Bearing the blue sky

Chapter 317 Seeking a Master

"Why don't we go and ask Mr. Zhu Ge in person?"

When those words popped into Sun Chuan's mind, he was momentarily stunned.

He never took the initiative to seek out anyone, let alone someone he had never met before.

But he really wanted to figure out what the story was about, not because it contained a fixed answer.

It was because he felt he was getting closer to something, like a person standing on the shore who could feel fish swimming underwater, but couldn't see their outlines clearly.

The next afternoon, he went to the backyard of the teahouse as usual, but instead of sitting down to practice calligraphy, he stood in front of Old Liu for a while, waiting for him to speak first.

"Do you have something to say?" Old Liu asked.

"Hmm." Sun Chuan hesitated, "I want to go find the person who wrote 'The Old Man and the Sea'."

Old Liu did not answer immediately.

He put down his book, picked up his teacup and took a sip, as if giving Sun Chuan some time to process his words:

'

Do you know where he is?

"I don't know." Sun Chuan shook his head. "But there should be news about him in the newspapers."

Old Liu neither refuted nor directly said "no".

He put the teacup back on the table: "What are you going to ask him?"

"I want to ask the old man in that story, what exactly was he fighting against?"

"Have you thought about this question yourself?"

Sun Chuan was silent for a moment: "I've thought about it, but I think my thinking might be wrong."

"It doesn't matter if you're wrong." Old Liu laughed. "What you're thinking now and what you'll be thinking later might be the same thing or different things. The important thing is that you're thinking about it."

Sun Chuan didn't answer immediately, as if he was storing those words in his own time, waiting for them to settle down, before saying, "Then I still want to go."

Old Liu didn't stop him anymore. He took out a folded piece of paper from the drawer and handed it to Sun Chuan: "These are some of the locations where Mo Shou's Silver Eagle puppet has stopped. The closest one is at the post station in the west of the city. A batch of newspapers is delivered there every five days. You can ask the people at the post station if you can find Zhu Ge's location by following that line."

Sun Chuan took the paper. It had several fold lines and place names marked on it. The handwriting was a bit messy, but the direction was roughly discernible.

He didn't unfold it to examine it closely on the spot, but instead folded it up and put it back in his pocket: "Thank you, Uncle Liu."

Old Liu didn't respond to that remark. He simply picked up the book again, turned to the page he had read before, as if he didn't intend to say anything more.

Sun Chuan did not set off immediately.

He first returned to his lodgings, unfolded the paper on the table and looked it over, confirming the order and distance of the place names, and then began packing his few belongings.

He didn't have much to take with him, only a change of old clothes, the half-eaten pancake, the piece of paper Old Liu had given him, and the half-page of sentences he had written himself.

He put them into a cloth bag, tied the bag shut, stood at the door for a while, as if waiting for a certain idea to be completely settled, then closed the door and walked towards the west of the city.

He walked very steadily, each step firm and solid, as if he were someone who was used to walking long distances.

The post station was small, located at the end of a relatively secluded street in the west of the city.

The courtyard wall was not high, and a wooden sign hung at the entrance with the words "Post Station" written on it, though the writing was already somewhat blurred.

Sun Chuan stood at the door for a while, hesitating whether to go in or not, when a young man in a gray short-sleeved shirt came out, holding a roll of rope. He stopped when he saw Sun Chuan and asked, "Who are you looking for?"

"I'd like to ask, will the Silver Eagle Puppet pass through this area?"

The young man looked him up and down: "Why are you asking this?"

"I'm looking for someone," Sun Chuan said, "the person who wrote 'The Old Man and the Sea'."

The young man paused for a moment, then said, "You want to go find Mr. Zhu Ge?"

"Um."

"Then you're too late." The young man pointed to the sky: "The Silver Eagle Puppet just flew away yesterday, and the next one won't arrive for another five days."

Sun Chuan nodded, showing no sign of disappointment: "Then where can I wait if I want to?"

The young man looked at him for a while, then turned to the side and tilted his head towards the yard: "There's an open space in the backyard, you can wait there."

Sun Chuan followed him into the backyard of the post station.

The yard wasn't big, with several bundles of timber and a few empty wooden crates piled up. There was a crooked tree in the corner, and under the tree was a smooth stone that had been sat on.

He sat down on the rock, placed the cloth bag at his feet, and waited quietly, as if he were prepared to wait.

