Chapter Five: An Enigmatic Maze

Song Mu had spent ten years copying calligraphy, gaining particular insight into regular script, yet he excelled most at the Slender Gold style of the Song Dynasty—a technique he could employ with effortless grace. The strokes of Slender Gold were nimble and swift, each line lean and powerful, slender yet never lacking substance, its style utterly unique.

During the Tang Dynasty, the Yan and Liu styles of regular script, each with their distinctive characteristics, had already emerged. These scripts were robust and well-formed, written with forceful precision, dignified and grand, and stood as paragons among regular scripts. But the Slender Gold style, created by Emperor Huizong of Song, was a singular invention in the world of calligraphy.

In this world, calligraphy had long since evolved from clerical to regular script, yet the established styles varied. Even though the Yan and Liu styles were widely advocated by scholars, the forms still retained echoes of ancient charm, borrowing the spirit of the old to invigorate the written word.

Now, the two characters “Like a Tiger” that Song Mu had just written exuded an air of clarity and grandeur. Paired with the couplet he had composed, even the fortune-teller, who had spent years in study, was left wide-eyed in amazement.

“You are truly worthy of your family name, Young Master Song. Such accomplishment is far beyond our reach,” the fortune-teller exclaimed, his eyes darting as he reached for the paper. But before he could grasp it, Butcher Wang snatched it away and tossed a few copper coins toward the fortune-teller.

“Half-Immortal Sun, this won’t do. This is a gift from Young Master Song to my son. He is to keep it with him always. Take this for your ink and paper,” Butcher Wang said.

Half-Immortal Sun could only watch in regret as the paper was taken, then quickly turned to Song Mu with hopeful eyes. “Young Master Song, why not bestow another piece of your calligraphy? In return, I will divine your fortune, to help you seek auspiciousness and avoid calamity.”

But Song Mu had no mind for such things. He was occupied with clearing his name and could not risk exposing anything with his hurried writing. He merely smiled, saluted politely, and walked away at a brisk pace. Butcher Wang hurried after him, intending to offer a couple of pounds of his best pork belly, only to see Song Mu already striding out of the alley.

“Sigh, Young Master Song has become much kinder these days,” Butcher Wang murmured. Failing to catch up, he resolved to send the meat directly to the Song residence later. Beside him, Half-Immortal Sun twitched his thin mustache and approached.

“You’ve received a great favor. Those two characters from Young Master Song are worth far more than your meat,” he said enviously.

“Don’t get any ideas, Half-Immortal Sun. That’s not for you,” Butcher Wang replied, stroking his beard. The fortune-teller only shook his head, full of admiration.

“The power of a scholar is not something ordinary folk like us can comprehend. Though Young Master Song is but a licentiate, with just these two characters, I foresee a promising future for him—and for the Song family.”

Butcher Wang didn’t care much, but upon returning to his shop, he was surprised to find his son—who had been crying for hours—now peacefully asleep, soothed by his wife. In the boy’s small hand was clutched the very paper Song Mu had inscribed, the words “Like a Tiger” bold upon it. Butcher Wang stared, then muttered to himself, “Well, Young Master Song truly has brought my family a stroke of good fortune.”

While he spoke to himself, Song Mu had already crossed the northern part of the city, making his way south toward the county office.

The southern part of the city was home to the county yamen, as well as a newly built residential district where officials, wealthy merchants, and local gentry resided. Song Mu was not heading to the yamen, but to seek out a certain family named Pan. In his memories, it was because of a wager with Pan Wenhao, the young master of that house, that he had ventured outside the city. Pan Wenhao had also accompanied him then.

Like Song Mu, Pan Wenhao was a licentiate and a fellow student, but often relied on his father’s position as the county bailiff to act with arrogance, leading a group of scholars in the county school and bullying others. The timid and awkward Song Mu had long been his target, enduring repeated taunts and, on occasion, beatings for failing to copy assignments—a true scoundrel’s son in every sense.

It was Pan Wenhao who had proposed a wager of ten taels of silver, daring Song Mu to go outside the city and test his courage. Song Mu was certain he could learn something about what happened before he went to Yanggang from Pan.

