Chapter 797: North Liang's Four Battles (5)

In Xijing, the Southern Dynasty's western capital, a grand mansion with thresholds so high that children had to clamber over them was bustling with visitors, carriages and horses forming a continuous stream.

The guests had come to celebrate the mansion's old patriarch becoming a centenarian. Few in Xijing lived to such an age, and none could compare to the old patriarch's esteemed reputation. Even high-ranking Xijing officials who had reached their seventies often didn't know the centenarian's true name, simply addressing him as "Elder Wang," while younger individuals called him "Old Master Wang." The Wang family was one of the Southern Dynasty's Tier B prominent clans. Although the family members two generations younger than Old Master Wang hadn't achieved much—producing only one Southern Dynasty Minister of Rites and two military commanders, two of whom had recently passed away—the old master's great-grandson had fortunately proven highly capable. He had risen from the lowest ranks of the Northern Barbarian military, becoming the Winter Nai Po, one of the Four Royal Tent Nai Po, purely through his genuine military merits. Following his marriage into a prestigious Tier A noble family from Longguan, the entire clan's standing was truly flourishing.

Today's birthday celebration was not entirely harmonious. The Longguan nobility, deeply entrenched local powers in the Northern Barbarian Southern Dynasty, had complex internal ties, including both marriages and long-standing feuds. Some were at odds with the Tier A noble family that had intermarried with the Wangs, whom they viewed as newcomers. Old Master Wang's centennial birthday thus became collateral damage, as someone brazenly sent a calligraphy scroll bearing only the four characters: "Long life, a hundred years."

Such blatant disrespect was unacceptable even to the visiting guests. Yet, Old Master Wang, smiling, personally accepted the scroll and even instructed his steward to give a monetary gift to the servant who had delivered it.

As a centenarian, Old Master Wang could not entertain guests for too long. After greeting some high-ranking Xijing officials and younger generations from allied families, he left the task of entertaining visitors to his nephew, who had served as Minister of Rites for sixteen years. The old man then returned to a quiet, elegant courtyard to rest. The courtyard, not small, was planted with dozens of extremely rare plum trees, which had inspired Old Master Wang to take the self-styled name "Wild Old Man of the Plum Grove."

In the bustling twilight outside, the old man had his servants bring a rattan chair under the plum trees. With the careful support of a pretty maid, he tremblingly lay down on the chair, which was padded with soft Shu silk brocade.

The young maid dared not leave, sitting on a small stool as was the custom. She deeply respected the old man, whose temper was unbelievably good. Since she had started serving in this courtyard, she had never once seen the old master lose his temper. She vividly recalled when she first began working there; one day, she was watching him nap in the inner room when someone outside accidentally broke a teacup. The light-sleeping old man woke immediately, terrifying her. Unexpectedly, he merely smiled and waved his hand, signaling her to pretend nothing had happened. Later, she learned that years ago, someone in the courtyard had been negligent, leading to several plum trees in the grove freezing to death one winter. The entire Wang family was furious and planned to administer family punishment, a hundred lashes of which would surely result in death. It was Old Master Wang who intervened, declaring that while there were many valuable things in the world, nothing was more precious than a human life. He stated that the loss of trees was not a big deal; he wouldn't live long enough to see new plum trees grow old anyway, so even withered ones were acceptable.

The old man lay quietly on the chair, looking at the sparse plum branches above him, and slowly spoke: "Chai Mi, little girl, summer is almost over now. In my hometown, there's a period called the 'plum rain season.' It's called that because it rains when the plums in Jiangnan are ripe and yellow. It's a beautiful name, isn't it? Only a scholar could come up with such a name. When I was young, I often recited proverbs I heard from elders; I didn't understand their meaning, but they flowed well: 'When the peach blossoms' water runs out, there will surely be a dry plum season,' and 'If rain hits the plum blossoms, there will be no sun for forty-five days.' Even now, reciting them feels easy on the tongue."

