Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Whereabouts of Second Brother

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As the year drew to a close, all the young men at the clan academy were preparing for the New Year festivities. The only exception was those tribute students who were heading north to sit for the examinations. The scholarly debates that usually filled the Hall of Daytime Glory had, for the most part, quieted.

Yet, this was only true for the majority.

The scolding from the professor that day had not been a major event for Zhang Yue. Afterwards, however, he did vent his frustration to Guo Lin.

Guo Lin’s words echoed those of Zhang Cai: the teacher only rebuked him so frankly because he valued him, treating him as a true disciple in his heart.

With Guo Lin’s reassurance, Zhang Yue felt somewhat relieved.

He also knew that the professor typically lectured in the mornings, and after the hour of Shen, only answered questions. For Zhang Yue to be permitted to consult the professor at that time was not exactly a rare privilege, yet for someone of Zhang Yue’s humble background, it was a mark of special favor.

He was not oblivious to those who treated him well.

Thus, every day after the hour of Shen, regardless of wind or rain, Zhang Yue would make his way to the Hall of Daytime Glory.

As the year’s end approached, Zhang Yue noticed that although there were fewer students in the hall each day, more and more visitors came, drawn by the professor’s reputation.

Zhang Yue always left his shoes at the very end of the steps. Some visitors, unaware of custom, would carelessly kick their shoes aside, but Zhang Yue would quietly arrange them before entering the hall.

In winter, a layer of felt had been spread across the wooden floors, so stepping upon it no longer sent a chill to the bone. This spared Zhang Yue the embarrassment of his thin socks.

Before the professor arrived, the early students and visitors would gather in small groups and converse. Most paid Zhang Yue little heed; occasionally, a few would frown slightly, but those like Zhang Cai remained friendly.

Aside from Zhang Cai, Zhang Yue spoke little, preferring to read quietly.

Zhang Cai remarked that since joining the Hall of Daytime Glory, Zhang Yue had become increasingly well-behaved.

Once the professor arrived, he would immediately begin addressing the students’ questions.

Zhang Yue always listened with utmost attentiveness, unwilling to miss a single word. Even if he did not understand, he would jot it down to ponder later. Judging by the questions posed by others, Zhang Yue could tell that his own learning still lagged behind his peers in the clan, but that gap was steadily narrowing.

In his spare time, Zhang Yue would borrow various books from the library, reading anything with words, regardless of subject.

Over the past few months, he had managed to read nearly half the volumes in the library. Though most were not classics, they would serve him well in composing poetry, essays, and policy arguments. As the saying goes, “If you truly wish to master poetry, the effort lies beyond the poems themselves.”

Zhang Yue always waited until the end to present his questions.

He would carefully submit the queries he had prepared the previous day. Since the aforementioned incident, the professor had become even more strict with Zhang Yue. It was now commonplace for him to rebuke Zhang Yue harshly.

Zhang Yue bore it patiently. Once the professor’s anger had cooled, Zhang Yue would shamelessly continue seeking his guidance.

Witnessing this, the professor’s demeanor softened, and he inquired, “Have you continued practicing your calligraphy lately?”

Zhang Yue replied, “Aside from copying texts daily, I devote an hour each evening to practicing my handwriting.”

The professor nodded approvingly. Just then, another student began to ask a question.

The professor motioned for him to wait, then turned back to Zhang Yue and said, “Remember, in calligraphy, you must not be impatient or rush to learn other styles. Build your foundation step by step, but do not become rigid! The art of calligraphy lies in seeking the unknown; the study of the classics lies in verifying what is known.”

A nearby student asked, “Sir, why do you say that the art of calligraphy lies in seeking the unknown?”

The professor smiled, picked up his brush, and drew two horizontal lines on the table before him.

To Zhang Yue, they looked like two perfect parallels, and the other students marveled as well.

The professor explained, “No matter how straight these lines appear, there are always imperfections. Even if I write ten thousand lines, none will be perfectly straight. Yet, do you not think that my ten-thousandth stroke has improved compared to my first?”

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“This is the pursuit of perfection!” the students replied in unison.

Zhang Yue nodded, pondering the phrase “the study of the classics lies in verifying what is known”—reading and reflecting upon the classics is a path to self-discovery.

Another student posed a question, but the professor continued speaking to Zhang Yue: “You are not a disciple of my clan’s academy, so I cannot formally instruct you in calligraphy. However, I have here a copy of ‘The Nine Principles’ by Cai Yong. Take it and study the methods of brushwork and grip it describes.”

With that, the professor took a slip of paper from his inner robe and handed it to Zhang Yue.

Zhang Yue received it with both hands.

This time, he was truly moved. The professor, although stern, was treating him as a genuine student.

“Thank you, sir!” Zhang Yue bowed deeply.

The professor nodded with satisfaction, all the while Zhang Heng watched the scene unfold.

After supper, beneath the moon, Zhang Heng and Lin Xi walked side by side.

They spoke for a time about traveling north to the capital for the examinations—the journey, the sights along the way, and the glory that awaited should success be theirs.

For a while, they set aside their rivalry and became as genuine friends.

“We’ll surely pass through Hangzhou, then on to Yangzhou before reaching the capital. The beauty of Suzhou and Hangzhou is famed throughout the land.”

