Master’s wife pressed him again. “Did you hear that? The boy is worried about your health! Xiao Ci, tell everyone here that whoever reports my husband drinking out there, I’ll give them a piece of calligraphy!”
“Ahhh!”
Her message had been delivered loud and clear. Before Master Yang could let out another anguished cry, Pei Cizhou turned off the speakerphone and held the phone to his ear. “Don’t worry. Everyone understands your good intentions. We’ll be sure to keep an eye on him.”
The call ended.
He looked at Tian Yuan with an expression of helplessness. “Actually, I was just about to ask Master for confirmation. You hung up far too quickly—you didn’t even give me a chance.”
After witnessing that family drama, everyone fell silent.
They all knew that Old Yang was a henpecked husband, but no one had expected his position in the family to be quite so low.
Tian Yuan was even more dumbfounded.
Wait. Hadn’t Old Yang personally admitted that he didn’t have a disciple named Pei Cizhou? Could it be that Old Yang and Pei Cizhou had teamed up to mess with him?
Only then did Pei Cizhou casually explain, “When I became his disciple, I didn’t want Master to know who I really was and give me special treatment, so I used the name Zhou Ci. I’ve been studying calligraphy under him all these years.”
Cizhou.
Zhou Ci.
He had actually become a renowned calligrapher’s final disciple entirely through his own efforts, without relying on his family?
Everyone was filled with admiration. Several of the older guests praised him repeatedly. “Young Pei is humble, steady, and possesses such character! You’re sure to achieve great things in the future.”
Pei Cizhou replied modestly, “You’re all too kind, uncles. I simply wanted to study and practice calligraphy in peace. If Uncle Liao hadn’t recognized the handwriting on the couplet at home, I never would have planned to make it public.”
The elders nodded one after another.
What a fine young man—uninterested in fame or fortune, driven solely by his love of art. In this restless, fame-seeking society, that was truly rare.
And then there was the other one…
Everyone could hardly bear to look.
He was impulsive and careless, refusing to listen to anyone’s explanations or seek confirmation. He had hurriedly called someone, then hurriedly hung up.
Tsk.
With a son like that, the Tian family could only decline little by little from here on out.
Everyone gathered around Pei Cizhou, hoping to see him write a piece of calligraphy on the spot.
When she saw everyone heading toward the pavilion, Qiuyun came to Tian Yuan’s side. He was hanging his head in dejection.
She sighed. “From now on, try to stay away from him as much as possible. Don’t provoke him. Why go looking for trouble?”
She had meant it as a kind warning, but Tian Yuan raised his head and glared at her. “What’s it to you? I just can’t stand him!”
He stormed off, nearly knocking his shoulder into Qiuyun’s.
Fine!
No wonder he had been getting himself into trouble since childhood.
He couldn’t even tell good advice from bad. Her faint sympathy for him had been completely wasted.
The farce in the courtyard was naturally relayed to the second floor without missing a detail.
Yu Wenchuan asked his close friend, “Which side do you think the Young Master Pei will take—the reformists or the conservatives?”
Old Master Chen pondered before answering, “The reformists. The young man is interesting, and he’s clever.”
Yu Wenchuan said, “Then I’ll bet on the conservatives.”
“Hey, do you feel uncomfortable if you go even one day without contradicting me?”
“I’m serious. That’s genuinely what I think.”
“A young man with such spirit and talent, with limitless prospects ahead of him—wouldn’t he want to accomplish something?”
Yu Wenchuan chuckled. “You don’t know, do you? The Young Master Pei secretly opened a gaming company behind his parents’ backs. Do you really think he wants to pursue a career in government?”
Old Master Chen fell silent. “If he can understand the purpose behind our literary gathering, then perhaps you really will win your bet.”
“Just wait and see.” Yu Wenchuan lifted his teacup with a chuckle. “Young people have minds of their own these days.”