The maid, her face full of curiosity, softly asked, "Old Master, why do you like plum trees so much?"

The old man, usually disinclined to such lengthy conversations, steadied his breathing and smiled. "In my hometown, there are all sorts of customs and distinctions, some interesting, some not. Not only are people categorized into different ranks, but flowers are no exception. For instance, there are the wild willow catkins, the frivolous peach blossoms... and then there's the 'character' of the plum blossom."

The maid, who had little schooling due to her impoverished upbringing, whispered, "Character?"

Old Master Wang smiled. "When scholars compose poetry and prose, the best are those with upright language and noble spirit; they are said to have 'character.' The character of a scholar in their conduct is probably what the Confucian Sage Zhang referred to as, 'When poor, one perfects oneself; when successful, one benefits the world.' This is very difficult. I truly wanted to achieve it, but I couldn't. However, I did one thing better than many others: some people have no backbone themselves, so they can't stand to see others with character. Not only do they feel no shame, but they also spit on others or even try to trip them up. As for me, at the very least, I still possess the desire to emulate the virtuous."

The young maid quietly scratched her head, feeling a bit confused and not quite understanding.

Perhaps tired from speaking, the old man closed his eyes to rest.

Just then, faint footsteps were heard from the courtyard gate. The maid quickly turned to look and was momentarily stunned. Not only had Master Wang, who served as Minister of Rites but had never been destined for the Wang family patriarch's position, arrived, but as he entered the courtyard, he maintained a slight smile and a bowed posture, lagging half a step behind two unfamiliar men. When the maid looked up, her eyes immediately became fixated because the youngest woman among the three was simply too beautiful. Wang Xuanling, the "old guard" Minister of Rites of the Southern Dynasty court, slightly quickened his pace as he approached the rattan chair and softly said to the seemingly sleeping old master, "The Crown Prince has arrived."

The old master opened his eyes and was about to get up with the help of Wang Xuanling and the maid, Chai Mi, when the tall, middle-aged man quickly smiled and said, "Old Master Wang, there's no need for such formality; please remain seated. Yelu Hongcai came empty-handed this time, which is already a fault and disrespectful. It would be fortunate enough if the old master doesn't blame me."

Although the trembling Minister of Rites had already received a subtle signal from the Northern Barbarian Crown Prince, he still couldn't dissuade his old master's persistence. The old master stood up and, with great effort but utmost respect, bowed. The Crown Prince, who was making a private visit to the Wang family mansion, said helplessly, "Old Master, you're making Yelu Hongcai feel utterly ashamed. Please, sit, quickly."

The old man strained to sit upright on the rattan chair. Wang Xuanling and the courtyard maid each brought over a huanghuali chair. When the Minister saw that the beautiful woman had almost simultaneously sat down with His Royal Highness the Crown Prince, his eyelids immediately twitched.

The Northern Barbarian Crown Prince, who had rushed back to Xijing from the Tiger Head City battlefield, said amiably, "Old Master, you are renowned throughout the four seas as a literary master, a pure and virtuous gentleman whom even His Majesty praises without reservation. This time, I only heard about your centennial birthday at the last minute and rushed here. For a moment, I couldn't find a suitable birthday gift, so I had to visit empty-handed. I will certainly make it up to you later. I hope the old master will be magnanimous."

The old man chuckled heartily, "Your Royal Highness, you humble me greatly, you humble me greatly."

Wang Xuanling, who had been worried about any faux pas, breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He saw that Old Master Wang, who had spoken less and less over the years, was now in high spirits, his responses appropriate, and showed no signs of senility. He thought to himself, 'It's truly said that an elder in the family is like a treasure.' Given the situation, it seemed he, who was currently standing, might now have a chance to sit in the Minister's chair.

