Not long after Liu Xiangyang arrived in Clay Bottle Alley, another rare visitor appeared—Zhao Yao, a refined young scholar in a green robe, whose mannerisms bore an uncanny resemblance to the revered teacher, Qi Jingchun. As the legitimate eldest grandson of one of the town's four great surnames, Zhao Yao stood in stark contrast to the likes of Lu Zhengchun and other idle scions of privilege. Though born into wealth himself, Zhao Yao had earned a sterling reputation; many of the town's elderly widows and solitary elders had benefited from his kindness. To claim this was a calculated attempt to gain prestige through benevolence, as the books might suggest, would be to misjudge his heart. Since the age of ten, his goodwill had never wavered—consistent, sincere, and free from pretense.
Even the elders of Fulush Street, who had watched the youth grow up, would proudly raise a thumb in his honor. Whenever they scolded their own children, Zhao Yao was inevitably held up as the paragon. This, however, left him with few intimate friends among his peers. The carefree crowd led by Lu Zhengchun had no fondness for bookish types who quoted Confucian classics at every turn. Picture them scaling walls to peep at a charming widow, only to be sternly reminded by Zhao Yao that propriety forbade such acts—what a buzzkill.
Thus, over the years, Zhao Yao preferred to mingle with people outside Fulush Street, wandering through nearly every alley and lane—save for one: Clay Bottle Alley. There lived Song Jixin, a peer who, more often than not, made Zhao Yao feel painfully inadequate. If he had to name a friend, it would be Song Jixin, his perennial chess rival. Despite always losing to him, Zhao Yao's desire to win had never dimmed—but neither had his admiration. Song Jixin's genius inspired genuine respect, though Zhao Yao sometimes felt a pang of melancholy. He sensed, deep down, that although Song Jixin treated him warmly and without distance, he had never truly regarded him as a confidant.
Zhao Yao had never set foot in Song Jixin's home before, but the moment he laid eyes on a certain residence, he knew it could only belong to him. The spring couplets posted on the door bore Song's unmistakable calligraphy—an eclectic style, wildly varied, yet consistently masterful. Each character seemed to pulse with life. "Riding the Wind" was rendered in a single breath, fluid and unrestrained, evoking a soaring spirit. The character "Abyss," with its water radical, held depths unfathomable. "Marvel" was audaciously sweeping, brimming with thunderous force. And "Nation" was written with such balanced composure, like a sage seated in solemn dignity, flawless in its execution.
Zhao Yao stood at the threshold, momentarily forgetting to knock, leaning forward as if drawn into a trance by the brushstrokes. He felt his courage evaporate. Precisely because he had devoted himself to calligraphy, diligently copying countless masterpieces, he could truly comprehend the power, weight, and soul embedded in each stroke. Overwhelmed with quiet sorrow, he retrieved a coin pouch from his sleeve and gently placed it at the doorstep, intending to leave without a word.
Just then, the courtyard gate swung open. Zhao Yao looked up to see Song Jixin and his maid Zhigui, mid-conversation and all smiles. Feigning surprise, Song Jixin teased,"Such a grand gesture, Zhao Yao—what noble purpose lies behind it?"
Caught off guard, Zhao Yao awkwardly reached for the pouch, only for Song to snatch it with a grin."Oh? So you're here bearing gifts? I gladly accept! But fair warning—I'm a poor man, and have no fitting present to return. If I don't reciprocate, wouldn't that be rather impolite?"
Zhao Yao managed a bitter smile."Consider it a parting gift—a token of goodwill, not to be returned."
Song Jixin exchanged a knowing glance with Zhigui and handed her the pouch."See? Didn't I say Zhao Yao is the most courteous scholar in town?"
The girl clutched it to her chest, eyes curved in delight. She offered a graceful bow."Many thanks, Young Master Zhao. My lord always says: a house of virtue brings prosperity; a heart that does good shall reap blessings. Allow me to wish you great success and an ascent as swift as the soaring roc."
Zhao Yao hastily returned the gesture."My gratitude, Miss Zhigui, for your auspicious words."
Song Jixin rubbed the back of his head and yawned."Aren't you two tired yet?"
Zhigui beamed."If I received a coin pouch every time, I'd bow ten thousand times without complaint."
Zhao Yao flushed slightly."I fear I may have set a false expectation."
With a carefree wave, Song Jixin declared,"Come—let's drink!"
Zhao Yao hesitated, visibly uneasy. Song raised an eyebrow."Coward. You study like a sage but have none of a gentleman's verve. What good is learning if it can't rouse the spirit?"
Zhao Yao ventured,"A modest drink, perhaps?"
Song rolled his eyes."We drink till we're gloriously drunk!"
Before Zhao Yao could protest, Song had thrown an arm around his neck and dragged him along.
As Zhigui locked the gate, a four-legged snake tried to sneak out, only to be kicked back inside. Passing the neighboring house, she tiptoed and cast a sideways glance. She spotted Liu Xiangyang's tall figure, who immediately beamed at her. He was just about to greet her, but she had already looked away and quickened her pace.
Though the town had a tavern, it was neither large nor inexpensive. Still, Zhao Yao was a Zhao family son, with a good reputation. For reasons unknown, the notoriously stingy tavern keeper, upon recognizing the two, insisted they were doing him an honor by gracing his establishment, and refused a single copper. He even declared that they ought to charge him for the privilege.
Song Jixin immediately reached out his hand and cheekily demanded payment, prompting the keeper to awkwardly retreat, saying he'd deliver several fine jars of wine to Song's residence the next day.
Zhao Yao wished he could sink into the earth. Fortunately, the keeper, long familiar with the eccentricities of the young master of Clay Bottle Alley, wasn't truly offended. He personally escorted the trio to a quiet window seat on the second floor.
Surprisingly, Song Jixin remained rather quiet. He didn't push drinks nor play tricks. This puzzled Zhao Yao, who had braced himself for the worst.
From the upstairs window, the plaque of the Twelve-Legged Archway was clearly visible—its inscription, "Unyielding Righteousness," stared back at them.
Song Jixin asked,"Master Qi truly isn't leaving town with you?"
Zhao Yao nodded."He changed his plans at the last moment. Said he wanted to stay and finish teaching the penultimate essay—'On Rituals'."
Song Jixin sighed,"Then he must be preparing to speak of grand truths. That in the beginning, there were no laws in the world. The sages taught people through ritual. Only when ritual was broken did punishment arise—thus came law. Law and ritual, in that order: first ritual, then law…"
Already tipsy, Zhao Yao slurred slightly,"Do you think he's right? Why not go all the way and teach 'Reverence for Ritual' as the final lesson?"
Song Jixin gave no direct reply."Once you leave this town, whether it's mountain fiends or river ghosts, gods or monsters—they exist only if you believe in them. As for how Master Qi teaches, and how students learn—let it be guided by fate."
Zhigui, having taken a sip herself, sat slightly flushed, endearingly dazed. The grand archway beyond the window never caught her eye. Twelve-legged, its stone pillars were carved with the Nine Offspring of the Dragon, flanked by the White Tiger, Black Tortoise, and Vermilion Bird. To the townspeople, it was a sight so familiar it no longer stirred awe.
Zhao Yao let out a drunken burp, rose unsteadily, and said,"Farewell, my friend. Until we meet again."
Song Jixin thought for a moment, then stood as well, smiling."We'll meet again, Zhao Yao. Fear not the road ahead—there will always be kindred spirits along the way."
Eyes blurred, Zhao Yao bit his tongue, and with utmost sincerity, said—