EMHTC -Chapter 114 Did I… accidentally stumble into a battlefield?

In the courtyard, the breeze carried the fragrance of plum blossoms, filling the entire garden with their scent.

A cat and a dog playfully darted through the fence, and a plump rooster clucked noisily.

The elegant and the mundane coexisted. In Ji Sui’s plum garden, Qin Zheng’s chickens would sometimes wander in. As Ji Sui played the qin, the chickens would cluck in response, creating a comical scene. Not long after, the flustered maidservants hired by Qin Zheng would rush in to carry the chickens away. Qin Zheng clearly wanted nothing to do with Ji Sui.

All of this took place far away in Luzhou.

—Ji Sui was the governor of Luzhou.

Now, however, Ji Sui was lying in his old residence in the capital, wrapped in thick blankets, staring blankly at the canopy above.

Just moments ago, Qin Zheng had come to see him, her footsteps unusually light—steps he had never heard before. What followed was more than a mere conversation; in Ji Sui’s perception, it felt more like a declaration.

His granddaughter had told him that she had found her own path. She planned to help the Crown Prince recover his health and carve out a free and independent future for herself.

Ji Sui… fell silent.

For the first time, he realized that Qin Zheng… might not need him to plan out every detail of her life.

—She could live well on her own.

Ji Sui remained secluded in the residence for three days, shutting himself off from external affairs.

On the fourth day, Quan Yizhang came knocking.

Though already eighty-eight years old, the elder still walked with vigor, supported by a cane but radiating energy with every step. His eyes lit up with sharpness as he entered and spotted Ji Sui, who looked despondent. Raising an eyebrow, Quan Yizhang let out a cold, abrupt laugh. “I take it you’ve already heard about the claim that Mao’s version of the Book of Songs is a forgery?”

The Book of Songs now had four recognized versions. The ancient script versions—Qi, Lu, and Han—were written in archaic characters, while the modern script version, Mao’s Book of Songs, was transcribed in contemporary characters and had become the most widely accepted.

The leaders of the ancient script school, however, had recently declared Mao’s Book of Songs a forgery—a move clearly aimed at undermining the foundation of the modern script school.

Ji Sui, who had been lifeless until now, suddenly raised his head. His gaze at Quan Yizhang turned sharp, like a bolt of lightning slicing through the sky.

He dusted off his sleeves, stood up, and spoke slowly and deliberately, “Oh? Do tell me in detail.”

The atmosphere instantly became tense and combative.

Behind Quan Yizhang stood several scholars of the ancient script school. Their eyes were fixed on Ji Sui, a mix of wariness and amusement.

—After all, Ji Sui had been dealt a heavy blow by recent family and official matters. Even if he managed to pull himself together, what could he really accomplish?

At that moment, voices came from the doorway. “Lord Ji!!!”

Ji Sui looked over and saw a group of officials from the modern script school stumbling in, looking utterly disheveled. Their expressions clearly showed they had been thoroughly humiliated.

Ji Sui narrowed his eyes slightly. “Speak. What happened?”

One of the officials stepped forward, hastily organizing his words. “Lord Ji, regarding the phrase ‘Bestowing upon me millet (lai mou),’ is the use of the character ‘lai’ incorrect? The modern script interpretation holds that ‘lai’ is interchangeable with ‘wheat (mai).’ However, the ancient script school recently argued that the character for ‘mai’ (wheat) has the component ‘夂’ below it, which depicts a foot facing downward. How could wheat grow feet? Thus, in ancient times, the character for ‘mai’ must have represented ‘walking.’ Therefore, they claim, ‘lai’ could never be interchangeable with ‘mai.’”

This argument essentially asserted that the modern script school’s interpretation of the Book of Songs was flawed.

Ji Sui’s brow furrowed instinctively.

The choice of words from this official suggested that many within the modern script school were beginning to accept the notion that “‘lai’ cannot be interchangeable with ‘mai.’”

This… was not good.

The interpretation of chapters and annotations has always been the cornerstone of the modern script school. If they couldn’t refute this argument, it was likely that many disciples of the modern script school would either lose their scholarly resolve or switch to studying the ancient script school.

But where could the rebuttal come from?