Although Yelu Hongcai was not favored by the great chieftains of the Northern Barbarian royal court, nor did many of the most powerful Northern Barbarian generals and commanders explicitly stand behind him, he was, after all, the legitimate first in line to the royal tent's succession. Among the Southern Dynasty remnants, who valued legitimacy most, a considerable number of nobles still favored Yelu Hongcai. The two former Grand Kings of the Northern and Southern Courts, Huang Songpu and Xu Huainan, had actually been very close to this gentle-tempered Crown Prince. However, with Xu Huainan's sudden death, Huang Songpu's resignation due to culpability, and the rise of a new generation of young generals like Dong Zhuo, Hong Jingyan, and Zhong Tan, Yelu Hongcai had become increasingly low-key.

Wang Xuanling, standing quietly and holding his breath, was certainly not foolish. His Royal Highness's discreet visit this time was half because of Wang Jingchong's status as Winter Nai Po, and half because his old master held considerable prestige among the Southern Dynasty remnants. Especially after the Wang family's marriage alliance with a Tier A noble family, they had touched the true core of the Southern Dynasty. This was unlike ordinary Tier B aristocratic families, who might appear influential and even have members serving as ministers or generals, but were in fact merely sycophants relying on the powerful Longguan magnates.

Wang Xuanling was suddenly overwhelmed with mixed emotions. This land beneath his feet—the Plum Grove Villa, the Wang family mansion, the entire city of Xijing, and indeed the entire Southern Dynasty—was specifically carved out as a haven by the awe-inspiring Old Matron Murong for the Spring and Autumn remnants who fled north during the Hongjia reign. Aside from that inexplicable bloody purge years ago, which eliminated many influential families who had relocated from various Central Plains states to the Southern Dynasty and struck fear into people's hearts, Empress Murong could largely be considered quite protective of them, the Southern Dynasty remnants. Any provocations by powerful northern clans who moved south would later incur significant, though perhaps not overly severe, punishment from the Yelu Royal Tent—certainly not negligible. The Wang family, to which Wang Xuanling belonged, for instance, though not historically a powerful Central Plains clan, had nonetheless maintained the status of "Ten Generations of Hanlin scholars." Yet, they had endured thousands of miles of exile, leaving their homes, practically worse off than stray dogs scrounging for food in the mud. How could they have imagined becoming court officials dressed in yellow and purple robes once more in the Southern Dynasty?

Yelu Hongcai's face suddenly darkened, and he said in a low voice, "Old Master, I just heard about that calligraphy scroll. That Second Clan of Longguan is truly being unreasonable! When I return to the royal tent on the grasslands, I will personally speak to His Majesty about this. There is absolutely no reason for the old master to suffer such a great injustice!"

The old man smiled and gently waved his hand. "No matter, no matter. Regardless of its underlying meaning, as for the calligraphy itself, it's no exaggeration to say in our Southern Dynasty that it's worth a thousand pieces of gold per character. Though unsigned, it's clearly written by Yu Liang, one of the four great calligraphers in the world today. This old servant still has that much discernment. It truly lives up to the description 'strokes like dragon claws emerging from clouds, full of bone and stone-like strength.' Without being the military and armor advisor whom even the Liyang literary circle admires, one could never achieve such artistic conception. Besides, this old servant has managed to live to such an age, it's time to act a bit on my seniority. Many things can naturally be dismissed as innocent remarks and simply laughed off. Ancient poetry and texts often speak of 'life is but a hundred years'; this 'but' truly conveys it well. What does it matter if this old servant doesn't make it past that? So, Your Highness, please don't dwell on this matter. It's better to treat it as after-dinner conversation than to get angry."

Hearing these words from the old man, the haughty and aloof woman seemed somewhat surprised as well; it was the first time she truly looked at the Wang family's old master.

Yelu Hongcai laughed heartily, "The birthday celebrant is the most important; I'll listen to the old master."

