Chapter 23: The Romantic Scholar and His Perfect Match

Page 1 of 3

In this life, eight or nine out of ten things seldom go as one wishes. More often than not, circumstances defy desire, and one's strength is insufficient to turn the tide—just as Yang Yanlang wished for Zhong Ming to return with him to the Commandant’s residence.

But when the evening banquet drew to a close, Yang Yanlang’s wish remained unfulfilled.

The general, his hunger and thirst sated yet unable to persuade the young man, could only shake his head with a sigh as he prepared to depart.

The raucous Yuni Village had returned to tranquility. The men busied themselves clearing the tables, the women gathered dishes and utensils. Though all were at work, their faces brimmed with joy.

Mr. Zhong had secured fertile fields for Yuni Village—who among them was not secretly delighted?

At the village entrance, Zhong Ming bade farewell to Yang Yanlang on horseback. “Uncle, take care on your journey.”

The general waved, smiling. “Go on home then. I am the Commandant of Zhiguo, the greatest general on the frontier. What bandit, out of his mind, would dare lay a hand on me?”

Yang Yanlang’s words brought a hint of embarrassment to Zhong Ming. Amid his awkward laughter, the general led the Scaled Cavalry away.

One remained behind, however—the captain of the Scaled Cavalry, Sun Longhu.

Sun Longhu had just returned to his homeland, and Yang Yanlang had granted him two days’ leave to visit his family. For the next two days, Captain Sun would not be required at his post, but could remain at home with his aging father.

The general, a man of both reason and deep feeling, had granted this leave as was only right.

Now Sun Longhu held the post of Left Captain in the Scaled Cavalry, an eighth-rank official, among the general’s most trusted men. By custom, Zhong Ming owed him respect and said, “Captain Sun, my uncle has gone. Why don’t we return as well?”

Sun Longhu withdrew his gaze and turned to the youth with a smile. “Young Master Zhong, your calling me Captain Sun is too great an honor. Now that you are the Commandant’s own nephew, how could I accept such a title from you?”

Clearly, Sun Longhu had spent long years in the military and was no longer the simple youth who left the village; his words, though friendly, bore a touch of officialdom.

Zhong Ming smiled and gestured for Sun Longhu to go first, but Sun Longhu raised his hand. “Young master, please go ahead; it’s proper that I follow behind.”

Unable to argue further, Zhong Ming walked ahead with Captain Sun following. The youth still carried the Resonance Blade on his back—the general had left it with him before departing, returning the blade to its rightful owner.

“Brother Longhu,” Zhong Ming said, “we were childhood friends. If I call you captain and you call me young master, it feels distant. Why not call me Little Brother Zhong as you used to, and I’ll dare call you Brother Longhu again?”

The youth’s words held warmth, and Sun Longhu was visibly pleased. “Excellent! I think your suggestion is excellent, Little Brother Zhong!”

With their forms of address restored, the two no longer felt any distance between them, and with laughter and easy conversation, they returned to the village.

When they reached the Sun family’s courtyard, Zhong Ming lowered his voice. “Brother Longhu, I asked Liang Heizi to leave a jug of Green Bamboo Wine and a platter of pork ear for you and Uncle Sun in the house. Tonight, you two can drink and talk to your hearts’ content.”

The evening banquet had been served with yellow wine, but this Green Bamboo Wine cost three times as much—a sign of the youth’s thoughtfulness.

Whether the wine or the pork ear, Sun Longhu could easily afford them, but the gesture moved him. Flustered, he said, “Thank you, Little Brother Zhong. You’re too considerate.”

“There’s no need for thanks. Uncle Sun has always looked after my mother and me—he’s seen me grow up. I’m half a son to him, so this is just my way of showing respect.”

With those words, the two drew even closer. Sun Longhu even said, “You truly are my Little Brother Zhong. By this reckoning, we might as well be real brothers.”

After a hearty laugh, Sun Longhu lowered his voice and whispered, “If ever you have something you can’t say to the Commandant, tell me, and I’ll see to it.”

At that, both burst into laughter.

In this border town, aside from the seventh-rank County Magistrate He and his own Commandant uncle, only Captain Sun, an eighth-rank official, could be relied upon.

With a single jar of Green Bamboo Wine, Zhong Ming gained a devoted captain as a brother—he was truly delighted.

Page 2 of 3

Seeing that their conversation had run its course, Sun Longhu said, “I’ll head in now, little brother. See you tomorrow.”

The youth quickly clasped his hands in farewell, and the two parted before the Sun family courtyard.

There were few people left inside the Sun family’s fenced yard, only a handful of women helping old Sun tidy up. Sun Luolian was among them.

The young girl seemed to be waiting for Zhong Ming’s return. When she saw him talking with Sun Longhu at the gate, she kept a blank face, but inside she was anxious. As soon as Sun Longhu entered, she hurriedly slipped out, her dainty feet moving quickly to catch up with Zhong Ming.

He was walking at a leisurely pace, so she caught up in a few brisk steps.

“Brother Zhong, wait!” she called, reaching out to stop him.

He turned, surprised to see her. “Little Lian, what is it?”

Blushing, she shyly produced a plain linen handkerchief from her sleeve and held it out to him. “Brother Zhong, this is for you.”

