heard the riders making their rounds, he picked up his tools and prepared to go outside and shovel snow. A-Bao saw him, hurried over, and snatched the tools away.

“Brother Liuxian, how can you go out to shovel snow?”

Chen Jianchen had already been home for some time, and the New Year was only three days away. Dressed in a brand-new padded jacket, he smiled.

“A-Bao, why can’t I shovel snow?”

She stammered, “Brother Liuxian, you’re a scholar.”

Chen Jianchen laughed heartily. “And what of it? If a man cannot even clear the snow from his own doorstep, how can he hope to sweep clean the whole world?”

Without giving her time to argue, he took back the tools, opened the door, and began to shovel away the snow, which had piled up to more than a foot in depth.

A-Bao could not prevail against him, so she had no choice but to carry out a broom and help.

By then, many of the neighbors had also come out with their own tools. When they saw Chen Jianchen working with his own hands, they were all astonished. As a scholar, a stipendiary student of Minghua Academy, and the owner of Strange Tales, he had no reason whatsoever to clear snow himself, no matter which of his identities one considered.

But gossip was only gossip. They merely whispered among themselves. Chen Jianchen had broken no law.

After roughly half an hour of work, most of the snow before Strange Tales had finally been cleared. Chen Jianchen was drenched in sweat, yet he felt indescribably refreshed from head to toe.

He slapped his palms together and looked up. Across the street, the door of the Golden Needle Clinic creaked open. Lu Xiyue, dressed in plain-colored clothes, stepped outside and gave him a radiant smile.

In Suzhou, Lu Xiyue had avenged her great wrongs and returned to Jiangzhou ahead of the others with Wang Fu. After considerable effort, she had managed to shed her status as a courtesan at the Willow Bird House. With Wang Fu acting on her behalf, she purchased a residence diagonally opposite Strange Tales, opened a small medical clinic called the Golden Needle Clinic, and hired two maidservants to assist her.

As expected, business at the Golden Needle Clinic flourished. Many women came to seek treatment, and in a short time Lu Xiyue had made quite a name for herself. People began calling her Doctor Lu.

Compared with the Golden Needle Clinic, business at Strange Tales was lukewarm, even somewhat bleak. There was no mystery to it. Chen Jianchen had been away in Suzhou for several months, and the calligraphy hanging in the shop had not been replenished. There were only the same few pieces going around and around. It would have been a miracle if business had prospered.

Chen Jianchen did not care. After returning, he ordered A-Bao to take down every piece of calligraphy hanging on the walls and burn them all.

A-Bao found the decision both baffling and painful. Those were piles of money! Any one of them could have been sold for at least a hundred copper coins. How many pounds of meat could that buy?

Yet she possessed an almost blind faith in Chen Jianchen. Though reluctant, she carried out his order without a word.

He naturally had his reasons for burning the old calligraphy. Put simply, he no longer thought much of the characters he had written before.

Because he was diligent and devoted, and because he was skilled at studying and exploring his craft, Chen Jianchen’s calligraphy improved almost every day. The fact was astonishing. By now, he had achieved sudden enlightenment, combining the styles of the great calligraphers he remembered from his former life with the experience he had gained in this one. At last, he had truly developed a distinctive character and style of his own.

His calligraphy had reached a modest level of mastery.

And since he had made that breakthrough, the works he had produced before seemed rather unbearable. He had burned them all in a single blaze, effectively destroying what he regarded as failed pieces before they could be sold and sully his reputation.

Chen Jianchen had always been a man who demanded much of himself and pursued perfection without rest.

During his journey to Suzhou, he had spent several months serving as the little fox spirit’s tutor. He had given much, but he had gained much in return. If the five hundred ingots of gold were worldly wealth, then the blood-red sandalwood case and the golden silkworm vest belonged to a realm beyond the mortal world.

He was no longer the destitute and wretched poor scholar of the past. He had become a wealthy man of considerable means.

Of course, he had no intention of touching the gold deposited in the Grand Fortune Bank. He continued to maintain his former way of life, neither flaunting his wealth nor displaying it. He wore clothes woven by his mother’s own hands and ate meals cooked by A-Bao herself. He was warm in his clothing and content with his food. That was enough.

The Master said, “With one basket of food and one gourd of drink, living in a humble alley—others could not endure such hardship, yet Hui never abandoned his joy.”

Chen Jianchen did not admire poverty itself. What he wished to learn was the optimistic and aspiring attitude toward life.

For a long time after his return, Chen Jianchen was unable to produce a work that satisfied him. In the end, he simply kept Strange Tales closed and gave up doing business altogether. He rarely went to sit in the Golden Needle Clinic. Lu Xiyue, on the other hand, came over to the Chen household every few days.

In truth, before Chen Jianchen returned, Lu Xiyue had already become familiar with Mo Sanniang and A-Bao through Wang Fu and her own introductions. They were all women, and Lu Xiyue was gentle and considerate in conversation, so she soon grew close to A-Bao and became greatly favored by Mo Sanniang.

Once, when Mo Sanniang fell ill, it was Lu Xiyue who cured her with acupuncture. Mo Sanniang praised her medical skills without end.

The women got along well, and Chen Jianchen was gratified to see it. As for why Lu Xiyue had chosen to open her clinic directly opposite his own home, he understood perfectly well.

