Lanterns Flow Along the River

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Walking alongside the scholar, they passed through areas lined with humble dwellings—places rarely so deserted in the capital. At the end of this sparsely populated stretch stood a simple hut, so cramped it was barely fit to kneel within. Entering, they found only a few pieces of furniture made from cypress wood, commonplace and unadorned. On the table sat a half-burned oil lamp and a bowl of leftover rice; beside it was a bed, on which rested a thin cotton cover.

Zhang Ling pulled the only stool outside and sat down. He looked at the scholar’s impoverished surroundings without mockery—indeed, the normally indifferent heart within him stirred with a rare hint of pity. He wondered aloud, “You live here? Has Lü Qingci not arranged for you a better place?”

It was on Zhang Ling’s second day in Falling Sunset Cave that he had first encountered the scholar, through an essay titled “Floating Flowers and Fluff.” The piece chronicled marriages, love stories rare and tragedies plentiful, dissecting the causes behind separation and death with brutal candor. Each word pierced the heart. Zhang Ling had inquired after its author, and though they had only exchanged glances from afar, names were known. Zhang Ling had even sought out more of his works in the library, coming upon “Cold Vastness”—a treatise cataloguing the sowing and harvest of crops across the four seasons, listing every solar term and correlating it with grain growth, including methods to prevent or mitigate natural disasters. Such a work would be esteemed in the court, though its language was bold, risking censure if submitted officially. Most who studied at Falling Sunset Cave focused solely on the classics; few pages into this practical manuscript and their interest waned, missing its sweeping vision. By the time Zhang Ling found the book, it was already dust-covered.

Ren Pingsheng motioned for Zhang Ling to move aside, sat down, and replied, “I chose this myself. Those born to poverty ought to be humble in all things—though I don’t truly believe that. It’s merely an act for Lü Qingci. When hardship comes, in his eyes, only a scholar of talent and modesty is worthy of his help.”

Zhang Ling laughed, “To endure what others cannot, to plot grand designs for the world—you certainly have lofty ambitions!”

Ren Pingsheng corrected him, “Not lofty—magnificent.”

Suddenly, Zhang Ling laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing with a hint of force, causing him to wince. Zhang Ling chuckled, “Come on, call me big brother. You can imagine I’m like those spoiled sons bullying you. Say ‘big brother’ and I’ll let you go.”

Ren Pingsheng forced a smile, “Big brother.”

Zhang Ling released him, teasing, “Those three bullied you before—why didn’t you yield then? Now you know how to be practical?”

Ren Pingsheng replied calmly, “Humiliation underfoot—a true man bends and stretches as needed, endures when he must. But Li Yuan wanted me as his retainer, and he lacks the standing. Once I enter officialdom, there will be plenty of chances to deal with those parasites.”

Zhang Ling took out the book, speaking softly, “You’re confident, aren’t you? I heard the academy hasn’t seen scholars in ages. Its exams are held alongside the imperial ones. This is your book—if you’d presented it earlier, you could’ve gone straight to office. Why let it gather dust?”

Ren Pingsheng took the book, gazing at it with a smile born from the heart. “Do you know? You’re the first person willing to read my work.”

He stood, raised three fingers to the sky, and declared loudly, “Zhang Ling is my big brother for life. I, Ren Pingsheng, recognize only him—no matter how successful I become, this will never change.”

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Zhang Ling remained seated, grinning, “No need for that. Your oath sounds like a lover swearing to a girl in jest.”

Ren Pingsheng snapped back to himself, his smile bright. He stretched out a large hand toward Zhang Ling and laughed, “Since I’ve called you big brother, seeing your little brother so destitute—don’t you feel obliged to look after me?”

Zhang Ling stood and tapped his head, scolding, “That ‘big brother’ is worth a fortune! Maybe I should ask Yu Chang to let you move into the Yu residence?”

Ren Pingsheng shook his head, “No, it’s peaceful here. Better for reading.”

Without hesitation, Zhang Ling took a bundle of silver notes from his sleeve and handed them over. Ren Pingsheng accepted them just as readily—big brothers caring for little brothers was only right.

Yet, as Ren Pingsheng looked at the book he had written, he recalled its many shortcomings and, without hesitation, tossed it into the mud outside. Zhang Ling was puzzled, “Why discard it?”

Ren Pingsheng smiled, “It was just something written in a moment of inspiration. Am I not greater than what I once wrote? The works of the past are worth nothing now.”

Zhang Ling, approving this bold claim, then asked, “It’s not too late—shall we go set some lanterns afloat?”

Ren Pingsheng nodded, and they moved toward Song Linjie’s direction. Passing through several alleys, they found the street in disarray—soldiers encircled three people. Peering through, they saw Song Linjie and the Yu siblings. Zhang Ling edged into the group and asked Song Linjie, “Where’s Liu Yuancheng?”

Song Linjie scratched his head, helpless, “I was fighting with Liu Yuancheng, but when he saw the soldiers, he ran.”

Yu Lianwu, seeing the leader in armor—likely the night patrol captain—spoke, “I am Yu Lianwu, son of Yu Chang, captain of the ancestral army. This is a guest of the Yu household. Today’s matter was indeed his fault; our family is willing to compensate.”

Hearing he was the captain’s son, the patrol leader’s demeanor softened immediately. He asked, “I saw someone fighting with him—who was that?”

Ren Pingsheng, who had been kept outside, squeezed in. He raised his hand respectfully, “That was Liu Yuancheng, a disciple of the Dao Academy. Please investigate, sir.”

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Suddenly, a soldier emerged from an alley, whispered in the captain’s ear. The captain’s eyes widened; he scrutinized the youths before him, then quietly sighed—seemed they’d come for nothing. He waved, and the soldiers departed with him.

Song Linjie looked puzzled, “What’s going on? Why did they suddenly withdraw?”

Ren Pingsheng explained, “I suspect they discovered those three bodies.”

Yu Lianwu turned to Song Linjie, “What happened? How did it come to deaths?”

Zhang Ling recounted the entire process to the two, and the Yu siblings gasped. Learning it wasn’t Zhang Ling or his companion who had killed anyone, they calmed—no captain would dare make the Yu family scapegoats.

Song Linjie asked, “Will Liu Yuancheng be alright?”

Ren Pingsheng spoke softly, “Don’t worry. No one in the state of Chen dares touch the academy, and the academy is reasonable—they won’t hand him over. Besides, Li Yuan’s own hands may not be clean. If Minister Li knows the situation, he likely wouldn’t want to pursue it further.”

Song Linjie smiled in relief; it was rare to find a worthy opponent, and with nothing amiss, he could seek him out for another match later.

Once the matter was thoroughly discussed, they went to set lanterns afloat. Zhang Ling took two lanterns from Yu Wanqing, handed one to Pingsheng. Borrowing a brush, Ren Pingsheng wrote the character for “Achievement”—there are many things one might accomplish, but he wished to embrace them all. Zhang Ling, after much thought, wrote the character for “Tranquility,” though he couldn’t quite say why. The five of them released their lanterns into the river, gently pushing them away. Apart from Song Linjie’s lantern, stained ink-black, the rest drifted together, their light merging. From above the Jade Brocade City, a brilliant river of lanterns threaded the city.

Zhang Ling glanced at the others, noticing Yu Wanqing occasionally looking his way—her brows rising and falling, a slight furrow between them.

Just a lantern, just a river of lights—that was all.