Horse-head Wall Reflects the Qing Dynasty

Chapter 60: The fragrance of the writing spreads across the streets

"Whether it was intentional or unintentional, if you did something wrong you should take responsibility. Besides, when did your father and teacher ever teach you to compete with others with money like this?"

"My son's ink is not top quality, and it has been used for some time... He shouldn't have been so persistent. I think it's better to just let it go today. After all, your son didn't do it on purpose."

The rain always comes without warning, and the ink block's fight ended hastily along with the water falling from the eaves. Cheng Heng watched the two reasonable parents leave with a grateful heart.

Sitting alone and watching the rain always seems a bit boring. Even with a cup of fresh tea from before the Qingming Festival by his side, Cheng Heng still feels a bit lonely - with so much busyness in the day, it is hard for people to get used to the feeling of being idle.

Apart from leaving early, Cheng Heng couldn't think of what he could do. The blank white paper on the desk made everything seem even more boring.

"What should I write about?"

Holding a piece of draft paper, the old memories of writing a novel hidden under a textbook in high school came to his mind. Cheng Heng picked up the pen and a bunch of sloppy words fell on the rice paper - for the first time, Cheng Heng did not feel that these words did not live up to the pen and ink in his hand.

"I have climbed and descended the three thousand feet of Huangshan Mountain, and I offer a stick of incense to Baiyue Mountain. When I am drunk, I climb Yungang Mountain. When I wake up from my dream, I always want to help the country prosper."

The three fairies on Mount Huangshan gave Cheng Heng a lot of inspiration. It was only after the words flowed from his pen for a long time that he suddenly realized that apart from these four plays about the stories of Huizhou merchants, he had never written about the story of his hometown.

"I am from Qimen, Huizhou. I have studied poetry and books since I was young. This time I went to Beijing to take the exam. I lost my money. I saw this deserted temple to shelter me from the wind and rain. I am willing to stay here for one night."

There are countless old and new palaces, temples and shrines in Huangshan and Baiyue Mountain, which have witnessed the changes of dynasties as well as the alternations between Taoism and Buddhism. When Cheng Heng had the dream that day, he thought about the aspirations of immortals and mortals. A story about becoming an immortal in a dream and still having to deal with the ups and downs of officialdom when he woke up immediately took shape in his mind.

After a few paragraphs were written on the paper, Cheng Heng felt that it was boring again. The hypocritical words had a sense of "making up a new poem to express sadness", which was not the story that Cheng Heng really wanted.

Putting down his pen, Cheng Heng stood up, walked to the eaves beside the patio, and looked up at the sky that was already filled with twilight.

The sky was clear, and the rain had washed away every speck of dust. Only a few pieces of moss broke the original aura, making everything seem more vivid.

Cheng Heng stood there for a long while, until a hint of blue-purple completely replaced the strands of crimson in the distance, and then he rubbed his fingertips that were slightly swollen due to the hanging...

Since when did the stories I wrote become more and more neat, closer to those on stage, while I could only occasionally immerse myself in them? It seemed to be after class after class, after revision after revision.

Therefore, the fantastic and magnificent stories in the dream made Cheng Heng marvel at the naturalness and grace of the soul of the mountain - but dreams are clearly born from humans.

The night in Tunxi was not quiet. Cheng Heng opened the door and wanted to walk around aimlessly.

"What are you writing about?"

"The teacher came to me, and I thought you were... who would have thought that you would be doing these low-class things instead of doing your homework in class!"

The father should have wanted to wait until he got home to react, but his son was sneaking around behind him, trying to secretly take the large stack of papers from his hand back into his own hands.

The son only thought that his hard work would be burned, so he tried again and again. But he couldn't get it back, so he could only make his father's anger pile up higher and higher, and finally the latter couldn't help but explode in the street.

"Dad, just give those back to me." The son relied on the fact that his father would not fight in public, so he asked boldly, "Dad, can't I just stop writing in the private school from now on?"

The father was so disappointed with his son that he almost threw the stack of papers in his hand at his son's face. He only hated that his son knew that they were on the street, but he still added fuel to the fire: "Why don't you write this in the private school? Are you going to bring this kind of thing home to write it?"

"I don't know what you have learned from all the things the teacher said!" The whole family spent all their efforts to let their son study so that he could pass the imperial examination, not to let this troublesome kid waste his energy and time on these meaningless things.

What's more, when the father took the stack of papers from the gentleman, he had seen what was written on them - they were all love stories for young ladies and young men!
"Your family has worked so hard to send you to school, is it just for you to spend your days dreaming of meeting a singing girl or a young lady from a scholarly family? You have no ambition, I think you don't need to study anymore!"

Cheng Heng can empathize with the child who is still silently reaching out his hand, trying to snatch his manuscript back from his father. When he was in junior high school, Cheng Heng didn’t know what "fan fiction" or "secondary creation" were, but he had already been caught by teachers and parents for writing novels.

Of course, Cheng Heng’s behavior back then was not a heinous crime. After all, he just read Dream of the Red Chamber, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and Water Margin in class, and then he didn’t like the endings of the characters in them, so he rewrote one himself...

"Dad, I just..."

"Just what? Don't continue to embarrass yourself in the street!" The father grabbed his son's arm, pulling and dragging him, wanting only to take him home quickly, not wanting to continue to embarrass himself in the street.

But how many young people don't act on impulse? So the more the father tries to stop them, the more he thinks that the children have no dignity, and the stronger the children's rebellion becomes.

He suddenly shook off his father's hand, and before the father could react, he knocked the pile of rice paper in his father's other hand down, and stood there shouting, "Then I won't learn, I will go north too, and I will follow you to Yangzhou to do business!"

"You..." The father never expected that his child would suddenly have a seizure in the street.

People in the surrounding shops who had originally wanted to watch the excitement were also startled by this sudden change and didn't know whether they should react.

The rain that fell not long ago finally took effect. At this moment, it wet the rice paper that fell on the ground, just like it was wetted by tears. Cheng Heng's eyes fell on it, and after thinking for a while, he squatted down, picked up the words that the bluestone ground had not yet swallowed, and held them in his hands.

"Okay, if that's the case, then you don't have to acknowledge me as your father!"

When his father said this, the boy, who had already shifted his gaze to Cheng Heng, froze in his tracks: "Dad, I'm not... I don't mean that."

"Then what do you want to do? Make money? Your father is not so poor that he can't afford to feed you!"

"I...I..." The young man didn't know how to explain his thoughts at this moment. How could the imperial examination be so easy? He couldn't even learn better than his classmates in the private school. It was clearly a waste of time to spend money in the private school.

Even if I passed the exam, so what? Where are there so many official positions waiting for me?

But he heard that the Huiban troupes that went from Yangzhou to Beijing were very popular in the palace! If he wrote some stories for them and performed them in front of the emperor, it would be much more likely to be seen by the emperor than relying on the imperial examination!

I was clearly trying to fulfill what my father wanted me to do, so why did my father... "You what?"

"I……"

"Come home with me!" The father's words were naturally spoken in anger. He was annoyed with the child and blushed at being seen by the people around him. He just wanted to take his son home to settle the score. "Don't embarrass yourself in this street again!"

"What a disgrace..." The young man kept chewing these words in his mouth and followed his father like a lost soul.

The onlookers have dispersed, and it is always not a good idea to get too involved in other people's family affairs.

So on the street, Cheng Heng, who was holding a stack of rice paper, became the focus of everyone's attention - Cheng Heng selfishly wanted to return all the manuscripts to the young man.

Many of the words on the rice paper were similar to the banned books of the era. Even though Cheng Heng knew that even if the books were banned, it would not stop some stories with real literary significance from spreading among the people, but he did not want the young man in front of him to cause him unnecessary trouble.

"Here, take it."

Cheng Heng was glad that the father's steps did not leave him any room for maneuver. While Cheng Heng was still struggling, he had already gone far enough, giving him a legitimate reason to return the manuscript to the young man.

"Thank you." The young man bowed to express his gratitude but was helped up by Cheng Heng.

When his hand touched the boy's sleeve, Cheng Heng could clearly feel the boy trembling. Fear and excitement, Cheng Heng himself had experienced this feeling - when he pieced together his torn notebook from the trash can.