Puzzled, he accepted the handkerchief and opened it to find half a piece of crisp cake.

He laughed softly. “What does this mean, Little Lian?”

The girl misunderstood, thinking he was asking why there was only half a piece. Her cheeks reddened further as she fidgeted with her sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Da Chi gave me a piece of crisp cake today. He brought it wrapped in a fresh lotus leaf. I remembered you hadn’t tasted it, so I wanted to save it for you. But... I couldn’t help myself. It smelled so sweet, I ate half of it.”

“This half is for you, Brother Zhong.”

Her sincerity left him unable to laugh. Tenderly, he picked up the cake; it was still warm, likely from being held in her hands. Such a treat was a rare delight for her, yet she had saved half for him—what a kind-hearted girl she was.

In the dim light by the fence, the youth and maiden stood facing each other.

His gaze was gentle, lingering on the cake in his hand, some chord in his heart quietly plucked.

She stood shy and lovely, head bowed, toe scuffing nervously at the earth.

At such an age of innocence, emotion is conveyed in the simplest, purest ways.

He placed the cake back in the handkerchief and held it out to her. “I’ve already eaten; you keep this half for yourself.”

But she persisted, pushing his hand back. “I saved it especially for you, Brother Zhong.”

Seeing her so determined, he could only accept. He placed the half-cake in his mouth, chewed it slowly, and swallowed.

When he had finished, her face blossomed with a smile. Covering her mouth, she asked, “Brother Zhong, doesn’t my osmanthus cake taste sweeter than any other?”

He nodded, unable to speak.

In truth, he wanted to cough, but forced it down. The cake was so sweet it caught in his throat; eating half at once left his throat aching with sweetness.

Afterwards, he tried to return the handkerchief, but she pushed it back again, shyly saying, “Brother Zhong, the handkerchief is for you too.”

He looked down at it. Two little green ducks were embroidered on the cloth—clearly a keepsake from her chamber.

“This handkerchief, with its little ducks, is a personal item. I can’t accept it so casually,” he said.

He looked closer. What could the embroidered ducks mean?

He was still puzzling over it when her face clouded, hurt and a little angry. “Those aren’t ducks, they’re a pair of mandarin ducks!”

Page 3 of 3

“Mandarin ducks? They’re rather plump, aren’t they?” he replied, astonished, staring at the two fat, round, green mandarin ducks, their bodies squat and beaked, looking nothing like the real thing.

The girl stamped her foot in vexation and pointed at him. “Brother Zhong, you blockhead! I’ll never speak to you again!”

With a huff, she ran back into the yard, her departure stirring laughter among the watching women.

Though the embroidery was clumsy, it was not without charm. Sun Luolian had never had a chance to learn fine needlework, and it was no small feat to pick up the basics from village women. Those “fat ducks” had likely been stitched and unstitched through many a secret night, her fingertips pricked dozens of times before they were finished.

Handkerchief in hand, the youth gazed at the Sun family’s house and thought to himself, “What a mess!”

Even if Zhong Ming were slow, he was no fool. With a pair of embroidered mandarin ducks given so openly, how could he not sense her feelings?

But as Sun Luolian had already gone, he could not chase her down to return the handkerchief—he would only break her heart.

Yet he had no mind to marry, and did not wish to keep her handkerchief, lest he string her along.

Think as he might, no good solution came to him. He could only tell himself, “Hold on to it for now. When the time is right, I’ll explain everything to her clearly.”

Carefully tucking the handkerchief away, he adjusted the strap of the Resonance Blade on his shoulder, sighed, and walked home.

Now the youth tasted the flavor of sorrow, longing to speak but holding back, saying only, “What a fine autumn, cool and clear.”

Along the way, he heard little but whispers about the division of the new fields.

No doubt, in the days ahead, the rich land east of town would be the talk of Yuni Village at every meal.

When he reached the railing by his door, he could hear the snores of his neighbor Liang Yu—loud as thunder, as always.

Liang Yu had three faults, as Zhong Ming often said: dark skin, smelly feet, and earth-shaking snores.

Even the rooster, Iron General, had taken to sleeping on the low wall, apparently driven out by its master’s snoring, looking most disgruntled.

Though it ought to have been a beautiful night, with bright stars and a crescent moon, the snores ruined all sense of peace.

Shaking his head and digging at his ears, Zhong Ming entered his house and shut the door, finally finding a little quiet.

He sat down, caught his breath, and poured himself a bowl of cool tea—the cheapest blend from the city, “Starry Sky,” meant for poor scholars like himself.

For him, drinking tea was no affectation; there was so little flavor in village life, a cup of tea was just a way to bring a little taste to his mouth.

After tea, he unfastened the Resonance Blade and set it on the table. Though he had just acquired this peerless weapon and should have admired it, he had no time—the matter at hand was more urgent: opening the Stone-locked Mandarin Ducks.

Now that he held the Dragon-Phoenix Key, and the Stone-locked Mandarin Ducks had been deliberately returned by Old Mountain Chief, it was clear there was some fate that brought these two treasures into his hands.

What secret did the Stone-locked Mandarin Ducks hold? That was the question burning in the youth’s heart.