“Indeed,” Zhang Heng smiled, “With ten thousand strings of cash at your waist, you could ride a crane down to Yangzhou. You’re quite the schemer—here in Pucheng, I act as host, and once in Hangzhou, you’ll expect me to treat you in turn.”

Lin Xi replied, “Brother Ziping, that’s rather narrow-minded of you—hardly the broad spirit I so admire.”

At this, Zhang Heng laughed heartily.

Lin Xi continued, “Since I am to receive your hospitality, let me speak my heart openly. Brother Ziping, for Zhang Sanlang to reach such proficiency in calligraphy in barely a month—he must be an extraordinary person, not to be underestimated.”

Zhang Heng only smiled.

“But I always knew you regarded him with favor,” Lin Xi added.

Zhang Heng chuckled, “You’re mistaken, you see only half the truth. I look at Zhang Yue differently, but it’s not because of him—it’s on account of his second brother.”

“Oh? Zhang Erlang?” Lin Xi’s eyes sparkled. “Why have you never mentioned such a figure? Is he not here? Did he go to the provincial exams?”

“There was an incident, so he is not in Jianzhou. But I have news of him now. During the coming provincial exam, you’ll meet him.”

Lin Xi said, “Your standards are high, brother. Anyone who earns your attention must be remarkable indeed. If I have the chance, I hope to meet him—do introduce me.”

Zhang Heng made no reply.

A few days before the New Year, the students had all returned home.

The Hall of Daytime Glory was nearly empty, so Zhang Yue and Guo Lin had fewer texts to copy.

Finally free, the two sat by a brazier in the gatehouse, warming themselves as they chatted. Occasionally, they glanced out the window to see snow swirling, blanketing both distant mountains and the rooftops nearby.

“It’s bitterly cold!” Zhang Yue held a scroll in one hand and warmed the other by the fire, switching hands from time to time.

Guo Lin remarked, “It’s always colder in the mountains—down below, it’s not so bad.”

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At that moment, the kettle atop the brazier began to bubble. Guo Lin quickly poured two bowls of hot tea.

Zhang Yue, enjoying his senior’s thoughtfulness, lifted the steaming bowl and took small sips, feeling warmth spread from his chest to his very core.

“Senior, you truly are virtuous, brewing such excellent tea.”

“Of course… Wait, virtuous? Are you comparing me to a woman?”

Zhang Yue chuckled mischievously—another day, another prank on his senior.

As he basked in his triumph, footsteps approached. Zhang Yue looked up to see the dorm prefect, Zhang Heng, enter.

What was he doing here?

“Prefect!”

Both Zhang Yue and Guo Lin rose to salute.

Zhang Heng, clad in thick furs and leather boots, surveyed the place with his hands behind his back. “It’s so cold, and you two choose to warm yourselves here where there’s barely any shelter. You must be suffering.”

Zhang Yue replied earnestly, “Prefect, the library offers shelter, but no fires are allowed. Here in the gatehouse, we can have a brazier, but except for this wall, we’re exposed on three sides. In fact, if a small shed were added…”

He went on, making several suggestions, seizing the opportunity to present his case while the prefect was here.

The more Zhang Yue spoke, the bolder his requests became. Zhang Heng could not help but burst out laughing. “Good! Good! Your temperament is very different from your second brother’s.”

At the mention of his second brother, Zhang Yue was momentarily stunned, recalling what Zhang Cai had said about Zhang Heng’s strained relationship with his second brother. Was this a prelude to revenge?

Zhang Heng saw Zhang Yue’s expression and said coolly, “There’s nothing but a clash of tempers between your second brother and me. In fact, I admire his talent. Still, I’m no less gifted. When the provincial exams come, let’s see who triumphs first!”

“What? My second brother is going to the capital for the provincial exams? How did you learn this?”

Zhang Heng shot him a cold smile. “Had your brother not fled his marriage, you’d be living in comfort now, not toiling here in the cold, unable to light a fire without permission. Now that you know your brother is sitting for the provincial exams, you’re trying to find out all you can about his prospects from me, setting aside old grudges?”

“If that’s so, what a shameless person he is!”

Zhang Yue’s face flushed with shame and anger at Zhang Heng’s words.

Guo Lin spoke up, “Prefect, Zhang Erlang and Zhang Yue are brothers, bound by blood. Whatever rift there may be, how could a younger brother not worry about his elder’s fate? Prefect, forgive me, but I cannot agree with your judgment.”

Zhang Heng glared at Guo Lin.

Zhang Yue added, “Prefect, whatever lies between my brother and me is our affair. You must already know his whereabouts. If you wish to inform me, please do so; if you only mean to humiliate me, then kindly take your leave.”

Zhang Heng laughed, “Such pride—well, you do have some spirit.”

“Zhang Erlang has already passed the preliminary selection and is preparing for the provincial exams in the capital,” Zhang Heng said.

To hear this confirmed by Zhang Heng truly shocked Zhang Yue. So his second brother was indeed heading north for the exams—but from where had he qualified? Had his guesses been wrong? Had his brother not gone to the capital to seek out his teacher, Chen Xiang?

“Where is my brother now?”

“Suzhou,” Zhang Heng replied.

At this, Zhang Yue drew a sharp breath, finally understanding why his brother had fled his marriage.