Echoes of My Heart Throughout the Court

Chapter 231: Did I… accidentally stumble into a battlefield? (2 / 2)

Within Ji Sui’s residence, only a select few scholars from the ancient and modern script schools knew that the two leaders had begun a fierce war of words.

Ji Sui had forgotten his recent days of worry and his concerns over his granddaughter. He was entirely absorbed, dissecting the classics line by line, debating fiercely with the ancient script scholars. One moment he was quoting the Book of Songs, the next he had moved on to Rites of Zhou. From the nuanced meanings of the Spring and Autumn Annals to cosmic principles and human affairs, from the teachings of Confucius and Mencius to the criticism of ancient texts being too detached from governance, he spared no topic.

On the other hand, Quan Yingzhang was equally relentless, lambasting the modern script school for using textual studies as a tool of governance, accusing them of betraying the true spirit of Confucius and Mencius, thereby leading thought into a dead end.

Round after round of heated debate unfolded, with one side overwhelming the other, only to be overturned in the next.

By the time the moon had risen high, and they had no choice but to end the debate, Ji Sui’s home was left in utter disarray—signs of overturned tables and smashed bowls everywhere.

Ji Sui picked up a bowl of hot tea from a desk newly marked by sword strokes and sipped it leisurely. “I won’t see you out.”

Quan Yingzhang, leading his faction of ancient script scholars, kicked aside a fruit platter on the floor, stepped over shredded paper, and cracked a pen shaft that was already broken further with a resounding “snap.”

Just as he was about to leave, he paused at the doorway. Without turning around, he said in his aged but steady voice:

“Ji Sui, you are the most talented man I have ever met.”

Ji Sui: “…”

He remained silent for a moment, exhaling only after two or three breaths. It was unclear whether he was being sincere or dismissive when he replied:

“I’ve merely been organizing my future plans at home.”

Quan Yingzhang also fell silent.

But not for long.

Breaking from his usual composed demeanor, he erupted into a string of curses: “You lowly rats! I’m ashamed to have debated with the likes of you!”

[Wow! Old Master Quan’s really flying into a rage! What a proud old man!]

Quan Yingzhang suddenly spun around, only to see a familiar head popping up over Ji Sui’s wall. Who knew how long it had been there, eavesdropping.

Thinking back, he realized there had indeed been some strange noises during the debate, but both sides had been too engrossed to pay attention.

“You little brat! Why are you everywhere?!”

A proud old man, indeed—though he didn’t know what the term meant, just hearing the word “proud” paired with “man” gave him the distinct impression that the rascal had been mocking him in his mind.

[Oops, busted.]

[Should’ve run as soon as the debate ended.]

Xu Yanmiao quickly climbed down from the wall, walked to the main gate, and entered the courtyard. He greeted respectfully:

“Master Quan. I happened to overhear a debate on ancient versus modern script while passing by. I couldn’t resist drawing near to enjoy such a grand literary feast.”

Quan Yingzhang gave him a sidelong glance.

He didn’t expose him—after all, how could a brat who couldn’t even remember the Analects properly savor a “grand literary feast”? Clearly, he was just here for the entertainment!

But the word “proud” still lingered in Quan Yingzhang’s mind, leaving him silently fuming. Now, no matter how he looked at this kid, everything about him seemed annoying.

Immediately, he sneered, “Since you’re so free, have you prepared your answers for the imperial exams? Will you be using Spring and Autumn Annals or Mencius? But whatever you choose, don’t forget—it’s not just about rote memorization or skimming the surface. You need to know the names of people and places, be familiar with the allusions, remember the idioms, and understand the meanings of the characters. Don’t embarrass yourself by, say, reading Yang Huo and mistaking it for Yang Feng.”

—For context, Yang Huo is a person’s name.

Yang Feng, well… it refers to the “wind” post-castration.

However, this mix of sarcasm and ridicule fell on the ears of the young scholar like heartfelt advice. Xu Yanmiao earnestly responded, “Thank you for your guidance, Master Quan! I’ll be sure to thoroughly study the classics and their interpretations!”

Quan Yingzhang was momentarily speechless.

It brought back memories of the time when Xu Yanmiao had come to persuade him to come out of retirement. Back then, every sentence had been punctuated with phrases like “Master Quan is absolutely correct” and “Master Quan is truly talented.” The memory of being rendered speechless by such sincerity resurfaced, making his chest tighten.

[Master Quan is truly a good man!]

Not only did Xu Yanmiao say it aloud, but he also felt it deeply in his heart.

Quan Yingzhang: “…”

He could hear the stifled laughter of his ungrateful disciples and followers.

A bunch of little rascals!

Seeing Xu Yanmiao still waiting for him to speak, looking expectant and full of trust, Quan Yingzhang reluctantly added, “No need to thank me. Also, you need to study the annotations and interpretations as well…”

Wait a moment—annotations and interpretations?!

Xu Yanmiao had never seen such an enthusiastic expression on Quan Yingzhang’s face before.

Blinking in confusion, he stammered, “M-Master Quan?”

At that moment, Quan Yingzhang resembled a patient and cunning hunter, carefully treading through the forest, mindful not to step on any branches that might scare the rabbit away. “Little Bai Ze—ahem—Xu lad, your understanding of the classics and their annotations is likely still superficial, isn’t it? Without proper guidance, it’s difficult to fully grasp the allusions and interpretations. How about this—I’ll personally tutor you on these during this period?”

[Huh?]

The expressions of the modern script school officials immediately shifted.

Meanwhile, the ancient script school officials visibly perked up, their excitement unmistakable.

Master Quan is a true strategist!

If this plan worked, Xu Yanmiao might favor the ancient script school in his essays for the imperial exams, providing the faction with a promising new talent!

Xu Yanmiao blinked and was about to speak when the sound of a door opening caught his attention. He turned his head and saw Master Ji rushing out, tea cup still in hand, as if he had forgotten to set it down.

“Xu Yanmiao!” Ji called out sharply. Before he could say anything more, Quan Yingzhang planted his cane firmly on the ground with a loud thud and stepped in front of Xu Yanmiao, completely shielding him from view.

Under the moonlight, in the unusually spacious courtyard, Ji Sui and Quan Yingzhang locked eyes. A strange sense of tension began to rise.

[What’s happening?]

[Did I… accidentally stumble into a battlefield?]

Xu Yanmiao looked utterly confused.

“Ancient texts never differentiated between wheat (xiaomai) and barley (daimai).”

— Annotations to the Shuowen Jiezi