He waited for five days.

Every day he would sit on that stone in the yard, occasionally get up and walk around the yard, and sometimes squat by the wall, using a stick to draw the words he had already learned on the ground.

The young man at the inn would occasionally hand him a bowl of water. Without asking any questions, he would take it, drink it, return the bowl, and continue sitting.

On the evening of the fifth day, as darkness fell, a silver light flew from afar and landed on the branch above his head.

The Silver Eagle puppet was smaller than he had imagined, and was entirely silver-white, composed of fine metal parts and a dense wooden structure.

Its eyes are two blue crystals embedded in metal grooves, and its wings on both sides of its body are folded and folded together, just enough to stand on the branches, making a slight metallic clanging sound.

There was an open compartment on its belly containing a small roll of newspaper.

The young man from the inn came out of the room, took out the rolled-up newspaper from a hidden compartment, and handed it directly to Sun Chuan without reading it: "This is the last batch delivered here. If you are looking for Mr. Zhu Ge, the Silver Eagle puppet will stop along the way when it flies back to the printing shop. You can follow the Silver Eagle, but you may not be able to keep up with its speed on foot."

"We'll see how long we can go on," Sun Chuan said.

He put the rolled-up newspaper into his bag, then looked up at the silver eagle on the branch, as if trying to determine the direction the road sign extended from its orientation.

The silver eagle paused on the branch for a moment, then flapped its wings and flew southeast.

Without hesitation, Sun Chuan also started walking in the same direction.

Sun Chuan walked for a long time in the direction the silver eagle had flown.

Silver Eagle was much faster than he had imagined.

As he walked out of the low-rise housing area in the west of the city, the silver eagle had already turned into a tiny silver dot on the horizon. It remained in his field of vision for a while before being swallowed by the clouds and disappearing completely.

He neither stopped nor deliberately sped up his pace.

He knew he couldn't catch an eagle, but he knew he was heading in the right direction, and the signpost was still within his sight, like the outline of daylight before it had completely faded.

He walked all night.

The roadside vegetation changed from sparse to lush, and then from lush to sparse again.

He passed through several harvested rice paddies and a few villages with only two or three households. Occasionally, he would encounter figures walking at night, passing each other at a distance without saying a word.

As dawn broke, he reached the edge of the city wall of another small town, as if he had finally arrived at a place where he could rest temporarily after a night of trekking.

He sat down against the wall, took out the biscuit, broke off a small piece, and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly.

My gaze fell on the gradually brightening horizon above the city wall, as if waiting for a thin layer of mist to dissipate so I could see if the road ahead was still stretching out.

Silver Eagle did not appear, but he was not disappointed.

He finished the last sip of water from his water bag, stood up, dusted off his trousers, and continued walking.

This went on for several days.

He traveled during the day and slept in roadside sheds or abandoned farmhouses at night.

Occasionally, you can see the silver eagle soaring overhead, like a line being slowly drawn back, extending in the same direction and never lingering in one place for too long.

He didn't deliberately chase after the silver eagle; he simply walked in the direction it had flown.

That line will eventually reach a fixed position, and the pedestrian only needs to follow the trace it leaves behind and maintain their own speed to avoid straying too far.

On the evening of the seventh day, he passed through a small town full of willow trees. At the entrance of the town, there was a small shop with a wooden sign hanging on the door that read "Letter writing service".

He stood at the door for a while, then went inside and asked the shop owner to write him a letter.

The recipient should be "Mr. Zhu Ge," and the address should be left blank.

He wrote the address of his little house on the envelope, as if leaving a crease to ensure he wouldn't be completely forgotten.

The letter cost him a few copper coins; the paper and ink were provided by the shopkeeper.

He didn't ask any more questions and stood at the shop entrance waiting for a while.

Watching the shopkeeper fold and seal the letter, then say "thank you," he turned and continued walking in the direction the silver eagle had flown.

On the tenth day at noon, he walked to a river.

The river is wide and the current is gentle, with dense reeds growing on both banks.

There is an ancient stone bridge over the river. Its surface has been worn smooth by pedestrians and wheels, and it gleams with a faint, shimmering light, as if polished by countless footsteps.

He stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaned against the railing to rest, as if it were the first time he had slowed down on this stretch of road.

A small boat is drifting slowly on the water in the distance.

