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墨書 Inktalez
In the west of the mainland, within Lingyun Prefecture, there is a village called Lingjia Village.
Lingjia Village is merely a small settlement with only a few dozen households. Lingyun Prefecture consists of ten counties, each containing several dozen towns, and it is only beneath these towns that villages exist. Thus, Lingjia Village is just one of the thousands of villages within Lingyun Prefecture, without any special characteristics.
The residents of the village are primarily poor farmers who work from sunrise to sunset. They are far removed from the esteemed Cultivators; even those with slightly higher status among the nobility are unattainable figures for them. For these villagers, being able to fill their stomachs and live their simple lives is the greatest satisfaction.
Simplicity and honesty are their most prominent traits.
At dusk, as the sun gradually descends towards the horizon, a soft yellow glow mixed with the colors of the evening clouds illuminates the land. Waves of gray heat rise slowly between the mountains, and faint wisps of smoke rise from the chimneys of farmhouses in the village. A gentle breeze blows through, carrying the ascending smoke towards the forests and dispersing it across the land.
To the west of Lingjia Village, in a somewhat dilapidated courtyard, a young man stands quietly before a Stone Table.
Dressed in scholarly attire, he wears a light gray worn-out robe that is impeccably clean without a speck of dirt. On his feet are brand new black cloth shoes, clearly worn for only a short time. He stands like a statue, gazing calmly at the Scroll on the Stone Table, his lips curving into an alluring arc that hints at something deeper.
As a light breeze sweeps through the courtyard, creating a rustling sound among the surroundings, he seems oblivious to it all. His gaze remains steady and unfaltering. The gentle wind tousles his long black hair as he casually places his hands behind his back, exuding an air of effortless grace and elegance.
"Is it the wind that moves, or my heart? Or perhaps both are in motion?"
His lips part slightly as he gazes into the distant sky, murmuring softly to himself.
The Void stretches out before him, with evening clouds spreading across the sky in shades of crimson that envelop the earth. The colors of this sunset reflect in his eyes; a faint black light flickers as mysterious glimmers shine within his pupils—expressions reminiscent of those elderly individuals who have seen many years and have gained insight into all things worldly.
"If my heart does not move, what does it matter if the wind does..."
As soon as he finishes speaking, his right hand unhesitatingly picks up a brush from the Stone Table. He swiftly glides it across an Inkstone in an arc; immediately, the bristles at one end become saturated with ink. With a slight shift in posture and a bend in his arm, he presses the black brush onto the pristine Scroll. The brush moves fluidly yet firmly across its surface; although its body remains straight and unwavering, its soft bristles glide smoothly over the white Scroll, instantly outlining powerful strokes.
Heart!
In just a moment, a strong and vigorous character for "heart" appears on the Scroll. Written in one continuous motion, this single character occupies most of the Scroll's space. Upon closer inspection, one can see that the brushwork is robust and steady; where it has been drawn is decisive. Though not rounded or smooth like some scripts, it conveys an air of resolute determination—evident even to those who do not understand calligraphy that this is undoubtedly an excellent character.
Gently placing the brush down, the young man once again set it on the Stone Table's Inkstone, a hint of satisfaction appearing in his eyes.
"This is the meaning of the characters. If the teacher were to see this, he would surely be pleased. I didn't expect to meet the teacher's requirements only now."
With a soft sigh, his gaze turned to the distance, but this time it was filled with evident nostalgia, as if recalling some unforgettable memory, a trace of sentimentality emerging on his face.
"Knock knock knock... knock knock knock... A-Zhe, are you home?" A strong voice called from outside the courtyard, instantly pulling the young man out of his reverie. Listening closely, he recognized who it was and immediately responded,
"It must be Er Niu Brother; just come in."
"Creak..."
The old wooden door was pushed open, and a young man dressed like a farmer hurried in. Upon seeing the young man standing before the Stone Table, a glimmer of joy flashed in his eyes. He stepped forward and grinned,
"I knew you would be home, A-Zhe. Here's the thing: in a few days, Zhang Laosan from Neighboring Village is having a celebration. Among his invited guests are some from the city. Considering there are many customs in the city, he’s worried about losing face and wants to ask you to write a few invitations. I’m not sure if you have time?"
Looking at this young man, Zhao Erniu from Lingjia Village, who was usually reckless and rude, surprisingly spoke without any coarse words, instead revealing a hint of respect in his tone, which was quite unexpected.
The real reason for this was that this young man's status was not ordinary.
This young man was named A-Zhe. In fact, he wasn't originally from Lingjia Village; he had come here three years ago with an elderly man. What was unexpected was that this young man turned out to be educated. For farmers like them who had relied on the land for generations, an educated person was undoubtedly someone worthy of respect; being literate and able to read was an impressive feat.
Since then, this young man had settled in Lingjia Village and became its first scholar. Whenever there were matters requiring literacy or writing something down, people would come to him for help, even villagers from nearby villages.
This was not only because of his knowledge but also due to his good temperament; he treated common folk with kindness and lacked the arrogance typical of scholars. Thus, despite his young age, he was highly respected within a radius of several miles.
"Er Niu Brother is too polite. I've heard about Zhang Laosan's matter as well. Since you’ve come personally, I naturally won’t refuse; just have him come by to pick them up." The young man smiled slightly and agreed without hesitation.
"Haha, I knew you wouldn’t refuse, A-Zhe! By the way, here’s the deposit he paid in advance; please accept it." Hearing Sun Zhe's words made Zhao Erniu's smile even broader, as if he believed that it was truly because of him that this young man agreed. He immediately took out a handful of copper coins and handed them over.
The young man did not refuse, gently taking the copper coins and placing them in his pocket.
Zhao Erniu exchanged a few pleasantries before leaving the courtyard. For him, conversing with an educated scholar was still quite a pressure.
Watching Zhao Erniu exit the courtyard, the young man slowly turned around, preparing to tidy up the scrolls on the stone table. Suddenly, a flash of purple-red light burst in from outside. In the blink of an eye, a crystal-clear Purple-Red Bird appeared before him, shimmering with a faint purple glow, looking extraordinarily magical. If Erniu had not left, he would surely have been astonished.
However, the young man showed no signs of surprise at this astonishing scene, as if he had grown accustomed to it. Looking at the swaying bird, a hint of a smile crossed his eyes as he reached out to pat the Crystal Bird's head and asked helplessly, "Did you go to the town's wine cellar to steal wine with that old fellow again?"
"Chirp chirp... chirp chirp..."
With its eyes glowing red and a strong smell of alcohol emanating from its body, the magical bird shook its head vigorously, refusing to admit anything. But after just a couple of shakes, it toppled over, whether from fainting or drunkenness was unclear. Seeing this, the young man's expression of helplessness deepened.
"Sun Zhezi, old man, I brought you some good wine."
His look of helplessness had not yet faded when an aged voice called out from outside the courtyard. Shortly after, a ragged old man entered carrying a wine jug.
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