After leaving Hunter Zhang's house, Wen Chaoshen trudged alone through the ankle-deep snow, his hand holding the letter trembling constantly.
It wasn't because of the cold.
The first ti he visited Lü Zhiming's residence, Madam Lü had given him so thick clothes. They didn't fit perfectly, but they were more than enough to keep out the cold.
The reason his hand was shaking was fear.
Observing the leaves, one can predict autumn.
Wen Chaoshen had a vague thought that the letter in his hand might be connected to a major event with far-reaching implications.
These matters concerned everyone, from the court to the common people.
In the swirling cold wind and snow, two mories kept flashing through Wen Chaoshen's mind—those of A Shui and Cheng Feng.
...
"What I want to know is, even though my parents died five years ago, why have I been receiving letters from them all these years, saying... they're doing well."
...
"Your calligraphy is truly masterful. If you ventured to the Royal City, you'd at least be a renowned calligrapher. Why are you languishing in this tiny, impoverished place?"
...
"I'd rather not write so well."
...
"Do you want to know why?"
"...It's all in these nine characters."
...
These conversations kept echoing in Wen Chaoshen's mind. He didn't even wait to return to the county city; he took out the characters Cheng Feng had given him at the South Gate.
"Forget ho, a word, a century in the mortal world... a word, a century... What secret is hidden within?"
In the snow, Wen Chaoshen stared at those nine characters for a long ti. When dusk finally overtook the snow's brightness, he was frozen stiff and finally snapped back to reality. He put away the characters and headed into the county city, going to the small courtyard next to Lü Zhiming's.
Lü Zhiming told Wen Chaoshen that the neighboring courtyard was ancestral property of Fan Youwei, the master of Lord Dog. After Fan Youwei left, Lü Zhiming continued to pay the property tax every year, so the house hadn't been reclaid by the authorities. If Wen Chaoshen wished, he could find an empty room there to stay.
As for Fan Youwei's mother, she had passed away the year he disappeared, and Lü Zhiming had helped with the funeral and burial.
Pushing open the courtyard door, Wen Chaoshen imdiately saw Lord Dog lying under the eaves in a woolen house.
After Fan Youwei went into the mountains and never returned, the black dog stopped entering his house. One winter morning, Lü Zhiming noticed Lord Dog hadn't co to his door for food, so he went next door and found the black dog nearly frozen to death under the eaves. Fortunately, he managed to save it, though large patches of its fur had fallen off, making it look like it had a skin disease.
Later, Lü Zhiming simply built a windproof and snowproof doghouse for the black dog, placing it at the entrance of Fan Youwei's residence.
Seeing soone enter, Lord Dog lifted its head. Upon realizing it was Wen Chaoshen, it relaxed and buried its head back into the woolen house, closing its eyes to rest.
Wen Chaoshen closed the courtyard door and went to an empty side room. Inside, a lamp was burning, its light dimd by the window paper. Wen Chaoshen assud Lü Zhiming had left it for him, so he pushed the door open and entered, only to find A Shui sitting by the bed, poking the firewood in the brazier with tongs, waves of heat emanating.
Warmth filled the corners of the room, finally easing Wen Chaoshen's frozen hands and feet.
"Where did you go?" A Shui asked casually.
Wen Chaoshen glanced at her, turned to close the door, and paced the room twice, his voice trembling slightly:
"A Shui, I want to ask you... were you a soldier before?"
The tongs in A Shui's hand paused, her eyes slightly lifted, a stone cast into the lake of her eyes, causing ripples to rise.
But the mont she t Wen Chaoshen's gaze, A Shui shifted her eyes away, lazily asking:
"Why ask so suddenly?"
Wen Chaoshen rummaged in his sleeve and handed A Shui the letter he got from Mi Fang. She shifted slightly, using the brazier's light to examine the letter's contents.
After a mont, she said:
"A letter from a soldier to his parents, just so simple greetings, nothing unusual."
"Does this have anything to do with your earlier question?"
Wen Chaoshen stared intently at A Shui:
"Didn't you notice anything odd?"
She rolled her eyes:
"Are you going to tell or not?"
"If not, I'm going to sleep."
Wen Chaoshen helplessly sat beside A Shui, pointing at the handwriting:
"The letter's owner should have been a soldier."
"This handwriting doesn't look like it was written by a soldier. Even if so people naturally have neat handwriting, the sense of privilege and scholarly air in these words can't be faked."
"So, this letter, like the ones supposedly from your parents, is fake."
ntioning her parents, A Shui's expression subtly changed.
She scrutinized the letter again, and under Wen Chaoshen's guidance, she indeed noticed sothing.
"Is there more?"
She asked.
Wen Chaoshen continued:
"I don't know... I t soone before, a master of calligraphy, but unknown, not making money from it, even sold a character for four coins."
He paused and added:
"I know, for ordinary people, four coins for a character is outrageous, considering the effort and skill needed to write... But trust my judgnt, I'm quite knowledgeable about calligraphy. Though he seed downcast, he was definitely a master. If he went to any prosperous capital in Qi Kingdom, he'd surely make a na for himself."
"A word worth a thousand gold, in a country that respects Confucianism, isn't just talk."
A Shui glanced at him:
"Aren't you a refugee? How do you know so much?"
Wen Chaoshen shook his head:
"I'm a refugee, but I'm not deaf or blind."
"Back to that person... he seed trapped by sothing, even said he'd rather not write so well. Honestly, before I ca back, my mind was filled with conversations with him, and I don't even know why."
"I feel like all these strange things happening lately are sohow interconnected."
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