A person was sitting at the stern of the boat, using a bamboo pole to gently dip into the water, as if testing the depth of the water or measuring the direction of the riverbed.

Sun Chuan watched for a while, then looked away. He stood on the bridge watching the ship gradually approach until it stopped below the bridge.

The bow of the boat was tilted at an angle towards the riverbank, as if it had already arrived at the harbor where it was ready to dock.

"Are you crossing the river?" the person at the stern asked.

Sun Chuan looked down at him, as if confirming that the words were indeed spoken to him.

"Yes," Sun Chuan said.

"Get on the boat, I'm heading to the other side of the river," the man said.

Without hesitation, Sun Chuan walked along the stone steps beside the bridge to the riverbank and sat down at the stern of the boat.

The boat rocked slightly before regaining its balance.

The man lifted the bamboo pole out of the water, replaced it with a wooden paddle, and began paddling towards the opposite bank.

The river water left a slowly spreading trail behind the oars, quietly dispersing across the river's surface.

"Where are you from?" the man asked.

"A small town," Sun Chuan replied, "further west."

"Where are we going?"

"Go find someone."

The man didn't ask who it was, but simply continued rowing.

As the boat docked on the opposite bank, the man pointed ahead: "There's a ferry crossing not far ahead. There are boats going to Dongting Lake from there. The person you're looking for might be there."

Sun Chuan thanked him, walked a few steps after landing, and then looked back at the boat and the figure sitting at the stern.

The ship had turned around again and was slowly rowing back the way it came.

Sun Chuan continued walking for a while and arrived at the ferry crossing the man had mentioned around dusk. He sat down on a flat rock on the shore and waited for the next boat to dock.

Just then, a carriage came from ahead.

No, or rather, it was a wolf-drawn carriage, pulled by enormous snow wolves.

Sitting in the car was an elderly man with a weathered face but a heroic air about him, who was drinking alcohol.

The person pulling the cart was a young girl who was playing with her hair and whispering something to it as she did so.

None of these people matter; what matters is the young man sitting upright in the carriage, resting with his eyes closed.

This road is not very wide, and there are very few pedestrians.

Logically speaking, such a distinguished carriage should be traveling on a wide official road.

"What an honorable family!"

Sun Chuan shook his head, not intending to go up and bother him.

That snow wolf looked like it could bite him in two with a single bite.

So Sun Chuan dodged to the side.

But at that moment, the old man stopped drinking and looked over.

The old man's eyes—Sun Chuan felt he was seeing the old man in "The Old Man and the Sea".

"Young man, I sense you have many troubles?" the old man said with a smile. "I see you have nothing of value; our meeting is fate. Why don't you come up and have a chat?"

As if guided by some unseen force, Sun Chuan nodded.

If you have nothing of your own, no one else will covet your wealth.

As for fate?

I'm just a beggar, and there are people like me everywhere.

It wouldn't be so bad as to invite him to sit in that clean carriage just to harm him.

So Sun Chuan went.

After boarding the carriage and exchanging greetings, Sun Chuan sat facing the old man.

The girl in front of him glanced at him curiously a few times, and he returned her a polite smile.

The young man, however, remained with his eyes closed, resting.

Sun Chuan sat down, and the old man smiled and said, "You seem to be in a hurry. Where are you going? Who are you going to see?"

Sun Chuan said, "Go find a teacher."

The old man exclaimed in surprise, "Teacher? Are you going to become an apprentice?"

Sun Chuan shook his head: "It's not about becoming an apprentice, but about going to see my teacher."

The old man asked curiously, "What does this mean?"

Sun Chuan explained, "I have learned a lot from my teacher's works and seen a world I had never seen before. So, although I have not formally become his apprentice, my teacher has already taught me through his works."

"I see." The old man nodded with a smile. "That's interesting. How did your teacher teach you? What did he teach you?"

Sun Chuan took out a newspaper he had treasured in his pocket: "Through the newspaper, I learned an article called 'The Old Man and the Sea'."

""

"I learned to read and write through newspapers, and I also learned resilience and perseverance from them. These are the qualities my teacher instilled in me."

"Haha, so it's a newspaper." The old man laughed, then immediately scoffed, "I think this 'The Old Man and the Sea' is just so-so!"

Upon hearing this, Sun Chuan frowned and was about to say something when he saw the old man turn to the young man beside him and say, "Zhu Ge, what do you think?"

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