Chapter 118: Is It Affection?

“Hmm? The rest are all yours. I made three extra for you, so you can give them to whoever you wish in the future,” Wang Ge said, then returned her full attention to her work.

The characters on the gu vessel were inked in tracing script. She did not understand the small seal script well enough to judge whether the writing was standard or not. But replicating inscriptions was a fundamental skill for a woodcarver, especially when only carving characters. Using the intaglio technique, she simply followed the strokes on the gu.

“I made three extra for you, so you can give them to whoever you want…” Xie Ju pressed his lips in delight. He was glad to hear this; he had not misjudged Wang Ge.

This gu was an antique, and by regulations, it could not be taken down the cliff. He had obtained it only after bowing dozens of times to the Sili Colonel Lord Bian, enduring the piercing gaze of “Bian the Crouching Tiger” for so long that he nearly wept. Only then did Lord Bian grant him the gu for half a day, with strict orders to return it by the next morning.

Xie Ju was so attached to this wooden gu not only because the inscription was in the “small seal script” from the early Qin standardization period, not the current “regular seal script,” but also because this gu was a rare example, possibly a standard seven-sided gu from the Qin era!

If Wang Ge were to generously give away such a hard-won treasure to others, Xie Ju was uncertain whether he could sincerely maintain their friendship thereafter, and he would certainly no longer trouble himself helping her seek antiques.

“Hah.” He increasingly enjoyed watching Wang Ge’s focused expression while carving, and he leaned close to her, blowing away the wood shavings together.

“Tsk, stay away from the blade.”

“Hmph!”

At that moment, Liu Bo and his fellow disciples came down the rocky slope together. Night had fallen completely, and the moonlight could not illuminate the tangled vines beneath their feet. They stumbled several times; if not for Liu Bo’s quick reflexes—catching a tree with one arm and grabbing a fellow disciple with the other—one of the Meng clan disciples would have tumbled down and been injured.

Fortunately, there was no harm done, and Liu Bo retrieved a dropped cloth bag.

Upon entering the restricted zone, they hurried to the kitchen, but the evening meal was already finished. Several disciples returned ahead; Liu Bo picked up two bundles of twigs along the way and exchanged them at the kitchen for firewood money.

Being handsome had its advantages. The kitchen servant heated some steamed buns that remained and ladled extra vegetable sauce for Liu Bo. He ate there and, upon leaving, passed by Wang Ge’s tent. The entrance flap was down, faint yellow light shining through.

He slowed his steps slightly, unconsciously touching the stone inside the cloth bag at his waist, then quickened his pace to return.

Liu Bo was one of thirty-one formal students studying the Five Classics at Qinghe Manor. He was the only one recommended by the county governor, and also the poorest among them. His father’s salary was nearly all spent on writing materials, especially ink, which was incredibly costly and beyond the reach of ordinary people.

At home, Liu Bo practiced calligraphy using the ashes scraped from the bottom of pots mixed with pork lard grease and water—just enough to write on bamboo slips. Before enrolling, his mother asked, “You’re thirteen now, the age to consider marriage. You’re thoughtful; do you have a favorite girl in your heart?”

To favor meant to cherish. Liu Bo only understood the words’ meaning but was unsure what that feeling truly was. Yet when asked, the image that immediately surfaced in his mind was Wang Ge.

Only Wang Ge.

Did he cherish her? Certainly not—not yet to the point of constant thoughts or deep affection.

But he admired her.

Her determination, independence, and artisan’s ambition; her earnestness and sincerity when carving—these mirrored his own dedication to reading and writing. If he could hold her hand through life, at least they would not grow weary of each other. He would encourage her to pursue the artisan’s path with courage; she would be the kind of wife who valued little for wealth and spurred him onward in his studies.

Knowing his feelings, Liu Bo faced them calmly. Henceforth, he had to endure hardships even more, at least to secure a future so she might entrust him her heart, and that she and her family would suffer less.

He took out the mountain stone he had gathered—a rare green hue—and moved a stone from the tent corner to his knees, beginning to polish it. Let us not forget, he was an artisan too; crafting a stone hairpin should pose no problem.

It was the hour of midnight.