Downstairs, people gradually entered the side rooms to write down their positions and arguments. The gathering had split into two camps.
One reformist wrote:
“Everyone says that a person’s handwriting reflects their character. I say it reflects the system of their time! Ancient scholars wrote rigid examination essays and formal, standardized script, emphasizing straight lines, strict structure, and adherence to rules. But times have changed. Young people rarely even write with a pen anymore, let alone a brush! Calligraphy is now more like an art form. It has a threshold for entry and is no longer suited to the general public.”
A conservative countered:
“But calligraphy isn’t merely an art. It is also the foundation and spirit of an entire nation! When Yan Zhenqing wrote the Draft of the Requiem to My Nephew, it embodied national tragedy, blood, and tears. Yet you dismiss it as an art with a threshold for entry, draining the soul from our culture. That is utterly arbitrary! Innovation doesn’t mean smashing all our ancestors’ memorial tablets. It means allowing new branches to grow from old roots!”
The two sides exchanged blows, each argument met with another. Qiuyun and Pei Cizhou stood a little farther back.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Pei Cizhou leaned against the stone railing of the pavilion. “I’m thinking about making a run for it.”
“Hm?”
He sighed. “Now I understand why my family takes this gathering so seriously.”
It was only because he had been preoccupied with Miss Qiu at the time, treating the literary gathering like a spring outing, that he hadn’t given the matter much thought.
Qiuyun asked, “Which side do you think Mr. Wenchuan supports?”
“The reformists.”
“You’re that certain?”
“It’s not certainty. It’s simply the inevitable course of things. The only constant in this world is change itself.”
Qiuyun understood.
That was indeed the truth.
“You two.” Secretary Liang walked over. “Haven’t you decided what to write yet?”
Qiuyun asked, “Uh… Is this question something everyone has to answer?”
Secretary Liang smiled sweetly. “Not necessarily. But since the two of you were personally invited by Mr. Wenchuan, it wouldn’t do to leave without writing even a single word, would it?”
“…”
Fine.
Qiuyun and Pei Cizhou passed through the moon gate and entered the side rooms, each choosing an empty one.
The ink had already been ground. Standing before the desk, Qiuyun briefly wrote down her thoughts on the paper.
By the time she came back out, the debate outside had escalated into a discussion of whether art was necessary for survival, and whether ordinary people struggling to earn enough for a loaf of bread truly needed to appreciate or study art.
Qiuyun listened for a moment. Clearly, the discussion had veered off topic.
Pei Cizhou also finished writing and came out with a yawn. “There probably isn’t much left to do. Shall we take a walk around the gardens?”
Qiuyun asked, “It’s almost five. Does this place provide dinner?”
Standing and writing had taken more energy than she expected.
“There should at least be refreshments, right?” Pei Cizhou looked around. “Let’s go see.”
“Let’s.”
The two of them were strolling around while eating when the essays were judged.
To everyone’s surprise, Qiuyun had taken first place among the reformists, while Pei Cizhou had taken first place among the conservatives.
What?
Qiuyun was astonished.
He clearly knew what Mr. Wenchuan preferred, so why had he deliberately written against him?
Then she thought about it.
His parents had grounded him for five months simply because he had opened a gaming company. If he really won Mr. Wenchuan’s favor and received his encouragement, wouldn’t that only make him even more unruly in the future?
Secretary Liang posted both their essays for everyone to see. Pei Cizhou ignored the comments on his own and went straight to read Miss Qiu’s excellent piece.
—
“When we look at history, we always feel that the ancients were conservative while modern people are innovative. But in truth, the ancients were also modern people in their own time, and modern people will likewise become the ancients of the future.
“Wang Xizhi was the greatest innovator of his era. He broke away from the conventions of clerical script and created running script that flowed as freely as clouds and water. People of his time accused him of defying tradition and breaking with convention. Yet by the Tang dynasty, his calligraphy had become the new conservatism—the standard no one dared to surpass.”
