Xie Yunzhou set down the Huzhou brush in his hand and, with a hint of disdain, picked up the copy of The Butterfly Lovers with two fingers.
"Hmph, deliberately mystifying."
He gave a cold snort, leaned back into his armchair, and assumed the posture of a judge examining a prisoner as he flipped open the first page.
Chapter One: Sworn Brotherhood at the Grass Bridge
His eyes fell upon the striking font, but Xie Yunzhou merely glanced at it and curled his lip.
"Mediocre writing, a mere piling up of flowery rhetoric, completely lacking in classical elegance."
This was his evaluation of the opening.
The beginning of the story was nothing more than Zhu Yingtai disguising herself as a man to go study. Such plot devices had been used to death in old vernacular tales.
"Cliche."
Xie Yunzhou shook his head, his fingers flipping rapidly as he skimmed ten lines at a glance.
In his mind, he was already formulating how he would reprimand his younger sister later: "Look at this plot, it has no logic whatsoever. A woman dressing as a man to sneak into an academy, how could she not be discovered? It treats the academy of sages like child's play!"
However.
When his fingers turned to Chapter Three: Three Years as Classmates, his page-turning speed unknowingly slowed down.
The writing in this book seemed to have changed.
It was no longer that straightforward narrative, but was interspersed with extensive psychological descriptions and delicate, everyday details.
How did that fellow Xu Zijin manage to write about academy life so realistically?
The swaying of heads during morning readings, the knowing smiles exchanged while grinding ink, the scenes of arguing until their faces turned red over an allusion in the library pavilion.
Wasn't this exactly like his days at the Imperial Academy?
"Huh?"
Xie Yunzhou sat up straight, uncrossing his previously resting legs.
He read about Liang Shanbo waking up before dawn to sweep the classroom just to save a seat for Zhu Yingtai, only to be misunderstood and punished to stand by the teacher, yet still foolishly handing Zhu Yingtai a hot steamed bun.
"Idiot."
Xie Yunzhou cursed, but the corners of his mouth unconsciously turned up.
His classmates back in the day seemed to have done such foolish things too.
Unknowingly, the stick of agarwood had burned past its halfway point.
The study was so quiet that only the occasional rustle of turning pages could be heard.
Xie Yunzhou's posture had shifted from leaning against the back of his chair at the very beginning to now leaning forward over the desk.
His eyes drew closer and closer to the pages, and his brows furrowed tighter and tighter. But it was no longer out of disgust; rather, it was a burning anxiety born of deep immersion.
Chapter Ten: The Eighteen Miles Send-off
"This blockhead! She has made it so obvious! Look at the well ahead, two reflections at the bottom, isn't that hinting at being a couple?"
Xie Yunzhou could not help but mutter curses under his breath.
He had completely forgotten that just a moment ago he was going to criticize this book as a collection of lewd songs and romantic drivel.
At this moment, he only wished he could dive into the book, grab that elm-headed Liang Shanbo, and shake him: bring out that cleverness you use to study the sages' books!
"Sigh..."
A long sigh.
Xie Yunzhou picked up the teacup beside him to moisten his throat, only realizing when it reached his lips that it had long gone cold.
But he did not care at all. He tipped his head back and drained it in one gulp, only feeling a blockage in his throat, unbearably bitter.
Because the plot took a sudden downturn.
Ma Wencai appeared.
That son of Prefect Ma, who relied on his power to bully others and take things by force, forcefully tore apart these two lovers.
The fingers Xie Yunzhou used to grip the scroll tightened suddenly, his knuckles turning white from the force, creasing the Xuan paper pages.
"Outrageous... absolutely outrageous!"
His chest heaved violently, his eyes full of anger.
"In this world... can the word power truly crush a person to death?"
He thought of his classmates at the Imperial Academy, who, despite their brilliance, were ostracized by the children of nobility because of their humble origins.
