The day before Su Ming was set to depart, he made a special trip to the schoolhouse at the east end of the village.

Teacher Zhou was sitting under the old locust tree in the courtyard, holding a yellowed book in his hands, completely absorbed. Hearing the footsteps, he looked up, a hint of a smile appearing in his muddled eyes.

“You’ve come.”

“Teacher.” Su Ming bowed respectfully.

Teacher Zhou put down the book and gestured for Su Ming to sit on the small stone stool opposite him. He examined the youth before him—wearing clean, starched old cloth clothes, his posture straight, the childishness between his brows and eyes having faded somewhat, replaced by a touch of steadiness.

“Going to town?”

“Yes, I depart tomorrow. I’ve come specifically to bid you farewell.”

Teacher Zhou nodded, his gaze distant, as if seeing his own youthful shadow through Su Ming.

“Good, very good. When a young eagle grows up, it must always leave the nest to see how high the sky is.” He sighed, a touch of desolation in his voice. “The world outside is much bigger than this Su Family Village, and far more complex. People’s hearts are harder to fathom than the beasts in the mountains.”

He stood up, walked into the room filled with the scent of ink, and returned moments later holding a small inkstone. The edges of the inkstone were worn, clearly showing its age.

“This ‘Pine Grain Inkstone’ has been with me for half my life. It’s not considered a particularly fine item, but its stone is dense and firm, and it grinds ink quickly. Take it with you. A scholar’s writing brush is like a soldier’s sword and spear on the battlefield; keeping it sharpened is never a bad thing.”

Su Ming received it with both hands. The inkstone felt warm and smooth to the touch, still carrying the teacher’s body heat.

“Teacher, this is too valuable.”

“Take it.” Teacher Zhou waved his hand, his expression brooking no refusal. “This old bones of mine won’t last many more years. If you truly have the heart, in the future, if you pass the imperial examinations and gain scholarly honor, come back and repair this dilapidated courtyard for me. That would make it worthwhile.”

A warmth surged in Su Ming’s heart. He nodded heavily and carefully put the inkstone away.

“Your teachings, Teacher, this student will not dare forget.”

“Go on.” Teacher Zhou’s voice returned to its usual flatness. “Remember, you must study, but don’t become a fool from studying. In any situation, observe more, think more, speak less. Protecting yourself is more important than anything.”

Su Ming bowed deeply once more, then turned and left.

(Inner thoughts: “Huh, this old gentleman is pretty decent.”)

Lin Yu issued an approving comment from within the ring.

The next day, as the sky was just beginning to lighten.

Lanterns were already lit in the Su family courtyard.

Mrs. Chen, her eyes rimmed red, was stuffing things into Su Ming’s bundle over and over again.

“These flatbreads are for the road, eat them when you’re hungry. Take this padded jacket, it gets cold in the morning and evening… Once you get to town, don’t be stingy with spending money. If you run out of money, send a message back with someone, your mother will figure something out…”

She chattered on and on, as if trying to convey a lifetime’s worth of instructions in this single morning.

Wang Chuntao brought over a bowl of steaming hot egg noodles and shoved it into Su Ming’s hands. “Little Uncle, eat quickly, it’ll warm you up.”

Su Yang patted Su Ming’s shoulder, saying nothing, but hung a newly made, sturdy water skin on his belt.

Su Shan squatted on the threshold, puffing on his pipe tobacco one mouthful after another. The smoke curled and drifted, obscuring his expression. Only after Su Ming finished the noodles did he stand up, knocking the pipe bowl against the sole of his shoe.

“Once you’re away from home, don’t cause trouble, but don’t be afraid of trouble either. If someone bullies you…” He paused, his voice hoarse. “…avoid them. If it really comes to it, just come home.”

Su Ming nodded heavily. “Father, I’ll remember.”

Just as the family fell silent, Zhao Dequan’s voice came from outside the courtyard gate.

“Shanzi, is Xiao Ming ready?”

Zhao Dequan led Zhao Rui inside. Zhao Rui was also carrying a brand new, large book box on his back, his eyes similarly red-rimmed. Clearly, he too had just gone through a solemn farewell.

The Zhao family’s farewell ceremony was evidently far more elaborate than the Su family’s. Zhao Rui’s mother followed behind, carrying a food box, stuffing things into Zhao Rui’s arms nonstop.

“Rui’er, this is your favorite braised pork knuckle, eat it on the road! This bundle has a few newly made clothes, and forty taels of silver. Spend it carefully…”

Zhao Rui wore an impatient expression but didn’t push her away.

Zhao Dequan ignored his wife’s tearful sniffling. He walked up to Su Ming and patted his shoulder. “Xiao Ming, once you get to town, I’m entrusting Zhao Rui to your care.”

“Uncle Zhao, don’t worry.”

The mule cart was already waiting at the village entrance—still Old Qian’s familiar, creaking mule cart.

The moment of parting had finally arrived.

Mrs. Chen held Su Ming’s hand, tears finally overflowing. Su Ming grasped his mother’s hand in return and said softly, “Mother, I’ll be back after a while.”

He turned around, not daring to look into his mother’s eyes anymore, and strode towards the village entrance.

Zhao Rui also broke free from his mother’s embrace, keeping his head down as he followed behind.

Behind them stood the figures of their families, lingering for a long time, and that heavy, weighty concern.

The mule cart once again set out on the dirt road full of stones.

The atmosphere inside the carriage was even more stifling than last time. Zhao Rui huddled in the corner, hugging his new book box, not saying a word. The previous experience had clearly left him with significant shadows.

Su Ming still chose to walk alongside the cart.

“Disciple, how does it feel?” Lin Yu’s voice sounded lazily.

“What feeling?”

“The feeling of parting. Well? Do you feel the weight on your shoulders has increased, your heart filled with strength, wishing you could immediately pass the imperial exams as the top scholar and bring honor to your ancestors?”

Su Ming was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “I just feel that I cannot disappoint them.”

(Inner thoughts: “Not bad, not bad. Not swept away by inspirational talk. Clear goals, stable emotions. A promising seedling for doing great things… oh no, a promising seedling for living a long life.”)

This time, Old Qian deliberately took a detour.

Old Qian waved his whip, speaking with lingering fear. “We’ll take a dozen or so extra li of mountain road, detouring from the north. That path is harder to travel, but it’s said to be peaceful.”

Inside the cart, Zhao Rui visibly shuddered upon hearing the words “mountain hollow”.

Su Ming nodded, indicating his understanding. As he walked, he immersed himself in the cultivation of the Aura Concealment Art.

He no longer needed to deliberately search for that “warm sensation”. With a single thought, he could clearly perceive the dispersion of his own Yang Energy. He attempted to guide this warm current, making it no longer wantonly billow out like a mist, but instead gently, tenderly, draw inward and condense.

This process was more difficult than imagined.

It was like trying to gather a handful of fine sand with your palms; apply a little too much force, and the sand would slip through your fingers. He could only use the gentlest of intentions, like a spring breeze skimming the water’s surface, guiding that layer of warm “field” to slowly settle, press close to his skin, and merge into his flesh and blood.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep