Chapter 28: Ripples Turn by the Bridge, Casting Shadows on the Azure Waves; A Lonely Gaze Down the Old Street, Lost in Wandering Thoughts

"Are the books of the sages truly meant for the country, or for the people?"

Twilight crept into the study, painting the loquats on the tree outside the window with a rich, ripe orange hue. Cheng Heng murmured to the group of students before him, not expecting a proper reply. After a moment, as the wind stirred and shadows shifted, he chose to answer his own question, defining the sentiment from the perspective of a man from a later age.

"Ah... everyone has their own path and mission. It is not necessarily true that one must become an official to truly serve the country and the people."

The students gradually dispersed. Perhaps only Cheng Heng knew for whom those words were truly intended. Straightening his robes, he paced out of the study and looked at the loquat tree, which had climbed so high it stood level with the garden wall, and even loomed slightly over it. Suddenly, a line surfaced in his mind: "There is a loquat tree in the courtyard, planted by my own hands the year my wife passed away."

Perhaps it was the melancholy of the setting sun weighing on his heart, but Cheng Heng felt a sudden urge to escape the loneliness of the vast, empty courtyard. Seeking the comfort of a crowd, he followed the flow of people until he reached a bustling main street.

"Who doesn't know the Ruan family's great philanthropist? But tell me, does being a great philanthropist always lead to a good reward?"

The Ruan family? Could it be Ruan Bi's family? Cheng Heng, wandering aimlessly, focused his ears on the conversation of the passersby, only to hear words that were unexpected yet entirely logical.

"Borrowing money from others to subsidize strangers, and now, unable to pay back the debts—this isn't kindness. It's clear he didn't know his own limitations. How can this be called kindness?" The person being asked, for some reason, bristled as if his tail had been stepped on, and began to mock the great philanthropist Ruan. "It’s pure stupidity!"

Stupid? In what way? Even if he sold his family assets and borrowed from others, it was clearly to help those in need, yet he did not anticipate that those with ill intent would exploit his benevolence. Cheng Heng felt it was a tragedy for such a man.

Turning the thought inward, he asked himself if he regretted taking on that screenwriting project back then. Cheng Heng felt that even if he could return to the past with his memories intact, he would not regret any of his choices—a life lived with a clear conscience is a life well-lived.

"Why do you say that? I recall back then you..."

"What? You aren't suspecting me of not paying back the money, are you?" The second speaker lifted the paper parcel in his hand. "I’m not so devoid of conscience as that... It’s just that too much of a good thing is bad. A handful of rice brings gratitude, but a bushel brings hatred. It’s simply stupidity!"

"You don't know, but by his generation, the Ruan family had enough wealth accumulated that he could have easily groomed his son into a proper scholar! It’s not that being a merchant is bad, but in the end, it is looked down upon by outsiders."

"And now? I heard from his neighbor that he can no longer afford the private school; he plans to have his son study medicine... Medicine is a bitter path!"

Studying medicine? Cheng Heng recalled the research he had done for his script, remembering the details from the history of Ruan Bi—was it truly a case of repeated failures in the examinations, or was the family fortune simply insufficient to support his studies?

"How can this not be considered ruining the foundation of his family?"

"It was his own choice in the end; no one else is to blame."

Feeling a mix of helplessness and cynicism, a thought suddenly struck Cheng Heng: he wanted to wait until Ruan Bi's father came to bid farewell, and keep the boy there.

"Could it be that my own words made him think I was driving him away because the Ruan family couldn't afford the tuition?" Cheng Heng wondered if his appearance was, in fact, a predestined link in history.

Night fell, inviting the dreamer back. This time, it was not just Cheng Heng who hoped to see the other; after the previous encounter, Guan Yin realized that the "series of sets" mentioned by the former seemed to carry significant weight, perhaps even being essential to her own survival in this era.

"You..." Silence followed their simultaneous speech. This time, Cheng Heng did not bother with "ladies first." His shifting perspective on history made him eager to speak.

"I think, what if we are actually a part of history itself?"

"Impossible," Guan Yin replied, sharp and absolute.

"If—I mean, if—we are part of history, then doesn't that mean everything we do isn't..."

"I said it, it's impossible," Guan Yin sighed. "Though I don't know why you traveled into a real historical era, I can guarantee that any unwarranted changes to history should not exist."

"You must realize that there is no trace of any 'modern person' having existed in the future."

Cheng Heng did not agree with Guan Yin's view. "Many people say Wang Mang was a time traveler. Furthermore, there's that book from the end of the Qing Dynasty that envisioned the future—it bears so many similarities to the present. Could it not be that someone from the present traveled to the ancient past and left it behind specifically to avoid being exposed?"

"Are you talking about Lu Shi'e?" Guan Yin sighed. She worried the boy had been reading too many sensationalist articles; between Wang Mang and Lu Shi'e, he really ought to read some proper history.

"Otherwise?"

Guan Yin suddenly lost the desire to debate with Cheng Heng. After some thought, she settled on an argument she believed would resonate with him. "If you put it that way, were Tang Xianzu and Cao Xueqin also time travelers?"

"What if those pieces of evidence were all corrected by history?" Cheng Heng's idea was bold, leaving Guan Yin momentarily stunned.

"Corrected?"

"I mean, if there is no evidence of travelers in the future, yet so many literary works were written and rewritten, is it possible that all our actions are being corrected by history into a logical form?" He was a screenwriter, after all; Cheng Heng’s thoughts were always unfettered. "Doesn't that just mean that nothing we do will impact history?"

"Or, if we simply traveled to a parallel world, what does that have to do with history? Shouldn't we just do whatever we want?"

The rapid-fire output left Guan Yin no time to think.

"If one could really travel through time, wouldn't many people want to go back to times of national crisis and bring cannons and airplanes with them?"

Cheng Heng's words left Guan Yin even more bewildered. "But that's impossible. So many sacrifices were..."

"Exactly, it's impossible."

"So admit it, the world we traveled to might not belong to our own history at all. If we hold the script, why can't we act for the sake of justice and ensure that good is rewarded and evil is punished?" Cheng Heng harbored a drive for justice and absolute fairness—a fixation that had accumulated from his school days into society.

"But..." Have you ever considered whether the fairness and justice you perceive will necessarily bring about the best outcome? Unlike Cheng Heng’s desire to break things to rebuild them, Guan Yin’s life was, as she had grown accustomed to, stable and orderly.

The dream ended, and Cheng Heng did not hear the rest of Guan Yin's words. He was thinking: Ruan Bi had the acumen to benefit the region through trade; if he were placed in the officialdom, combined with the influence of his philanthropic father, he would surely become a magistrate revered by the people.

Those who owed money to the Ruan family would naturally return what was due—good people, after all, should get their wishes fulfilled.