Chapter 6: A Winding Path Amidst Little Fences, Daytime Flowers Intoxicated; Mountains Distant, Roads Long, No Return by Night

The pine trees swayed in the rain, the scent of orchids mingled with the sleeping butterflies among the camellias. Rain falling and soaking one’s clothes usually brings discomfort, yet fortunately, the drizzle in Huizhou was fine and delicate, like strands of hair lightly brushing the skin.

“Why is it raining?” The sudden downpour caught Guan Yin off guard. She looked up, then down, and realized she had unknowingly taken shelter beneath the eaves.

A commotion rose in the alleyway. Guan Yin thought perhaps someone was calling out for a person and frowned, following the sound. Shops along the street were hurriedly gathering their goods indoors.

“The master said, when it rains, we should return early,” a child darted into Guan Yin’s line of sight. Following the direction of the child’s hurried steps, her gaze met the mother waiting at the door.

“Madam Ping’an, the master these past few days… seems a little off,” the child said.

“How so?” Hearing the young servant’s words, Madam Ping’an ushered the child inside first. “The master hasn’t assigned any lessons lately. Could it be that he’s fallen ill?”

“If that’s the case, when the eldest young master returns, we should prepare some nourishing remedies and have him visit the master with the young master.”

“Madam, I don’t think the master is sick. It’s just… these days he’s been preoccupied with something. I can’t quite understand it, but it’s definitely not the usual lessons the young master recites.”

Madam Ping’an finally sensed something was amiss. Seeing the servant’s hesitation, she responded with understanding, “Speak freely. You won’t be blamed for anything as you serve the young master’s education.”

Despite Madam Ping’an’s reassurances, the child still hesitated.

Respecting teachers and honoring tradition was a value held by all in the village, regardless of wealth or poverty.

Moreover, as the young master’s own attendant, the child was also a student of the master — a disciple in many ways. The books taught, “A child does not disdain a father’s faults,” and “Never deceive your teacher or betray your ancestors.”

“Madam, this…” The child faltered.

Seeing the boy’s reluctance, Madam Ping’an half-closed the door, signaling him to speak without fear.

“The master’s behavior these past few days has been somewhat absurd,” the voice came softly through the crack, floating clearly to Guan Yin’s ears.

“What do you mean by absurd? What absurd things could the master be doing at this time?” Guan Yin wondered silently.

Judging by the children’s long braids, the period seemed to be the Qing dynasty. Guan Yin was relieved that her knowledge of history was solid enough not to be easily exposed in any known era.

Could it be the era of the queue-cutting decree? Or perhaps the master was contemplating something akin to constitutional monarchy… She pondered the possibilities.

“The master has been playing at house with the students, even having them pretend to be commoners and peddlers. I don’t know the reason,” the child continued cautiously, “He even taught some lewd songs and verses to…”

“Lewd songs and verses?”

What could count as lewd in these times? The “Romance of the Western Chamber” was unavoidable…

“Lewd songs and verses?” Madam Ping’an suddenly realized her exclamation and immediately covered her mouth.

Regaining composure, she glared at the boy standing before her. “Do you know what you’re saying? Are you not slandering the master’s reputation?”

“‘Gui Xiang Garden, pure hearts only invited. Apricot banquet by imperial grace, the dishonored cannot attend.’ Many scholars believe in both Confucianism and the divine. This verse was a gift from my father to the two young masters. I present it now to prove the master’s innocence.”

Seeing Madam Ping’an’s anger, the boy gave up his hesitation and blurted out in frustration, “The master may even harbor rebellious intentions.”

“The master delivered a discourse, seemingly about the current dynasty’s conquest after entering the pass…”

“Slap!” Madam Ping’an’s palm struck the boy’s face sharply. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

The slap stunned the boy, who trembled with tears and stammered, “M-Madam, every word I spoke is true.”

“Do you know such words could cost someone their head?”

Having already struck, Madam Ping’an regretted it somewhat. The boy was still someone’s child. Yet, without giving him a way out or apologizing, she frowned and added, “I will investigate this matter thoroughly. From now on, do not speak carelessly about things you cannot be certain of.”

“Yes, madam.”

“But there was one phrase…”

“‘Spring breeze on the Shangsi Festival, peach petals light as scissors.’”

If one hadn’t read it, how could they know these were lines from forbidden books?

“Dream of the Red Chamber” portrayed girls and Baoyu, both watched and shunned, revealing that in different times and places, there were always those who sought to approach things that were not inherently wrong.

Just as many parents’ so-called “internet novels” were once considered taboo, yet unconsciously became a seasoning in their lives — Guan Yin thought as much.

Curious how she could hear so clearly from afar, she frowned and turned to see how she had ended up on the street, only to meet the gaze of a man.

“Why is the young lady here?”

Turning back, it was no longer Madam Ping’an’s home opposite her. Guan Yin didn’t find it strange this time, but the man before her seemed vaguely familiar.

“You’d best return early, young lady,” the man frowned. “Or are you a madam from some family with matters regarding the students to discuss with me?”

“I’m not,” Guan Yin replied, realizing this was likely the private school the two children had spoken of. Desks were scattered with unfinished lessons. “I just don’t know what the teacher usually teaches… Though I am a girl, I wish to study and take the imperial examinations.”

“Alas, you were born in the wrong era to take the exams,” the man responded quickly, not dismissing her outright but regret etched deeply between his brows. “Unmarried boys and unwed girls— for your own virtue’s sake, it’s best you leave early.”

“If others were to see us together, I fear…”

“You’ve read ‘Romance of the Western Chamber.’”

“What Western Chamber? What Western Chamber?”

Seeing the man’s caution, a mysterious thought stirred in Guan Yin’s mind but she held it back for now. “Perhaps I should say, ‘The Story of Cui Yingying Waiting for the Moon in the Western Chamber’?”

“And ‘The Peach Blossom Fan.’”

“You…”

Noticing the smile in Guan Yin’s eyes, the teacher glanced around and, finding no one nearby, opened the door and invited her in: “Please come inside and have a seat.”

Yet neither expected that the moment Guan Yin sat down, she would speak boldly and relentlessly.

“So, whether you study plays or directing, don’t tell me you don’t know history… or what these two works signify today.”

“Who are you?”

Indeed, this teacher was Cheng Heng.

At the moment Guan Yin realized the coincidence, a thought crossed her mind, recalling the director she had met on the bridge.

“The director on the phone,” she said, not revealing her own identity but naming the man before her.

“The teacher from the bridge.”

Now Cheng Heng was certain.