Chapter 022: The Dragon-Shaped Bone Search (Part I)

“Duke De, do you not think your actions somewhat rash?”

Sima Hui sat upright, his expression solemn, a hint of gravity in his tone.

Opposite him reclined a middle-aged man, wearing a scholar’s cap and a large robe. Though it was the depths of winter, the man’s chest was exposed, his hair loose, and he held a slender drumstick, occasionally tapping a small drum at his side, producing a dull thud.

“What is rash about it?”

“You know full well that the boy is causing trouble under your name, yet not only do you not reproach him, you…”

“Didn’t I reproach him?” The middle-aged man replied, grinning. “Did I not send that tall fellow back with a message? ‘To live as a man is to be upright; to evade it is but a stroke of luck.’ If the boy is clever, he’ll grasp my meaning. If he cannot, he’s unworthy to enter Deer Gate Mountain.”

As he sang the words “to live as a man,” he turned them into a chant.

Then, he rolled upright, raised a bowl of warm wine, drained it in a single gulp, and exhaled deeply.

“De Cao, we’ve known each other for many years. I’ve always respected your scholarship and virtue.

But sometimes, you cling too much to formality and ignore circumstances. Tell me, you clearly think highly of the boy—why not bring him here?”

Sima Hui hesitated, then said, “The boy’s insight is unique; he has some talent.

But I barely know him. To accept him as a disciple after only one meeting—would that not be too hasty? I know nothing of his character; how can I take him in so lightly?”

“De Cao, that’s but your opinion. Let me ask you—what is more important, scholarship or virtue?”

“Virtue, of course.”

“Then let me ask again: Master Zeng needed to reflect thrice daily to correct himself.

You cast the boy aside, calling it observation, but what guidance can you give him? I don’t see anything wrong with borrowing my brother’s name. Knowing how to leverage his circumstances shows the boy’s wisdom. Of course, his methods may be flawed, but we can correct him. If you simply leave him unattended, he’ll never know his mistakes, nor correct his heart or reflect upon himself.

Remember, this Cao Youxue is not like Zhuge.

The Zhuge family has deep scholarly roots; though Jun Gong has passed, old friends still look after him. He grew up in such an environment, always guided and awakened. Pang Tong was the same… But this boy must rely entirely on himself. All the more reason we should offer him guidance, rather than ignore him. Moreover, his actions in Jiyang were not truly wrong…

By gifting him carriage and books, I have in fact placed a shackle upon him. Whenever he acts in the future, he’ll recall my words. Thus, even if he errs, he’ll soon awaken.”

Sima Hui pondered for a long time, finally sighing deeply.

“Duke De, why not join me in teaching him?”

“Teaching?” Pang Duke laughed heartily. “De Cao, you’ve studied for years—how can you say such a thing?

Does Heaven speak? The seasons proceed, all things grow, yet Heaven says nothing.”

With that, he fell silent, gazing intently at Sima Hui.

This was the root of the difference between Pang Duke and Sima Hui. Sima Hui revered the order of Heaven, rulers, parents, and teachers—once a teacher, always a father. His educational philosophy was to impart all he knew to his disciples, so they could further comprehend the way of sages. Pang Duke, however, believed that excessive constraint only burdened students. Has Heaven ever spoken? Yet the seasons are distinct and the weather is harmonious.

A true teacher should guide, not instill his own thoughts into students. The sages have made their principles clear; students must understand them themselves. The teacher’s role is to support from the side, preventing them from straying. After all, all people are different—one grain feeds a hundred kinds. The same words mean different things to different people. Why force your own views upon students? Isn’t it better to let them grasp it themselves?

Sima Hui was not wrong; he wanted to fulfill the way of a teacher.

Pang Duke was not wrong either; he sought to liberate nature and let it grow freely…

The two sat in the room, silently facing each other. Neither spoke. This was a clash of personal philosophies—each held fast to his own, and neither could convince the other. In such circumstances, the best solution seemed to be silence.

Outside, two youths crouched upon a ridge between fields.

“Pang Lin, tell me again—what exactly did Cao Peng say that night?”

“Brother, I’ve repeated it so many times—why… Fine, fine. That night, Father and Mr. De Cao were debating wine and matters at the sheep register inn. Suddenly, Cao Peng leapt out and shamelessly claimed he would correct Father and Mr. De Cao…”

The youth recounted Cao Peng’s ten victories and ten defeats once more.

The other youth’s expression grew curious.

He was rather unattractive, with dark skin, thick brows, small eyes, a bulbous nose, wide mouth, and a thin face—almost monkey-like at first glance.

“To think such a person exists in Nanyang Commandery!

Pang Lin, why haven’t we heard of him before? By rights, someone who can say such things should be somewhat famous.”

“How should I know?” the younger boy shook his head. “But he wasn’t lying. After we parted, Uncle Wen sent someone to Wuyin County. Uncle Wen said there’s a murder case on Cao Peng’s family… If we count the time, when we met, they were fleeing. But I don’t understand—why didn’t they head west straight to Jiyang, instead of detouring through Biyang?”

“That’s hardly difficult. They must have known that if they went directly to Jiyang, they’d surely encounter pursuit.

Detouring through Biyang would throw people off their trail and avoid Wuyin’s pursuers. The road was longer, but much safer.

Do you think that plan was Cao Peng’s?”

“I can’t say. But judging from his family—either simple men or women—it’s unlikely such a thorough scheme came from them. I suspect it was Cao Peng’s idea. But what’s the big deal? Why are you so surprised, brother?”

The unattractive youth laughed. “Pang Lin, if it were you, in their situation, could you have thought of that plan?”

Pang Lin paused, then shook his head. “I probably wouldn’t have.”

“This Cao Peng is bold and meticulous, and knows how to use circumstance… Not simple, truly not simple! Ha, if he ends up joining us at Deer Gate Mountain, we’ll have another companion… Uncle values him so much, gifting him the Classic of Poetry and Analects… I can’t wait to meet him.”

Pang Lin seemed somewhat unconvinced, but also afraid of his brother, so he fell silent.

The unattractive youth stood up, murmuring to himself, “According to his reasoning, Cao Cao seems a remarkable figure as well. Truly intriguing…”

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The Records of the Grand Historian, Book of Celestial Signs, records: “The winter solstice’s extreme brevity, hanging earth and charcoal. Charcoal moves, the deer sheds antlers, orchid roots emerge, spring water rises—thus one knows the solstice is near.”

That is, three days before the winter solstice, earth and charcoal are suspended from opposite ends of a wooden balance, perfectly weighed. On the day of the solstice, yang energy arrives, and the charcoal side sinks, breaking the balance—signifying the arrival of yang and the awakening of the earth…

This was the simple method common folk used to measure the season.

The great cold had arrived; people set up six earth oxen in the fields outside the city, ceremoniously bidding farewell to the great cold. After the great cold came the beginning of spring, when all things stir. The custom of setting earth oxen was tied to the agricultural calendar, an important ritual at the time.

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Thanks to the readers: Distant Green Hills, Lightly Viewing History, Intentional Waves and Thousand Layers of Snow, The Sighing Departed, Goddamn, Reader 0912061002831895, Clouds Drifting with the Wind, Waiting Under the Tree on a Thunderstorm Day, for their generous rewards.