The characters in the world are all the same. What’s so special about them?
“This is what I just copied,” Young Master Qin said as he carefully examined it. “Though it resembles the original, it still doesn’t capture the brilliance of seeing it in person. Too many people have been gathering to look, some even sitting on the ground to copy it obsessively. Worried the characters might be damaged, the temple has covered it with a blue gauze. With these five characters here, no one would dare deface that wall anymore.”
As he spoke, he smiled and sighed.
“This year’s grand poetry gathering hasn’t even started, but with the appearance of these characters, it might as well be over already,” he remarked.
Is it really that remarkable?
Zhou Liu-lang gazed at the characters spread out on the desk.
Mountain temple awaits the plum blossoms.
He examined each character one by one. Most were unremarkable, but when his gaze fell upon the character “开” (open)*, his heart stirred deeply.
His eyes lingered on the character, and it seemed as if the clamor of battle—golden spears and iron horses—charged straight toward him.
Zhou Liu-lang couldn’t help but close his eyes for a moment.
His forebears had fought on horseback, but he, born into an era of peace, could only imagine the clash of armies through the elders’ stories and training grounds. What it truly felt like was something he had always longed to know. At times, he would wake in the middle of the night, his dreams vivid yet tantalizingly incomplete.
That yearning—faintly reminiscent of what he now felt while gazing at the character “开”.
Unable to resist, he reached out and gently traced the strokes of the character with his fingers.
Seeing Zhou Liu-lang’s actions, Young Master Qin smiled.
“I, however, prefer this character ‘待’ (await),” he said, reaching out and lightly stroking it, his tone tinged with a touch of emotion. “These five characters evoke different feelings in different people. Such simple and straightforward words, yet they carry such profound depth. I can’t imagine who could have written them.”
“You don’t know who wrote it?” Zhou Liu-lang was surprised. “Aren’t you scholars the most fond of leaving your names behind?”
Young Master Qin laughed and shook his head.
“There’s no name, and no one saw who wrote it. Some say it was an elderly official, retired and near the end of his days. Others think it was a scholar brimming with grand ambitions. Still others claim it was a military general awaiting the opportunity to achieve great deeds,” he said, glancing again at the words on the paper. “I, however, feel that the strength behind the strokes seems a bit lacking. Is it physical strength, or something else? There’s a faint trace of… femininity.”
Zhou Liu-lang studied the characters a moment longer.
“No need to speculate. Whoever wrote this did so to gain fame. Now that they’ve achieved it, I’m sure they’ll reveal themselves before long,” he remarked.
Young Master Qin nodded, his gaze lingering on the characters spread out on the desk.
The room fell silent for a moment.
“Oh, it’s been nearly ten days now. Is your cousin about to return?” Young Master Qin asked, as if something had just crossed his mind.
“Whatever, I don’t care! Ruins my good mood!” Zhou Liu-lang immediately pulled a face and snapped irritably.
Young Master Qin burst into hearty laughter.
As morning light gradually filled the room, Dan-niang got down from the bed. The nursemaid and maids were quiet and unobtrusive, leaving her in a momentary daze. Barefoot except for her socks, she walked to the window and pushed it open with effort.
A gust of cold wind blew in, carrying snowflakes with it.
“Ah, it really is snowing!” she exclaimed. “Miss was right!”
Her voice startled the nursemaid and maids outside.
“Oh, my lady, you mustn’t let the wind hit you!”
In a flurry, they rushed to her and carried her away from the window.
At Cheng Jiao-niang’s place, the maid drew back the curtains and opened the window. The cold wind blew against her hands, causing a faint stinging sensation.
“Oh? It’s snowing,” she said, looking outside and exclaiming with delight.
Cheng Jiao-niang emerged from behind the folding screen and walked a few steps to the door, pulling it open.
Outside, fine snow, as small as grains of rice, was falling steadily.
“Miss, be careful of the cold,” the maid quickly came over and wrapped a large cloak around her.
It was snowing. Cheng Jiao-niang gazed outside, feeling her heartbeat quicken slightly for the first time.
Was there something unforgettable that had happened on a snowy day in the past? Will seeing the snow remind her of something?
Just like that day at the temple, when she picked up the brush and a fleeting thought of her father crossed her mind. Though she couldn’t grasp hold of anything concrete, it was still better than feeling nothing at all, forever adrift in calm waters.
Cheng Jiao-niang extended her hand and held it still for a moment, sensing this sudden, fleeting palpitation. But alas, it vanished as quickly as it came, just like the snowflakes that fell onto her palm, only to melt away in an instant.
Chen Shao stepped into the room of Old Master Chen and saw Cheng Jiao-niang sitting to the side, reciting a prescription while a maid next to her wrote it down.
“Grandfather, it really is snowing!” Chen Dan-niang’s voice rang out in the room. “Miss said it would snow in three to five days, and sure enough, it’s snowing now!”
Noticing Chen Shao entering, Dan-niang cheerfully called out, “Father!” But in the next moment, she turned back to Cheng Jiao-niang, unable to contain her curiosity.
