Chapter 16: A Bird Sighs at the Bamboo Cage's Snare; A Beauty is Abandoned at Dawn After a Spring Night

In this world, logic is easy to preach, but human affairs are the hardest to manage. Ever since the kitchen incident, Sanheng has been even more afraid to let her precious husband touch any housework—now that the Qingming Festival has passed, Liu Jiao’an no longer needs to go up the mountain to pick tea.

A half-cup of clear tea for leisure, yet with no talent or virtue to compose new verses? Fortunately, the reflection of pine shadows upon this ink-wash landscape of Jiangnan keeps Guan Yin from feeling completely bored while searching for a way back to reality.

"Is this story the beginning, or is it the story of that examinee grown old?"

"Everyone else has a system, knowing how to return to reality. Why is it that in my case, not even a memory is left?" People are always double-standard; at this moment, Guan Yin only thought of how to return to her own world, with no mood to dwell on the fact that the very act of transmigration defied all logic. "I suppose being a schoolteacher wouldn't have been so bad."

A gust of wind whistled, startling a flock of birds. Hearing the sound, Guan Yin looked out and saw Sanheng holding a slingshot, aiming at a spot not far ahead, likely targeting a bird that had strayed from the flock.

"Man Ting Fang? Featuring... the Guan ancestor." Seeing the name on the paper, Guan Yin was shocked by the boldness of her predecessor.

"Wind sends me to the blue clouds, the whip urges the evening path. When have the temple halls ever eased my sorrows? Clad in crimson robes, I hold up the towering mansion. Morning and night, I dare to write new songs; in all four seasons, I pray for the rivers to run clear. I hope only for my descendants to fill the ranks of office, to comfort my early-whitened head."

This is clearly the work of an elder returning to the countryside. One would assume the original official rank was quite high... Was the predecessor writing about her own father through this? Or was this someone else entirely?

Guan Yin recalled the words of Cheng Heng: "The writing is the author herself." Guan Yin was more inclined to believe that everything in this text held traces of the predecessor.

"Enter the Old Dan."

"Rao Di You."

"Returning to the garden to keep watch in silence, the night clock drips drop by drop. Sending my son away for a thousand miles, my robes are soaked with tears."

Looking at these words, Guan Yin suddenly realized that she might have made a huge mistake—was it truly reasonable to force this into the *qupai* (musical tune) she had assumed?

The script had already been handed over. No matter how anxious Guan Yin felt now, it was of little use. She could only continue reading the papers, trying to find something of value: "Meeting scene..."

The content in the middle was nothing special. After the Old Dan and the "Wai" (the male elder role) met, they simply reminisced. The couple lamented the ups and downs of their official careers, fortunate to have finally returned to the fields, escaping the suppression of treacherous officials to enjoy their remaining years.

The few students they had taught were like a breath of fresh air; they now served the country, occasionally sending letters back to thank the elderly couple and inquire about their young master—the couple’s child born in their old age.

"Sigh..." Guan Yin exhaled. The selfless devotion of those loyal to their sovereign and country never counted the cost. That is why generation after generation of predecessors, even knowing that to go was to face death, could still suppress their final fears with the phrase "willing to die."

"Following the previous tune."

"Enter the Sheng (male lead) holding a whip, performing the bowing gesture."

"Whipping my horse to travel far, I pray to knock upon the gates of Heaven. May the scholar also seek the vitality of the three springs!"

As the story reached this point, it was clear that the "Sheng" who had just appeared was the protagonist of this segment—the very child born to the couple in their old age. Guan Yin suddenly had an ominous thought. Her heart trembled, but she suppressed it for now.

"I urge the Heavens to shake themselves, to recruit talent without restraint." Suppressing the thought that the old couple might meet a bleak end, Guan Yin was inexplicably reminded of this line from the *Jihai Miscellaneous Poems*. It seemed that since ancient times, those with ideals never sought personal glory.

*May the world be filled with virtuous scholars, to comfort my heart and guard the rivers and mountains.* How vast a heart must one have to disregard personal loss, considering only the nation and its people? And how much courage is required, after encountering the darkness of the officialdom oneself, to dare to send one's only descendant into the path of service?

"Is the husband looking at the words he wrote earlier?" Sanheng, who had been standing outside the window, had approached at some point, holding a cup of tea that had already gone cold.

It seemed Guan Yin had been so immersed that she hadn't noticed Sanheng standing nearby for a while.

"Do you want to see?"

"The husband mocks me. Sanheng doesn't know many characters." As she spoke, Sanheng seemed at a loss, unsure whether to put down the cup or stay. "Um, husband, the tea is cold... Sanheng will go..."

Guan Yin reached out to stop her, stood up, pulled a small square stool in front of herself, and decided to recount the story to Sanheng.

Guan Yin naturally had her own selfish motives, hoping that Sanheng might have heard something about the predecessor.

"This story is about a young master surnamed Guan who goes to the capital for the imperial examinations. His parents see him off in the dead of night, recalling the past and worrying about the hardships their son might face, yet they resolutely let him go so that he may achieve success and serve the country."

People often say that the rhythm of traditional opera is slow, but these few hundred words of the opening had already made the background of two generations clear. Guan Yin no longer felt the story was slow—on the contrary, every sentence was filled with genuine emotion, every word written in blood, more compelling than any novel.

"Also surnamed Guan. Is he the husband's ancestor?" Sure enough, Sanheng’s questions began immediately. "So, does the husband have the same plan to go to the capital for the exams?"

Could it be that even Sanheng did not know her true identity? Yet, based on Liu Jiao’an's behavior these past few days, it was likely she knew the predecessor was a woman. Guan Yin began to hesitate, wanting to brush Sanheng off: "I still rely on the Madam to take care of me; how can I talk about national affairs until I can take care of myself?"

"That is true. Master Guan looks delicate, not as burly as other men. If you were to go to the court, how could you defeat those rough, burly men? Sanheng has heard that they are all as strong as oxen, with strength that can, strength that can..."

"Strength that can lift a cauldron?"

Sanheng's face flushed, but she smiled openly and honestly. "Yes, that is the word! Sanheng hasn't read many books; I don't even know as many characters as the Madam!"

"The court is not filled only with military generals." Guan Yin was amused by Sanheng’s open-mindedness, her train of thought drifting away from the predecessor's script. "Many civil officials are thin and frail. Otherwise, why would everyone be so shocked when stories of civil officials striking their heads against pillars to prove their loyalty are told?"

Guan Yin suddenly felt as if she were coaxing a child. Sanheng's words had been too absolute, and her own response was three parts truth and seven parts fabrication. Thinking of the Song Dynasty, where civil officials often led troops into battle, were they really all "too weak to truss a chicken"?

"Oh... hehe, Sanheng has never seen it. I only heard it from others."

"Sanheng has only seen the Old Master, and he doesn't look as frail as Master Guan."

The "Old Master" in Sanheng’s mouth was most likely Liu Jiao’an’s father. Guan Yin suddenly wanted to know what kind of person this "Old Master" really was.

"If the husband has nothing else, Sanheng will go to work... The pot lid was scorched black earlier, and I need to take it to the stream to scrub it."

Mentioning the kitchen made Guan Yin feel guilty. She could only nod, sitting back in her chair, and began to stare blankly at the ink and paper once more.