Chapter 405: The Meaning of Living in Peace

Zhū Yánxù had known Jì Yuán for many years and was well aware of his extraordinary nature, but this was his first visit to Jì Yuán's residence.

The older one gets, the more clearly one perceives things. Compared to years past, Zhū Yánxù's perception of Jì Yuán was now even more profound. Just watching Jì Yuán slowly grind ink, his previously anxious and restless heart gradually calmed, and his breathing became increasingly steady.

“Lord Zhū, I’ve just boiled the water. How about we use the tea you brought to make some tea and enjoy it together?” Jì Yuán had just finished preparing the ink. He looked up at Zhū Yánxù and asked.

“Of course, that’s fine. Mister Jì, would you prefer the Peak Tip tea from Yōuzhōu or the Pre-Rain tea from our Jīzhōu? I’ve brought some of both, all fine teas gifted by friends and family.”

“Pre-Rain tea, please. It’s been years since I last had it.”

“Alright!” Zhū Yánxù bowed his head and bent down, rummaging through the sack he had brought. He pulled out a yellow bamboo canister, shook it, and twisted it open. A faint aroma of tea drifted out.

With Jì Yuán's sense of smell, he naturally knew it was excellent tea, no worse than what the Wei family had given him back then. Looking at Zhū Yánxù, the hand holding the bamboo canister was wrinkled with age. His complexion was still somewhat ruddy, but his temples were gray and flecked with white. He resembled the formidable County Lieutenant Zhū from memory by only about seventy percent.

Jì Yuán took the bamboo canister from Zhū Yánxù, said, “Please wait a moment,” and walked towards the kitchen.

Zhū Yánxù watched Jì Yuán leave, then looked around the Small Jū'ān Pavilion. Not far away, the well was covered with a large stone slab. The surrounding houses appeared old, with dull or peeling paint, but everything looked very clean.

The jujube tree overhead was considerably larger than it appeared from outside the courtyard. It resembled a vast canopy, shading most of the Small Jū'ān Pavilion's courtyard. Yet, miraculously, winter sunlight always managed to filter through its branches, making the area beneath the shade remarkably bright and warm.

Turning his gaze back to the table, the plaque of the Small Jū'ān Pavilion was not elaborately mounted or framed; it was merely a wooden board with polished edges. Fortunately, the wood seemed to be of good quality, showing no cracks or signs of insect damage. As for the characters on it, they were indeed faded and incomplete, completely illegible.

Having brought a precious inkstone, Zhū Yánxù's gaze naturally fell upon the scholar's four treasures that Jì Yuán had laid out. Of course, without paper, there were only three treasures visible.

The ink was certainly of the highest quality. The brush on the ceramic brush rest also seemed unusual. Zhū Yánxù viewed it from several angles, feeling that the sunlight hitting the brush created different lusters, which was very pleasing to the eye. He had never before experienced such a feeling about a brush.

The inkstone, however, appeared to be just an ordinary old black inkstone. Zhū Yánxù felt that the one he had brought was superior, and he thought to himself that he should insist on offering it again later, just in case Mister Jì was merely being polite.

Just then, Jì Yuán emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with teacups and a pot of freshly brewed tea.

“Lord Zhū, I apologize for the wait. I’ve been away from home for a long time and haven’t hosted guests in ages, so I’m a bit out of practice. I should have prepared the tea as soon as you arrived.”

Zhū Yánxù quickly stood up to help. “Oh, Mister Jì, not at all! It was I who made a hasty visit and disturbed you.”

They poured the tea. Zhū Yánxù blew on his to cool it, while Jì Yuán set his aside.

Zhū Yánxù didn't actually have any specific favor to ask, but seeing Jì Yuán, he simply wanted to build rapport. He recalled how frequently Master Yǐn used to visit the Small Jū'ān Pavilion back then, which suggested Master Yǐn had long recognized Mister Jì's extraordinary nature.

Although Zhū Yánxù understood that Master Yǐn's current standing was primarily due to his own talent and hard work, he couldn't help but wonder if Mister Jì had also provided some assistance.

Originally, Zhū Yánxù was a military man; while not dull, he wasn't particularly talkative. Before his visit, he had deliberated on how to converse with Jì Yuán. Now, however, many words spontaneously came to mind.

He blew on his hot tea, inhaled its fragrance, but didn't drink immediately. Watching Jì Yuán meticulously clean the remaining vermilion lacquer from the wooden board, he said with a touch of emotion, “Mister, you haven't returned for over a decade, have you?”

Jì Yuán, using a small seashell to carefully scrape the wood, nodded and said, “Something like that.”

Zhū Yánxù took a shallow sip of tea, looked up at the gently swaying jujube tree branches, then back at Jì Yuán. “In the blink of an eye, I’ve grown old, yet Mister Jì retains the same demeanor as back then!”

Jì Yuán smiled. “Lord Zhū, you flatter me. You are still robust in your old age, and your demeanor remains as excellent as ever. I presume the same applies to Lord Chén Shēng.”

In Jì Yuán's previous life, Chén Shēng and Zhū Yánxù would have been described as the "Two Heroes of Níng'ān County," having the greatest influence on the county over several decades, before the meteoric rise of Yǐn Zhàoxiān.

Without these two civilian and military officials, Níng'ān County, once struggling, would not be what it is today. Thus, Jì Yuán held both in high esteem. At the very least, he admitted that when it came to governing, he might not have done better than them.

Drinking his tea, Zhū Yánxù tentatively asked another question. “I heard that after you left, the jujube tree at the Small Jū'ān Pavilion never bloomed again. Now that you’ve returned, will it finally bloom?”