He arrived at the Pan residence—a grand three-courtyard compound, with two stone lions standing guard at the gate, imposing in their presence. Song Mu stepped forward and knocked. After a moment, the door opened, revealing a thin, dark-skinned old servant who scrutinized Song Mu and, seeing his scholarly attire, greeted him politely.

“Young sir, this is the Pan residence. May I ask your business?”

Song Mu smiled and, displaying the jade badge at his waist, replied, “I am Song Mu, a student of the county school. As today is a day of rest, I have come to call on Young Master Pan. Might he be at home?”

“Young master is studying diligently today. Perhaps you could return another time,” the old servant replied.

“I’m afraid that won’t do,” Song Mu countered, holding out a hand. “Please, just inform him that Song Mu has returned alive from Yanggang, and that he owes me what he promised.”

“Yanggang? Oh, you’re that—” The old servant seemed to realize something and, bowing, turned to deliver the message inside.

As Song Mu waited at the gate, he touched his nose thoughtfully. News of his trip to Yanggang had evidently spread throughout the city—was this the gossip of the age? The tale of a scion of a declining family, good for nothing, who took a wager to seek thrills at the perilous Yanggang, nearly losing his life before being rescued—there was certainly something for people to talk about.

Since the matter had already tarnished his reputation, he was all the more determined to seek justice and would not rest until he had questioned Pan Wenhao.

Soon, the side door opened and Song Mu was led by the old servant into the courtyard, then around to the rear garden. There, he saw a young man kneeling and reciting aloud, while a beautiful woman sat on a chair nearby, holding a willow switch. Whenever the kneeling youth faltered, she would strike his back with the switch.

Song Mu stepped forward and saw clearly that the kneeling figure was Pan Wenhao, and the woman wielding the switch, who bore some resemblance to him, must be his mother.

He bowed and saluted. “Song Mu greets Madam.”

Madam Pan glanced at Song Mu but continued her discipline, giving Pan Wenhao another firm lash before addressing Song Mu. “Young Master Song, what brings you here today? What is it that Wenhao has promised you?”

Song Mu saw Pan Wenhao’s face twisted in misery as he recited the Great Learning, so he lowered his gaze and softly replied, “Madam, I have come to inquire about the circumstances which led me to Yanggang some days ago. There are strange gaps in my memory, and upon waking, I could not recall much, so I have come to ask my schoolmate Pan for clarification.”

Upon hearing this, Madam Pan looked displeased, suspecting her son’s involvement, but she did not show anger. She simply said to Pan Wenhao, “Wenhao, explain yourself properly to Young Master Song.”

Pan Wenhao, grateful for reprieve, hurriedly turned toward Song Mu while still kneeling. Song Mu quickly stepped aside, bowing respectfully to Madam Pan. “Forgive my presumption, Madam. A true gentleman kneels only to ruler, parent, or teacher. Pan Wenhao and I are fellow students; I dare not accept such a gesture.”

Madam Pan raised an eyebrow at this, evidently regarding Song Mu with higher esteem, and nodded for Pan Wenhao to rise.

Helped to his feet after kneeling so long, Pan Wenhao showed no gratitude toward Song Mu. Instead, he said, “Song Mu, I did challenge you to test your courage outside the city, but I never told you to go to Yanggang.”

Song Mu remained calm and pressed further. “Then what happened? I remember leaving the city with you, so why was I left alone outside, nearly losing my life?”

His words carried a trace of anger, which Madam Pan noted with a cold snort. Pan Wenhao shivered and, collecting himself, explained, “I only took you to the old graves five li outside town. It was late, and Qi Dazuo and the others wanted to go back. The woods were dark, and Xiao Wu suddenly claimed he heard ghosts wailing. He bolted, and I panicked and ran too.”

“So you simply abandoned me?” Song Mu demanded.

Pan Wenhao looked embarrassed. “How could I remember? You were crying and following behind at first, then suddenly you were gone. I was too afraid to look back and ran all the way home, only realizing then that you were missing.”