Chapter 8 The Feeling of Home
“He passed, along with five other young men. The other five were also from poor families, and all had experience building houses.”
But the next test proved difficult.
“Three days from now, the six of you come to Fulai Inn. You’ll each play a game of Go and play a piece of music for me.”
The Eight Elegant Arts of a Gentleman include playing the qin (zither), Go, calligraphy, painting, poetry, wine, flowers, and tea. Guan Zeyang chose two high-cost ones to test them—not their skill, but their composure under pressure.
He left; several scholars were discouraged.
This was difficult. Most hadn’t seen a qin; even those from wealthier families who played Go weren’t necessarily proficient.
Zhan Qiyu calmly said, “Let’s go home.”
He accompanied A Liu and Shan Cha to return the pot and then went back to the city.
Mu Jiaojiao boasted in the carriage, “I’m proficient in the qin and Go, Brother Zhan.”
This was partly true; Mu Jiaojiao had been forced to practice.
Mu’s mother believed that high-society wives should play music and Go; beauty wasn’t enough.
Mu Jiaojiao’s skill was barely sufficient.
Back home, she asked Shan Cha for her qin and tutored Zhan Qiyu.
At least he needed to understand the five notes (宮商角徵羽). Zhan Qiyu frowned, listening to her fragmented explanations, but his eyes followed her every expression, etching them into his memory.
Mu Jiaojiao wasn’t sure if her explanation was correct, but that was all she remembered. Her pink lips moved, making her student parched.
Zhan Qiyu thought that after marriage, having her occasionally teach him would be nice; marital harmony was a kind of cultivation.
Indeed, the mysterious book contained information on marital life; the author wrote whatever came to mind, making it unique.
Zhan Qiyu felt that the deeper he studied, the harder it was to suppress his darker emotions, as if a hand was guiding his outburst.
“Brother Zhan, do you understand?”
A white hand waved before him, making him avoid her gaze; he swallowed. “Mm.”
Mu Jiaojiao was used to Zhan’s aloofness; though different from her brothers, he was reserved.
Shan Cha brought the qin; they built a makeshift pavilion by the well, placing the qin there.
It was dark; the wildflowers, having been under the sun all day, finally breathed.
After dinner at Zhan’s, Mu Jiaojiao began teaching.
She sat by the qin, her delicate hand gracefully placing it on the strings, producing an unsteady note. A crow on a nearby tree shook its wings.
Even A Liu, who’d never heard music, knew it wasn’t pleasant.
Only Shan Cha looked at her mistress with admiration.
Zhan Qiyu ignored the music, only seeing the fairy in the moonlight.
Playing the qin was pleasant, at least for him.
The music agitated Zhan’s mother’s two new hens. She covered their heads and said, “You country hens don’t understand city elegance.”
The hens: Really?
Mu Jiaojiao finished, smiling innocently. “Brother Zhan, try.”
She stood, letting him sit.
As Zhan Qiyu sat, he smelled her fragrance; he took a deep breath, then examined the qin before touching the strings.
He played the five notes; each sound was as long and distant as the moon.
The hens calmed down.
Shan Cha, seeing her mistress’s starry eyes, thought Zhan had more talent; he didn’t sound irritating.
He only played briefly, didn’t practice, and dismissed them.
“I’ll practice. You can go.”
A Liu didn’t understand Mu Jiaojiao’s dismissal; she cheerfully said, “I’ll come tomorrow.”
Only Go remained.
She wasn’t skilled but had many Go books; she’d bring them tomorrow.
Back in her room, Mu Jiaojiao felt tired; she asked Shan Cha for bathwater.
Her black hair cascaded down, clinging to her slender waist, emphasizing her beauty.
Bathing, she stared, thinking of the makeshift pavilion and the tall man seated there, captivating without even playing.
Lost in thought, she didn’t hear Shan Cha enter.
Seeing her mistress’s flushed face, Shan Cha teased, “Miss, what are you thinking?” Splashing water on her.
“Bad Shan Cha, you’re annoying.”
Their laughter reached A Liu, who was practicing.
He was surprised—he could hear this; it was the legendary “wind ear.”
He tried listening farther, not to eavesdrop but to test his skill.
He heard a couple arguing next door—grunting and groaning—and stopped listening.
Zhan Qiyu studied the “High Mountain Flowing Water” score Mu Jiaojiao brought; he didn’t rush to practice, mentally rehearsing instead.
The miscellaneous book mentioned mental practice could be faster than physical.
He wanted to verify.
The ornate qin showed its high price.
Zhan Qiyu vowed to give her a better life and a better qin.
His eyes were sharp, his dark eyes filled with possessiveness.
His cold demeanor changed with his affection; he’d never been so eager to succeed.
He thought of the scholar who’d studied here, raised his imaginary cup, and gestured towards a direction. “I’ll protect her; no one will harm her.”
A phantom youth seemed to clink cups with him, saying thanks.
They agreed; he would reach the top, giving her glory.
That night, Mu Jiaojiao dreamt that someone spoke to her, but she couldn’t hear or see.
Waking, she didn’t remember.
“Shan Cha, let’s go next door.”
“Miss, you haven’t had breakfast.”
“Let’s eat there.”
Mu Jiaojiao didn’t want to delay her benefactor; she had nothing to do at home.
But her mother was planning her path to success—her designated entry into the palace.
Zhan’s courtyard was full of life—pickled vegetables and drying racks.
Mu Jiaojiao explored curiously.
Zhan Qiyu planned to create more beautiful gardens for her.
Shan Cha took pastries to the kitchen; she liked Zhan’s atmosphere, unlike Mu’s, where she felt like a servant.
She felt uncomfortable; failing to meet expectations meant punishment.
Zhan’s felt like home, relaxed and free.
They ate sweet potato porridge together; Mu Jiaojiao felt a sense of home at Zhan’s, unlike her own, where her mother only nagged her.
Here, they laughed and talked; she always urged Brother Zhan to improve, but hadn’t asked if he wanted it.
She looked at Zhan Qiyu several times while eating, caught by him, but he remained still, eating his porridge.
Afterward, she went to his room to play Go; Zhan Qiyu saw her first move and understood her skill.
Mu Jiaojiao, thinking of other things, was quickly defeated.
“Brother Zhan, you want to be Master Guan’s apprentice, right?”
She waited for his reply.
After a while, he casually said, “Naturally.”
He spoke gently; he understood her wish—to reassure her.
A sweet smile brightened her face.
Her finger touched his, a brief contact, only the sound of black and white pieces colliding.
Zhan Qiyu felt a tingling sensation, like a resonance with his beloved, his heart pounding, but he showed displeasure.
She stuck out her tongue, apologizing, “Sorry, Brother Zhan; I didn’t mean to.”
He didn’t mind.
But he couldn’t say that, coldly saying, “I’ll figure it out myself. You can go.”
“Ah? Really?”
Mu Jiaojiao clutched her handkerchief, reluctantly leaving when he insisted.
After she left, Zhan Qiyu breathed deeply; the touch sent shivers through him.
He covered his face with a wet handkerchief to clear his head; it wasn’t the time.
Not yet.
Mu Jiaojiao left, seeing Zhan’s mother, Shan Cha, and A Liu playing Go.
Shan Cha and A Liu didn’t know how to play, but they had their own logic.
Zhan’s mother, who was illiterate, heard about the master’s test and was curious.
Though a former servant in a wealthy household, she only knew little about the game.
Failing to impress Zhan Qiyu, she started teaching everyone about Go.
Zhan’s mother, looking at the beautiful young lady, thought she was suitable for her son, remembering the matchmaker’s words.