Quan Yizhang stood to the side, leaning on his cane, patiently waiting. In truth, however, he didn’t think Ji Sui could come up with a response—or at least, not in a short amount of time.

Ji Sui didn’t rush to speak. His brows furrowed deeper and deeper, a crease forming between them.

The officials from the modern script school fixed their eyes on Ji Sui, hope gleaming in their gazes.

After a brief silence, Ji Sui let out a low chuckle and ordered, “Bring me paper and a brush.”

“Yes, sir!!!”

The modern script officials, barely containing their excitement, hurriedly fetched paper and a brush.

Now it was Quan Yizhang’s turn to frown.

His aged hand gripped the handle of his cane tightly, his demeanor tense, much like a cat on the verge of bristling.

Ji Sui wrote the character “來 (lai)” on the paper and said aloud, “The character ‘來’ carries the form of grains (he mai). The two ‘人’ shapes on either side represent the drooping stalks of wheat.”

Quan Yizhang sneered, “If that’s the case, doesn’t it further prove that the character ‘來’ symbolized grains in ancient times? This still fails to prove that the character ‘麥’ represented grains back then. Ji, are you planning to abandon the modern script school and join us in the ancient script school?”

Ji Sui acted as if he hadn’t heard the mocking remark. Instead, he calmly wrote the character “麥 (mai)” beside it.

Then, in an unhurried tone, he explained:

“In the Book of Songs, Great Elegance (Daya), it is written: ‘Bestowing upon us excellent seeds.’ This line clearly states that fine grains are a blessing bestowed by the heavens. What is given by the heavens, and the character ‘麥’ (mai), with its top part symbolizing grains (he mai) and its bottom part ‘夂’ representing a foot facing downward—does this not reflect the idea of grains ‘falling from the heavens’? Thus, the character ‘麥’ indeed represents grains and not walking.”

The officials of the ancient script school turned pale. They hadn’t expected Ji Sui to find a way to counter their argument so decisively.

Ji Sui continued his rebuttal.

“Master Quan, it seems you haven’t even fully studied the Book of Songs,” he said with a playful, arrogant smile. “Instead of nitpicking over annotations, perhaps you should go home and study how many ways there are to write the character ‘回’.”

The officials from the modern script school exchanged glances, their faces lighting up with joy and relief.

One by one, the officials gazed at Ji Sui with eyes full of unhidden admiration and longing.

“Master Ji!!!”

The moon encircled by towering mountains!!!

The ancient script scholars couldn’t help but let their eyes drift toward their “moon.”

Quan Yizhang’s mind, however, remained startlingly calm.

Lines of annotations flashed rapidly through his thoughts, while different interpretations of characters surged forth in his mind like sparks.

The solution to breaking this impasse was…

Right here!

“Heaven? Do you mean Heaven as in the divine?” Quan Yizhang tapped his cane firmly on the ground and looked at Ji Sui with a composed expression. “How laughable.”

“Take, for instance, the Mao Edition of the Book of Songs, which discusses the hymn Suwen (Thoughtful Wen) in the Zhou Hymns. It explicitly describes the music of ‘Hou Ji worshipping Heaven.’ The line ‘Thoughtful Wen Hou Ji, befitting the heavens’ clearly identifies ‘heaven’ as the Emperor. This ‘lai’ in mai cong tian lai (grains come from Heaven) shouldn’t mean the ‘arrival’ of grains, but rather the ‘granting’ or ‘bestowal’ of grains (lai as in lai 賚). Thus, it’s not that grains come from the heavens, but that they are bestowed by Hou Ji, who symbolizes Heaven’s will.”

Now it was Ji Sui’s turn to tense his facial muscles.

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 Yizhang 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 Yizhang, 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.”

—You shouldn’t let yourself fall into obscurity like this.

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 Yizhang 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 Yizhang 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 Yizhang 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 Yizhang’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 Yizhang 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 Yizhang: “…”

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 Yizhang 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 Yizhang’s face before.

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

At that moment, Quan Yizhang resembled a patient and cunning hunter, carefully treading through the forest, mindful not to step on any branches that might scare the rabbit away. “Xiao Baize—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 Yizhang 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 Yizhang 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.