"Speak to your father nicely."

The young man raised his head artificially, with tears still hanging on his chin that had not been blown away by the night wind. His stubborn eyes reflected in Cheng Heng's eyes, and he slowly uttered a word: "Yes."

How similar it was to my own time! It was at that time that Cheng Heng's stubbornness made him decide to write stories as his future direction.

Write it openly in class!
"Well, these things...if you want to keep them well, you can give them to me."

At that time, Cheng Heng also had such a Chinese teacher. The teacher supported Cheng Heng's dream of writing, but advised him to find a suitable time, and even gave him guiding suggestions after reading his articles.

Now Cheng Heng has become a teacher to so many people, and he is more grateful to his former Chinese teacher. Perhaps without the teacher's company, Cheng Heng's dream would have been abandoned halfway...

"You..." The person in front of him was also a private school teacher. Originally, his father wanted to send him there to study. The young man didn't know whether he should trust Cheng Heng.

"Are you willing to believe me?"

Taking it back would mean that it would be burned by his father. The young man quickly looked at the person in front of him, and finally said nothing, nor expressed his opinion. He just relaxed his hand a little and let Cheng Heng take away the roll of rice paper that was still intact.

"Aren't you going home yet?" The father waited for a long time but his son didn't show up. He thought his son was still angry with him, so he turned around and yelled at the man in front of him, "The food at home is getting cold!"

"Who are you?" After a moment, the father recognized the person in front of him. "Are you Mr. Cheng from the other side of the street? I've heard of you for a long time. I wonder what you want to do when you stop my son?"

"nothing."

The father was not busy sizing up Cheng Heng. His biggest goal at the moment was to bring this unfilial son home.

Cheng Heng originally wanted to let the father and son go like this, but the coexisting feeling of wetness and dryness in his hands finally moved Cheng Heng.

"Wait a minute."

"Why not let your son study in my private school? I can waive all the tuition fees." Cheng Heng still couldn't remember his nightmare, and ultimately refused to admit what Guan Yin had believed.

"What is your intention, sir?"

"Just now I saw that your son's personality is similar to mine." The word "fate" is wonderful, and any explanation is reasonable. Cheng Heng knew that he could not find a more suitable excuse, "It will also prevent your son from getting upset with the teacher and being even more unwilling to study, wouldn't it..."

Cheng Heng also understood that it was not a good deal to chase after someone. So the inducement stopped there.

"Of course, it also depends on what your son thinks."

"It's getting late, sir. Have you had your meal yet? Why don't you come to my house and sit down, then we can talk about my son after dinner." As a father, he naturally hopes the best for his son. He had not thought too much about it at first, until Cheng Heng said this. Considering his son's personality, he couldn't help but hesitate.

"That's not necessary. It's getting late and I should go back..." Cheng Heng didn't want to cause trouble for himself. After giving a few instructions, he said hello to the young man and turned to leave the street.

A familiar world, within the four-sided frame, seemed full of restrictions. Cheng Heng frowned, bolted the door, and traced the tiles on the eaves with his eyes.

It was because he met such a teacher that he became what he is today, Cheng Heng. Now he also wants to be such a teacher and bring a possibility to the future of that young man. No matter what he chooses in the future, he should not be bound by the so-called "right way".

What's more, people at that time looked down on opera singers, but opera singers never did anything wrong.

Cheng Heng is both a scriptwriter and an opera singer, and he doesn’t like this period of history…

"So what if I sing opera? So what if I'm an actor? It's nothing more than a name in the mouths of this group of people!" Silently reciting these words to cheer himself up, Cheng Heng pushed open the door and sat back in the study room which had become dark with the night.

The clean rice paper in front of him was not pure white, and Cheng Heng suddenly knew what he wanted to write... When the pen in his hand began to ooze ink again, Cheng Heng seemed to have found back the joy that came with every stroke of the pen when he was sitting in the classroom in junior high school.

The shadows of the bamboos swayed, and so did the candles. It was not until the candles in front of him burned out completely and the whole room was plunged into darkness with only a thin layer of moonlight that Cheng Heng came back to his senses...