As the old man smiled, he subtly glanced at Wang Xuanling. The latter, despite being a man in his sixties, still looked like a child who had made a mistake in front of the old master, and immediately stammered nervously, "It wasn't your nephew's loose tongue..."

Yelu Hongcai quickly explained, "Old Master, it has nothing to do with Minister Wang; I heard it myself."

The old man smiled, "In this courtyard, Your Highness is the most important, so this old servant will listen to Your Highness."

Yelu Hongcai smiled knowingly. A seemingly simple joke and casual remark caused the Crown Prince to swallow many prepared thoughts. Since the timing was right, adding more fuel would only be counterproductive.

They then chatted about poetry, calligraphy, and painting, without a single mention of state affairs. Yelu Hongcai, seeing Old Master Wang's unconcealed fatigue, rose to take his leave. Of course, he would not allow the old man to stand up to see him off and was accompanied out of the courtyard by Minister Wang, who had been longing for the Minister's position for many years.

The maid named Chai Mi secretly patted her chest. "So it was His Royal Highness the Crown Prince in person!" she thought. "I couldn't tell at all; he put on no airs."

Old Master Wang, now lying back in the rattan chair with his eyes closed, was gently tapping the armrest with one hand.

Chai Mi tiptoed to fetch a round fan and gently fanned a breeze for the old master.

The light breeze caressed his face, further diminishing the already mild late-summer heat.

A smile appeared on the old man's face, and he murmured to himself, "Calmly seated amidst mountains and seas, counting on fingers, a thousand years have passed in the world."

The maid dared not speak.

She only sincerely hoped that this centenarian could live another hundred years.

The old man fell silent. After an unknown period, he spoke, "Chai Mi, if your hand gets tired, stop fanning."

The maid smiled, "Old Master, don't worry, I can still fan for a while longer."

Old Master Wang said softly, "While I'm feeling well today, I want to talk more with you, my girl."

The maid carefully asked, "Aren't you tired, Old Master?"

The old man smiled, "Not yet."

The maid quietly glanced towards the courtyard gate. "Then Old Master, please speak as much as you like," she said, "I'm listening."

The old man slowly said, "Little girl, let me tell you, it's best not to marry a scholar in the future, especially a talented one. If their talent is too abundant, it's easy for them to apply it to many women; their minds are most fickle and can't settle on one woman. This year they might be lovers under the flowers and moon, but next year they might be with another woman. Marry an honest person. It's not that there are no honest scholars, there are, but they are too few. Like this old man, when I was young, I was exactly this kind of heartless scholar. By the time I truly settled down, it was already too late."

The young girl stopped fanning, covering her mouth to hide a giggle.

The old man smiled, "Don't believe it? If you don't listen to an old person's words, you'll suffer later."

The young girl quickly said, "I believe, I believe!"

The old man teased, "Answering so quickly, it's clear you haven't really taken it to heart. Little girl, you still don't believe me."

The young girl wrinkled her small face.

The old man shook his wrist. "Go on," he said, "go back to the room to rest. Let this old man be alone for a while. Come back after two sticks of incense have burned down."

The young girl hummed in acknowledgment and, carrying the small stool, went to sit under the eaves. Not too far, not too close, she couldn't hear the old man speaking, but she could clearly see the plum tree and the rattan chair.

The old man was not actually talking to himself.

He simply looked a bit melancholic.

In a blink of an eye, the Spring and Autumn homeland was gone. In a blink of an eye, cherished teachers and close friends had all passed away. In a blink of an eye, twenty years had passed in a foreign land. In another blink, I am a hundred years old.

Then the young girl watched a scene in shock: the frail old man, flickering like a candle in the wind, tried to stand up. As if knowing she was about to go help, the old man did not turn his head, but waved his hand at her.

The old man finally managed to stand up with great difficulty and gazed blankly up at the plum tree's branches and leaves.

The old man smiled.

Mr. Li, Mr. Nalan.

The character of us Central Plains scholars, I, Wang Du, have not lost it.