Chapter 24

In the town of Zhangjia, inside the Zhang residence.

A low, small building, with two lanterns emitting a faint yellow glow. Ning Wuxue, guided by Uncle Fu, walked in. This was the study of the Zhang residence.

Before Ning Wuxue was a carved desk, on which stood a "mountain" shaped pen stand, holding about five or six brushes of various sizes. Beside it was an inkstone, with an ink stick standing next to it. A brazier emitted a gentle stream of incense smoke, and behind it was a sheet of paper.

A middle-aged man with a somewhat prosperous appearance was writing with a brush, dressed in a simple, elegant robe, his hair tied with a headband. He was spirited and extremely focused, seemingly unaware of Ning Wuxue's entrance. His brush moved like a dragon, dancing across the white paper.

This man was the master of the Zhang residence, surnamed Zhang, with the given name Kun, and the courtesy name Yuan Tai. To speak of it, Zhang Yuan Tai and Ning Feng were old acquaintances; they had both gone to the state capital to take the prefectural examination, but the results were different. Zhang Yuan Tai passed with high honors, while Ning Feng failed.

Two maidservants stood in the study. Seeing Ning Wuxue enter, they were about to speak, but Ning Wuxue quickly placed his right index finger to his lips, signaling them to be quiet. The maidservants, being clever, knew that their master was most averse to being disturbed when he was writing after burning incense and bathing, so they said no more.

Ning Wuxue stood to one side, not interrupting, and quietly watched the characters on the paper come to life.

Lifting the brush, the man stepped back, gazing at his work with a satisfied smile.

Though the divine tortoise may live long, it still has its end.

The flying snake, riding the mist, will eventually turn to dust.

The old horse, though tethered, still dreams of a thousand miles.

The valiant hero, in his old age, does not abandon his lofty aspirations.

The span of life, though limited, is not solely determined by heaven.

By cultivating a peaceful and contented life, one can achieve longevity.

How fortunate, to sing and express one's aspirations.

Ning Wuxue slowly recited the poem on the paper, his voice rising and falling. Looking at the elegant and graceful handwriting, he clapped his hands in praise: "What a fine poem, what excellent calligraphy! The old horse, though tethered, still dreams of a thousand miles. Mr. Zhang, though not yet forty, has great ambitions and a promising future ahead..."

The sudden voice startled Zhang Yuan Tai, who turned his head and saw Ning Wuxue standing beside him. Zhang Yuan Tai, being a wise man, quickly calmed down after his initial surprise and placed the brush on the inkstone.

"Are you Ning Zhongyuan?" Zhang Yuan Tai asked.

Pressing the still wet calligraphy with a wooden board, Zhang Yuan Tai sat down on a chair. One maidservant handed him a towel to wipe his hands, while the other brought him a cup of tea. Their movements were skilled, clearly not their first time serving Zhang Yuan Tai.

"Zhongyuan pays his respects to Mr. Zhang." Ning Wuxue bowed and stood respectfully.

Taking a sip of tea, Zhang Yuan Tai sized up Ning Wuxue and smiled with satisfaction. He looked at his calligraphy and asked, "Does Zhongyuan also enjoy the Prime Minister's poetry?"

In the library of Baiyun Temple, Ning Wuxue had learned that in this era, Cao Cao was highly respected, not the "villain" or "tyrant" as he was known in later times. Prime Minister Cao Cao was not only a political figure but also a great poet, who pioneered the Jian'an literary style and was one of the Seven Sages of Jian'an.

"Prime Minister is a great man. His poem 'Turtle Though Long in Years' is full of vigor and grandeur. Although you are not the Prime Minister, your calligraphy of his poem is grand and powerful, a true masterpiece." Ning Wuxue praised, cleverly flattering Zhang Yuan Tai.

Zhang Yuan Tai smiled happily, "Exactly. Prime Minister Cao Cao unified the Three Kingdoms, repelled the Xiongnu, and dedicated himself to the prosperity of our nation, with a spirit that inspires us all."

Zhang Yuan Tai had already been quite interested in Ning Wuxue, and now, with their shared interests, he was even more pleased. "Young Master Ning is so well-learned; you have a good chance of ranking in the top three in the county examination. Zhangjia Town will soon have another scholar."

Ning Wuxue didn't care much about becoming a scholar and smiled. Zhang Yuan Tai, seeing this, thought Ning Wuxue was simply very confident. However, he was also a proud man and believed that scholars should have a sense of pride, so he was not offended.

"Chunlan, fetch fifty taels of silver and give it to Young Master Ning." Zhang Yuan Tai glanced at the maidservant and, before Ning Wuxue could refuse, added, "Zhongyuan, do not refuse. I may not be the Prime Minister, but I am not a pedantic man. I have enough silver to spend, and giving some away can bring good fortune. Fifty taels of silver is not much."

Ning Wuxue opened his mouth, fifty taels of silver—what did that mean? In this era, one tael of silver could cover a poor family's expenses for half a year. Zhang Yuan Tai was truly a generous man. In other words, he was someone with more money than he knew what to do with.

"Thank you, Mr. Zhang." Ning Wuxue bowed respectfully.

Zhang Yuan Tai nodded, looked outside, and saw that it was already dark. He stood up and said, "We will go to the county tomorrow. Young Master Ning, please go rest. A maidservant will come to wake you early tomorrow."

"Qiujun, show Young Master Ning to the guest room."

"Yes, sir." The remaining maidservant responded brightly and looked at Ning Wuxue, "Young Master Ning, please follow me."

Ning Wuxue bowed to Zhang Yuan Tai and left the study, following the maidservant named Qiujun through the winding corridors. The Zhang residence was vast, almost like a small garden, with occasional servants carrying lanterns passing by.

They arrived at a dark house. A gust of cold wind suddenly blew, causing the lantern hanging outside the house to sway. The maidservant shivered and muttered, "It's almost spring, yet it's still so cold?"

Ning Wuxue stopped and looked into the dark house, frowning.

"Sir, what's wrong? That house used to be the ancestral hall of the Zhang residence, but it has been abandoned for some reason. It's quite eerie, sir. Let's go, staying here is scary."

Qiujun stuck out her tongue, glanced fearfully at the dark house, and quickly left.

Ning Wuxue retracted his gaze and followed the maidservant to the guest room.

At that moment, a gust of cold wind blew, opening the door of the ancestral hall. The wind howled, and in the dark house, a pair of eyes filled with resentment and hatred stared fixedly at the direction Ning Wuxue had left.

Ning Wuxue, walking on the path, felt a chill on his back, turned his head, and met the gaze of those eyes. After a moment, Ning Wuxue smiled warmly, turned around, and disappeared into the night.

Qiujun led Ning Wuxue to a courtyard and left. Inside were three guest rooms. Ning Wushuang and Ning Bo Wu were devouring food, with three roasted chickens and a few dishes of vegetables on the table. Seeing Ning Wuxue return, they quickly called out to him.

"This was sent by Uncle Fu. Uncle Fu is a good man," Ning Wushuang said, his mouth full of chicken, genuinely grateful.

Ning Bo Wu, with his mouth stuffed with food, grabbed another chicken leg and stuffed it in.

Their eating manners were truly those of country bumpkins.

Ning Wuxue sighed and joined Ning Wushuang and Ning Bo Wu. If he didn't act quickly, these two would leave him with nothing but chicken bones.