Xie Ju did not return that night but curled up in a corner of Wang Ge’s tent, already fast asleep. Wang Ge was exhausted but could not rest yet. She blew out the candle and stepped outside to breathe the cool air. Turning around, she was startled fully awake: a bird about a foot long, resembling both hawk and sparrow, perched atop her tent. She shifted carefully, searching for its eyes in the moonlight… was it a hawk? Was it asleep?

She cleared her throat softly.

Another, much larger raptor flew to the tent top and kicked the smaller bird away. This raptor was clearly a falcon, but even after taking over the territory, it narrowed its small beady eyes in displeasure.

Ah, Wang Ge understood now: hawks too must sleep at night. The falcon trained by the Xie family surely recognized Xie Ju’s scent; wherever he slept, the falcon followed.

The next morning.

Xie Ju packed away the wooden gu, and Wang Ge sighed in relief, truly fearing to lose the antique that no fortune could compensate.

Master Zuo postponed the study of the Erya dictionary to first lead the students to Qinghe Manor’s grounds to hear Uncle Cai and Master Cai explain the Book of Songs.

What? Studying at Qinghe Manor? Sima Nandi, clad in threadbare clothes, grew anxious and ignored the master’s stern words, running back to the tent to change into fresh garments.

Master Zuo, stern and unaccustomed to her disobedience, immediately ordered the servants to drag Sima Nandi out. The child failed to change properly, her headscarf half hanging off, looking even more disheveled than before.

So, she walked with the group crying, while the other four-year-old disciples, already uneasy from waking early, also began to weep. Upon reaching Qinghe Manor’s grounds, Sima Nandi, with a runny nose, broke into a broad smile directed at Liu Bo, while the other simple children still cried.

Wang Ge frowned, puzzled that a girl barely five years old could truly be fond of a young man.

Xie Ju whispered, “The Sima disciple said she is the most handsome little lady in the world.”

Wang Ge nodded, indeed quite striking.

“So, her future husband must be the most handsome young man in the world.”

Reasonable, Wang Ge nodded again.

“She swore she will either marry Wang Tian, the son of the governor, or the prodigy Liu Bo.”

Wang Ge… well, evidently, it was not true love but a child’s judgment based on appearances. Her younger brother always tried to steal a glance at Liu Bo whenever he saw him—let alone the little lady.

Suppressing a smile, Xie Ju continued, “Wang Tian’s looks are said to be unmatched in the world, and he’s wild and unruly! The first time he met Sima Nandi, he demonstrated sword techniques, frightening her so much she coughed… and wet herself.”

“Oh dear, did Wang Tian get punished?”

“Oh yes. My father said that except from New Year’s Eve to the Lantern Festival, Wang Tian is beaten every day.”

At this moment, Master Cai began explaining the poem “Zi Jin” from the Book of Songs, one of the “Fifteen National Airs” in the Zheng style.

All the disciples sat upright and silent without needing to be told.

“‘Green, green is the collar—what is ‘collar’? The collar is the crossed lapel, connected under the collar, thus the collar is called ‘jin.’ The green collar is the green lapel, the attire of scholars. However, the words ‘green, green’ cannot be explained simply by the green collar or lapel…”

Wang Ge truly regretted not bringing bamboo slips and carving knives; Xie Ju lightly tapped his temple, signaling he had memorized it all.

After an hour of listening, Master Cai paused.

Master Zuo said, “All disciples, if you encounter any doubts in your studies, feel free to ask the senior university brothers. Go now; in half an hour, follow me back.”

Sima Nandi, like a rabbit freed from a cage, was the first to run to Liu Bo’s side. She deliberately widened her eyes so much that small wrinkles appeared on her brow. “Senior brother, I have a question.”

“*Cough*,” Liu Bo pointed to his throat.

The Meng disciple beside him explained, “Liu brother caught a cold yesterday and lost his voice. If the younger sister has questions, I will answer on his behalf.”

Sili Colonel: an ancient official title, formerly known as “Crouching Tiger.” This officer supervised the capital and surrounding officials. During Emperor Wu of Han’s reign, thirteen provinces were established, each with inspectors and Sili Colonels. The Western Jin continued this system but abolished the position after crossing the Yangtze.

(End of chapter)