Chapter Twenty-One: The Literary Gathering

“Young man, you possess such remarkable strength at a tender age—do you have any secret methods?” Li Zhihe asked, his anticipation evident.

He cared little for other matters, but anything pertaining to martial arts held his unwavering fascination.

“It might have something to do with the techniques I practice,” Yi An replied ambiguously.

His words were not untrue; he cultivated immortality arts rather than martial arts techniques.

“I see.” Li Zhihe’s expression fell slightly in disappointment upon hearing this. If it was a matter of cultivation methods, there was nothing to borrow. Unless he were willing to abandon his own martial techniques—forsaking all his accumulated skill—he could not switch to another path. But such an exchange would be a fruitless pursuit, sacrificing the essence for the superficial.

“Martial arts all lead to the same destination. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you’re welcome to seek me out,” Yi An said.

Seeing that Li Zhihe was a straightforward man, Yi An didn’t mind forging a friendly connection, especially since they would be sharing the same roof for some time to come.

“Many thanks, young brother. I’m a rough fellow and not good with words. If I’ve offended you before, please don’t hold it against me. If you ever need anything, just say the word. My abilities may not be great, but I do have some connections here in Hangzhou,” Li Zhihe said, his delight unmistakable.

Though Yi An was younger, martial artists were not bound by such trivialities. As the saying goes, the accomplished are as teachers. To receive guidance from someone at the innate stage was the dream of countless practitioners—much like scholars seeking advice from Wei Liang.

“Thank you for your kindness, Brother Li,” Yi An replied.

“Rest well, and if you lack anything, just let me know. I’m staying in the west wing,” Li Zhihe pointed out the location, bid Yi An farewell, and departed.

Yi An surveyed his surroundings and found them quite pleasant—a tranquil spot within the city.

...

Unbeknownst to him, two months had already passed.

During this time, Yi An was busy, with hardly a moment to spare.

---

Every morning and evening, he cultivated, following the circulation of the Minor Heavenly Cycle as described in the Daoist Sutra, gathering the essence of sun and moon, strengthening his true qi, refining it to greater purity.

Most of his remaining hours were devoted to studying the classics. Under Wei Liang’s patient guidance, his skills had improved greatly.

According to Wei Liang, though Yi An still had much to learn, his current standard was sufficient to face next month’s provincial exam.

In Yanbei, the imperial examination focused on essays drawn from the classics. The questions were often a single phrase—or even a single character—from the texts.

Therefore, to shine on the path of the imperial examination, one must possess deep insight and unique understanding of the classics. The notes Wei Liang had passed to Yi An contained his own interpretations and insights.

Yi An had long struggled with certain passages, but after reading Wei Liang’s notes, everything became clear.

Only now did Yi An realize the true value of those notebooks. No wonder so many sought to become Wei Liang’s disciples. If the notes alone were so powerful, obtaining his true teachings would be endlessly beneficial.

Moreover, Yi An found that since establishing his foundation, his mind was clear and sharp, and he could virtually memorize the classics at a glance.

...

“Gentle and sincere, yet not foolish—such is the depth of the poetry. Broad and far-reaching, yet not false—such is the depth of the records...”

In the east wing, Yi An wrote vigorously. Though the classics were few and their contents long since memorized, every time he studied them, new realms of meaning unfolded before him.

The wisdom of the sages was indeed wondrous.

“How does it feel?” At some point, Wei Liang’s figure appeared silently behind Yi An, a trace of satisfaction on his face.

“At first, my progress was swift. But lately, I seem to have reached a bottleneck, and it’s hard to make any further breakthroughs,” Yi An recalled his recent experiences and spoke honestly.

Wei Liang stroked his beard and smiled. “Don’t rush. If the bottleneck cannot be broken immediately, perhaps you should go out, take a walk, and view things from a different angle. You may find it suddenly resolved.”

He did not ask what troubled Yi An, nor did he offer a direct solution, but merely pointed out a direction—how far Yi An could go depended on himself.

Answers learned from others would always belong to others, not to oneself. Such is not conducive to true growth.

“You’re right, sir. I’ve fallen into a trap of my own making,” Yi An nodded deeply in agreement.

“You’re teachable. Tomorrow, there’s a literary gathering at West Lake. You should attend, meet some talented young men. While it may not help directly, exchanging ideas may open your mind,” Wei Liang said.

In truth, this was his real purpose.

---

Only by comparing oneself to others can shortcomings be found.

Though those so-called talented youths rarely met his standards, there were still some genuine scholars among them—not all were mere frauds.

...

Knowing that Yi An was unfamiliar with Hangzhou, Li Zhihe volunteered to act as his guide.

Yi An naturally had no objection. With Li Zhihe’s help, many troubles could be avoided.

The next morning, Yi An and Li Zhihe set out early.

First, Li Zhihe led Yi An on a tour of the city, giving him a taste of its local customs.

Though Yi An had been in Hangzhou for two months, he had scarcely ventured out.

The Hangzhou literary gathering was held once a year, the location variable, but always at one of the city’s elegant spots.

At the gathering, participants competed in scholarship. If one could take the top prize, not only would they gain fame and prestige, but also a reward of one hundred taels of silver.

Those from privileged backgrounds cared little for the monetary reward; they sought fame, the smile of a beauty, or the admiration of their peers—ultimately, to satisfy their vanity.

But for sons of impoverished families, one hundred taels was enough to support them for quite some time.

In this era, books and classics were luxuries—a single volume cost as much as a common family’s livelihood for a year or more. It was this barrier that kept countless aspiring scholars from learning.

...

With Li Zhihe leading the way, they soon arrived outside West Lake.

“Yi An, look! What do you think of the scenery here?” Li Zhihe exclaimed.

Yi An had long heard the saying: the beauty of Hangzhou lies in West Lake. Today, he finally understood. The shimmering waters, reflecting the slanting sun, were breathtaking beyond words.