While not many people in Níng'ān County might remember it now, the unique fragrance of the jujube blossoms once permeated nearly half the county. Zhū Yánxù still remembered it vividly.

“Whether it blooms or not naturally depends on its own will. However, Lord Zhū, you have a point: if I am still here next blooming season, it should bloom.”

“Oh, I see, I see!” Jì Yuán had not been evasive in these replies, answering each question directly. Zhū Yánxù now understood and, for the time being, said nothing more. He occasionally sipped his tea, watching Jì Yuán's movements. His hand gripping the teacup alternately tensed and relaxed, clearly indicating some internal hesitation.

About a quarter of an hour later, Zhū Yánxù had finished two cups of tea, and Jì Yuán had finally cleaned all the original vermilion lacquer from the wooden board. He held it under the table and gave a gentle shake, and the lacquer flakes fell directly to the ground without a single one drifting up to touch either of them by the table.

As Jì Yuán placed the wooden board back on the table, gently stroked it with his hand, and then picked up his brush, Zhū Yánxù’s attention was drawn to him.

He pulled back his sleeve, lifted the brush, and dipped it in ink, a subtle rhythm seemingly embedded in his movements. Zhū Yánxù watched intently, so absorbed that he didn't even notice that the already quiet Small Jū'ān Pavilion now seemed to have all surrounding sounds fading into the distance.

“Lord Zhū, writing can bring peace to one’s mind, and observing someone write can do the same. Please watch closely, as I will later ask for your critique of my calligraphy.” Jì Yuán's voice was calm and steady as he moved the ink-laden wolf-hair brush over the wooden plaque, then slowly lowered it.

The ink spread out the moment it touched, covering an area far larger than the brush tip. Jì Yuán, however, was unconcerned. He rotated his wrist and moved his arm, writing slowly, his strokes powerful and robust like iron and silver hooks.

As Zhū Yánxù watched Jì Yuán write, the remarkable thing was that although the tip of the wolf-hair brush in his hand was only about the width of a thumb, the strokes it left were at least two and a half fingers wide. Yet, the lines narrowed where they should and changed where necessary, without the slightest detriment to the calligraphy.

After a long while, Jì Yuán finished the last horizontal stroke, put the brush back on the nearby brush rest, observed the plaque for a moment, then smiled and said to Zhū Yánxù, “Lord Zhū, please evaluate it!”

Zhū Yánxù was still immersed in the feeling he had just experienced; even Jì Yuán’s words didn’t break this rhythm. He merely uttered “Good,” then stood up and walked to Jì Yuán’s side, looking down at the plaque, his gaze never leaving it.

Upon a direct look, the four characters “Jū'ān Xiǎogé” (Small Jū'ān Pavilion) were neither rigid nor soft. A feeling of fresh tranquility almost emanated from the surface—a sense of peace, stability, and calm that brought him complete comfort.

The characters “Jū'ān” (Dwelling in Peace) in particular brought him deep physical and mental peace, calming his mind. Even the fatigue he had accumulated from recent poor rest significantly eased, making him appear vibrant and spirited.

“Magnificent calligraphy, truly magnificent!” Zhū Yánxù was literate and could write, but his skills ended there. He couldn't articulate sophisticated compliments, but his expressions of praise were sincere. He had never seen such beautiful and soulful characters before.

“Then please, Lord Zhū, take a longer look.” With that, Jì Yuán finally picked up his teacup and began to drink. Despite it being winter, the tea in his cup, which had been left for so long, was at the perfect drinking temperature.

The winter afternoon sun was pleasantly warm. The air beneath the large jujube tree at the Small Jū'ān Pavilion was also very comfortable. Especially in his current state, Zhū Yánxù felt every breath was wonderfully pleasant and refreshing.

A considerable amount of time had passed unnoticed. Jì Yuán stood up and walked over to Zhū Yánxù, who was still standing motionless. “Lord Zhū, Lord Zhū! It’s time to awaken!”

Zhū Yánxù's spirits lifted, and he awakened as if from a dream. “Ah? I, oh, oh, magnificent calligraphy!”

“Indeed, thank you for your praise, Lord. But it’s getting late. You should return home soon; your wife and children will start to worry,” Jì Yuán said, pointing to the sky.

Zhū Yánxù paused, then looked at the sky. It had indeed grown much darker. Although obstructed by houses and courtyard walls, he could still see a faint glimmer of twilight in the west, indicating that the sun wasn't merely hidden by clouds but had truly set.

“This, how did it get so late so quickly…” Zhū Yánxù stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing something. “Mister Jì, was it this calligraphy?”

“Haha, Lord Zhū, don’t overthink it. Please head home. I have no dishes to offer, so I won’t keep you for a meal.”

Zhū Yánxù said no more, cupping his hands in a bow. “Very well, Mister Jì, please remain seated. I shall take my leave. This inkstone…”

“Take it back.”

“Uh, alright!” Zhū Yánxù dared not insist further, fearing that excessive politeness might displease Jì Yuán. He picked up only the box containing the inkstone, leaving behind the pastries and wine. Then, accompanied by Jì Yuán, he reached the doorway.

“Mister Jì, you needn’t see me off. I shall head home now!”

“Very well, Lord Zhū, travel safely.”

“Yes!” Zhū Yánxù cupped his hands in a repeated bow, instinctively glanced at the area above the Small Pavilion's courtyard gate, then turned and walked outside. He couldn't quite articulate the feeling of the day, but dimly understood that this experience was beyond what an ordinary person could conceive.

At any rate, his visit today was absolutely worthwhile!