“Did the heavens tell you it would snow?” she asked.
What kind of question was that? It sounded rather cryptic and nonsensical.
Chen Shao, however, froze slightly in thought.
This lady predicted snow in three to five days? She had foreseen it? By observing the sky?
He recalled what his father had said about encountering this lady on the road. Back then, she had also predicted the arrival and cessation of rain. At the time, his mind was preoccupied with his father’s illness, so he hadn’t thought much of it. But now, upon reflection, could it be that this lady possessed the skill of observing the sky and reading the atmosphere?
Much like the experts in the Imperial Observatory?
Yet even those experts rarely got it right—perhaps two out of ten attempts. To truly discern the heavens and understand the atmosphere required mastery of both astronomy and geography, an education involving thousands of books and journeys spanning hundreds of miles. And even with all that effort, three parts depended on diligence, while seven parts relied on innate talent, the kind of intelligence that bordered on the supernatural.
Like Zhuge Kongming borrowing the east wind, or the shamans who could divine which foods should not be eaten, or even the famed Yuan Tai Historian of the founding era.
Such extraordinary people were rare to encounter even once in a century.
After inquiring after his father’s health and sending his daughter away, Chen Shao couldn’t help but voice his question when Cheng Jiao-niang was about to take her leave.
“Miss, who is your teacher?” he asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang remained silent for a moment.
So, she did have a master after all, he thought. To know medicine and to read the skies—these weren’t skills one could acquire out of nowhere.
Teaching a foolish child… Who on earth could such an extraordinary person be?
Or perhaps, was it this very master who had cured Cheng Jiao-niang of her former foolishness?
As Cheng Jiao-niang stayed silent, Chen Shao’s thoughts churned wildly.
Yes, that must be it! It had to be!
A master! A true master!
The mystery that had puzzled Chen Shao for so long suddenly unraveled, like a divine revelation. It was as if enlightenment had poured over him!
“If I were to say that I don’t remember, would you believe me or not?” Cheng Jiao-niang said, looking up at Chen Shao.
Chen Shao’s expression showed that he had already worked things out in his mind and was fully convinced of his conclusion.
He immediately nodded but still asked with some confusion, “How could you… not remember?”
“The Taoist temple was struck by lightning,” Cheng Jiao-niang explained. “I was hit by the lightning myself and barely survived. When I woke up, I couldn’t recall the past—though it’s not entirely forgotten. Some things I remember, but others I’ve lost.”
Chen Shao let out an “oh” in understanding.
“So that’s how it is. I see now,” he said, already completely convinced. “But there’s no need for you to worry, Miss. Things will surely improve in time.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“Yes, they will improve,” she said.
After bidding farewell to Chen Shao, the two of them returned to their place.
The maid held the umbrella, walking alongside her with a puzzled expression.
“Miss, what did the master understand?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Cheng Jiao-niang’s expression was blank as she gazed at the snowflakes falling gently.
“I don’t know. As long as he understands, that’s enough,” she said.
The maid was taken aback and then chuckled.
“So, whether we speak or not, it doesn’t really matter,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, reaching out to catch the falling snowflakes.
Since their outing, the Chen sisters had extended several more invitations, but Cheng Jiao-niang had politely declined each time. The sisters still couldn’t muster the courage to sit down with her and have a conversation.
This Lady Cheng truly wasn’t fond of talking.
“That day on the road, she only said three sentences. No, I should say three words—’Dan-niang,’ ‘this side,’ and ‘good,'” one of the ladies said, counting on her fingers.
The ladies seated in the room couldn’t help but laugh.
“So what?” another lady scoffed, glancing at the laughing ladies. “You all talk a lot, but what good does it do? Can your words cure Grandfather’s illness or make people respectfully come from miles away to greet you?”
The ladies fell silent, feeling a bit awkward.
“Shi’ba-niang, we didn’t mean to mock,” the lady who had spoken earlier said awkwardly.
“As long as you didn’t, that’s fine,” the other lady replied. “Who should be mocked and who shouldn’t, that’s not certain yet.”
“Alright, alright, let’s go visit Grandfather this afternoon,” one lady interjected with a smile, trying to smooth things over and beckoning everyone.
The ladies responded in unison, rising and making their way together. As they reached the gate, they saw Cheng Jiao-niang entering with her maid. The group instinctively stopped in their tracks.
“Weren’t they supposed to be treating him this morning?” they wondered aloud.
After some hesitation, none of them went inside.
In the room of Old Master Chen, Chen Shao, his wife, and Dan-niang were all present. They were quite surprised by Cheng Jiao-niang’s arrival at this time.
“But my father’s illness…?” Chen Shao’s first reaction was to ask, looking anxious.
“It’s fine. Old Master won’t need acupuncture tomorrow,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, sitting upright.
Chen Shao and his wife breathed a sigh of relief.
“Please settle the consultation fee,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, “I should take my leave now.”
Translator’s Note:
*The character “开” means “open” on its own, but in the context of the poem it means “blossom”.