...

Because of its position, there was not much snow before the Golden Needle Clinic. The two maidservants each took a broom, and before long they had swept it clean.

After smiling at Chen Jianchen, Lu Xiyue lowered her head and returned to the clinic.

Chen Jianchen stood at the doorway, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked up and down the street. He soon saw a carriage approaching in great haste. It stopped before him, and Wang Fu stepped down.

They had not seen each other for some time, and Wang Fu had clearly grown broader and fatter. His belly protruded in a rounded ring.

“Liuxian, come inside with your foolish elder brother. There is something I must discuss with you.”

His expression was somewhat anxious, as though he had something weighing on his mind.

Chen Jianchen frowned. He invited him into the study, waited until he was seated, and then asked, “Brother Fultai, what has happened?”

He found it strange. What urgent matter could Wang Fu possibly have at a time like this?

Wang Fu wiped his face.

“Liuxian, there is something of great importance. I had to come and warn you myself.”

“Oh? What is it?”

Lowering his voice, Wang Fu said solemnly and mysteriously, “Liuxian, I happened to hear something yesterday. The imperial court has issued a new law called the Written Language Act. It contains many prohibitions and restrictions. According to the law, speech, poetry, essays, calligraphy, and all such things will fall under its authority. I expect it will not be long before the provisions are printed into books and circulated throughout the realm.”

The literary inquisition. At last, the literary inquisition had arrived...

The words flashed through Chen Jianchen’s mind at once, looming darkly and pressing heavily upon his heart.

He had long ago guessed that, given the present circumstances, a literary inquisition would sooner or later appear. He had not expected it to come so soon. News of it had already begun circulating before the New Year. Before long, the new Written Language Act would surely stir the entire city into an uproar and become the hottest topic in every street and alley.

Wang Fu continued, “They say the Written Language Act was personally drafted by Minister He Xie, the Grand Academician of the Hall of Literary Splendor. It is therefore also called the He Xie Law. There are said to be as many as a thousand articles, and the rules are exceedingly strict. Those who violate them may receive a fine or public reprimand for minor offenses, while serious offenders may be sentenced to death. Scholars such as us will be subject to even harsher restrictions. The slightest carelessness could cost us our scholarly honors, and then neither life nor livelihood would be secure.”

Chen Jianchen raised an eyebrow. He knew perfectly well that the Written Language Act was aimed directly at the scholars of the realm, and that it was advancing with terrifying momentum.

After all, ordinary peasants in remote villages could scarcely recognize a single written character. How could the Written Language Act possibly be applied to them? Thinking of all the political measures the current sovereign had implemented since ascending the throne—whether the campaign to “honor Buddhism and spread the Dharma” or the “New Tax Law”—and the widespread resentment they had provoked among the people, as well as the many scholars who had written essays in opposition, Chen Jianchen understood that the new law had likely been brewing in the imperial court for a long time.

It had been created to silence everyone beneath Heaven.

Yet there was an old saying: “To guard the people’s mouths is more difficult than to dam a river.” Could a single Written Language Act truly suppress the resentment in the hearts of the entire population?

Wang Fu extended a finger and tapped the writing desk.

“Liuxian, I fear the couplet hanging outside Strange Tales may fall within the restrictions of the Written Language Act. In my opinion, you should replace it as soon as possible.”

Chen Jianchen was startled, then immediately understood. He rose and bowed with a solemn expression.

“Thank you for warning me, Brother Fultai.”

Wang Fu chuckled. “Although the Written Language Act has not yet officially been promulgated, and no one knows the details of its thousand articles, its general direction is unmistakable.”

“I know what to do,” Chen Jianchen said in a low voice.

Wang Fu had received the news and come to warn him at the very first opportunity. Such sincere concern was the bond shared by true friends in times of adversity.

They drank tea and chatted for a while longer.

Chen Jianchen had intended to keep Wang Fu for lunch, but Wang Fu laughed and said he had already arranged a banquet at the Number One Scholar Tower. He clasped his hands and took his leave.

Chen Jianchen saw him out and waved goodbye. Then he raised his head and looked at the two wooden plaques hanging on either side of his doorway:

With sword in hand, I cleave mountains amid the storm of empire;
With brush like writhing dragons and serpents, I leave ghosts and spirits aghast.

After gazing at them for some time, he gave a bitter smile. He brought out a stool, climbed up, and removed both plaques, tossing them casually onto the ground of the courtyard.

A-Bao saw this and was startled.

“Brother Liuxian, what are you doing? Why have you taken down the shop signs?”

Chen Jianchen sighed.

“A-Bao, chop these two wooden plaques into pieces and use them for firewood.”

A-Bao stared at him blankly, utterly unable to understand. Had Brother Liuxian lost his mind? That couplet had been praised by nearly every customer who came to buy his calligraphy. Some had even offered a high price to purchase it.

Chen Jianchen’s spirits were low, and he did not wish to say more. He waved a hand and instructed her, “Remember to burn them thoroughly.”

Then he clasped his hands behind his back and walked into the study. He sat in his chair, motionless for a long time.

At last, he rose, spread a sheet of white paper across the desk, ground the ink, and lifted his brush. After a long period of contemplation, he finally set the tip to paper and wrote one large character:

Chaos.

This world, he feared, was about to descend into chaos.