He thought of his own helplessness, having to bow his head before higher-ranking nobles despite being born into a prominent family himself.
A strong wave of resonance surged forth, instantly drowning all his rationality.
How was this merely a tale of romantic love?
This was clearly an exhaustive depiction of the fickleness of human nature! An exhaustive depiction of the blood and tears of poor scholars!
"Xu Zijin..."
Xie Yunzhou murmured to himself, all his previous contempt gone.
"You fellow, you truly possess a brilliant and sensitive heart..."
The sky gradually darkened.
The setting sun outside the window was swallowed up, and the light in the room grew dim, leaving only a faint reflection on the desk.
But Xie Yunzhou remained entirely oblivious.
He leaned close to the book, his eyes red, unsure if it was from reading too long or for some other reason.
Finally.
He turned to the last chapter.
Meeting at the Tower and Crying at the Grave
The writing here became very concise, every sentence carrying blood and tears.
"Brother Liang... since we could not share a bed in life, we shall share a grave in death..."
As Xie Yunzhou looked at those lines of text, the image of that foolish scholar dragging his sick body, coughing up blood with every step just to see his beloved one last time, surfaced in his mind.
The images overlapped.
He seemed to see himself.
If it were him, encountering such a deeply affectionate woman, facing such desperate obstacles...
Pat.
A slight noise.
In this silent study, it sounded exceptionally clear.
A drop of water, without any warning, slid down Xie Yunzhou's cheek and smashed onto the rosewood desk.
On that smooth surface, it splashed into a tiny water flower.
Xie Yunzhou froze.
He reached out a hand in bewilderment and touched the corner of his eye.
Wet.
He... was crying?
He, a dignified grown man, a top student of the Imperial Academy, was actually shedding tears over a common vernacular tale, over a fictional poor scholar?
"Absurd... simply absurd..."
Xie Yunzhou cursed under his breath, but the tears would not stop falling.
It was a depression that had been pent up in his heart for years, a grievance of being bound by etiquette for twenty years, all venting out at this moment through the story of others.
Too bitter.
This Liang Shanbo suffered too much.
This world was too bitter.
Just as Xie Yunzhou was immersed in immense sorrow, even feeling the urge to bury his head on the desk and weep bitterly.
Knock, knock, knock.
A flurry of urgent knocking suddenly echoed, exploding by his ear.
"Eldest Young Master, dinner is ready. Madam asks if you will eat in the main hall, or should I bring it in for you?"
It was the voice of his personal servant boy, Ah Fu.
Xie Yunzhou shuddered all over, instantly pulling himself out of that tragic world.
At this moment, his reaction speed was astonishingly fast.
He abruptly straightened his back, wiped his face haphazardly with his sleeve, and erased the tear stains.
Then, his hand, which normally held a brush with steady grace, now carried a bit of panic as he grabbed that copy of The Butterfly Lovers.
His gaze quickly swept across the desk.
Where could he hide it?
Nowhere was safe!
Finally, gritting his teeth, he shoved the silk-bound book right to the bottom of a stack of books.
Then he quickly pulled out a copy of the Spring and Autumn Annals from the top, spread it open to cover it, and grabbed a copy of the Book of Rites to press it down.
After doing all this, he took a deep breath, adjusted his sitting posture, and tried his best to make his voice sound as majestic and cold as usual.
"No need."
"I... have heavy studies today, there is no need to eat."
"You may withdraw."
Outside the door, Ah Fu was taken aback. His young master usually valued health preservation the most, so why was he skipping meals today?
But he did not dare to ask further, only acknowledging with a yes before turning to leave.
Listening to the footsteps fading away.
Xie Yunzhou slumped back into his chair.
He stared blankly at that stack of sage books he had pressed down so tightly.
A long while passed.
Only then did he slowly reach out, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled out the copy of The Butterfly Lovers buried at the very bottom.
He gently stroked the butterfly on the cover.
His gaze was filled with a profound, unspoken complexity.
