Chapter 8: Apprenticeship (Part 1)

Master Chen stroked his long beard and said, "Since I have accepted you as my disciple, I must inquire about your studies. What books have you read on ordinary days?"

Thus, the apprenticeship ceremony was deemed complete. Fang Zheng, this individual who had traversed time and space, became a student of Confucius. Reflecting on the time before his journey, when he was competing in the job market alongside a large group of master's degree holders and doctors, he had taken a long detour only to return to the classroom. In this lifetime, he was truly destined to be intertwined with books. When would he finally make a name for himself

Fang Zheng feels that the man in the painting is about to commit suicide, taking one last look at the land that nurtured him before dying... If he is reluctant, then he should not die, yet he has painted it out...

Master Fang was anxious on the side; he knew his son best. High-minded discourse? This boy couldn't even come up with a fallacy. If this boy pretended to understand but actually didn't, and spoke nonsense, today's apprenticeship would surely fall through

Oh? I did not realize that you possess such extraordinary talent," Master Chen said joyfully, "At such a young age, you have already passed the examination to become a xiucai, which is no small feat. In the future, it will be a matter of course for you to achieve fame in the imperial examinations. I have indeed taken on a good disciple.

If he really said that, Fang Zheng's father, who advocates domestic violence, would likely give him a beating on the spot

Fang Zheng curled his lip in disdain when suddenly someone behind him asked, "Young Master Fang, what do you think of this painting?"

Fang Zheng listened in a daze, roughly understanding that Master Chen created this painting out of concern for the country and its people, while also conveying a sense of unrecognized talent.

Master Chen said: "More than a month ago, well, it was about right, but that doesn't seem correct, according to what should be, you should have already..."

Master Fang shot a fierce glare at He Tushu, remaining silent.

After the formalities, the three individuals took their seats and engaged in casual conversation. Master Fang expressed a desire to befriend Master Chen, hoping that his precious son would receive more attention at the academy. Therefore, during their pleasantries, his words were filled with respect.

Fang Zheng cast a grateful glance at his father; after all, he was family, truly loyal

Fang Zheng finally breathed a sigh of relief; time travel was his greatest secret, one he intended to keep buried deep within himself, taking it to the grave. If Chen Fuzai were to deduce his fate, he would be the first time traveler to be burned alive as a monster by the ancients. Since heaven arranged for me to travel through time, it surely wouldn't allow me to end up in such a miserable state

Master Fang ordered Fang Zheng to pay respects to the portrait and tablet of Confucius, then knelt down and bowed before Master Chen. After that, he unveiled the red cloth covering the lacquer tray and respectfully presented it. On the lacquer tray were six items: meat strips, celery, lotus seeds, red beans, red dates, and longan.

The foyer is quite simple, with only a few inconspicuous teak armchairs and no other furnishings. On the wall hangs a painting depicting a middle-aged man standing alone on a steep cliff, his eyes filled with sorrow and grief as he gazes at the magnificent landscape before the precipice.

Is this guy deliberately looking for trouble? Fang Zheng thought resentfully, if I have profound insights, why would I come to you as a master? Were ancient teachers so humble when speaking to their students?

Mr. Chen may not be very skilled at discussing trivial matters in life. The other party's elder responded perfunctorily, yet his gaze was fixed on Fang Zheng. After a while, Mr. Chen suddenly said: "I usually dabble in divination and numerology, and I find your facial features quite peculiar. According to my observations, you should have..." He seemed to reconsider and then changed his question: "Have there been any changes to your health recently?"

Cultural individuals tend to be quite particular. Fang Zheng quickly interrupted him, saying: "Those with good fortune have their own celestial protection; fate follows a principle, unpredictable and ever-changing. One may spend a lifetime without fully comprehending it, and occasional miscalculations are also normal."

Master Chen then accepted Fang Zheng's bow and returned the courtesy

Fang Zheng was taken aback, realizing that one should not underestimate ancient people. This individual truly possesses some genuine skills, as he was able to discern at a glance that my fate should have long since met its end. Impressive! It is a pity that he is merely a teacher; he would do much better setting up a stall outside, where he could earn significantly more.

Fang Zheng quickly performed a deep bow and said: "Student Fang Zheng, paying respects to Master Chen."

This painting hangs in the foyer of his home. Upon meeting, he was eager to know Fang Zheng's opinion on the painting. Even a fool could guess that this painting must have been created by Master Chen himself. In any case, it was absolutely certain that he would sing its praises.

Master Fang gently tugged at Fang Zheng and said: "Unworthy son, why do you not quickly pay your respects to Master Chen!"

Ah? Fang Zheng gaped, staring in astonishment at Old Master Fang. This joke has gone too far; even if my father wanted to indulge his vanity, this is not how it should be done. If Master Chen casually asks a question, won't I just expose myself? What exactly does my father mean?

Little did anyone know that Master Chen, who was originally smiling, grew increasingly disappointed as he listened, his expression becoming more and more disheartened. As Fang Zheng's words fell, Master Chen shook his head and sighed repeatedly.

Master Chen furrowed his brow and nodded, saying: "Perhaps so, it is better to have no books than to believe everything in them; I have been too attached to the texts"

Fang Zheng was taken aback, thinking to himself, did I say something wrong? After reflecting on it, every word was a compliment. Could it be that I didn't praise him enough, and Master Chen is dissatisfied? This guy's vanity is too strong, isn't it? If I were to really flatter you to the extreme, would you even be able to accept it?

There is no way, just make it up.

Fang Zheng racked his brains and came up with a few universally applicable phrases from his past life. He then said: "This painting is quite remarkable. As a student observing it, I find that this work possesses both form and spirit, with a vivid aura that is quite extraordinary. Moreover, its artistic conception is profound, inviting deep contemplation; it is indeed a rare masterpiece." Fortunately, having a background in Chinese literature, it wasn't too difficult for Fang Zheng to use such eloquent language. By the end of his remarks, he found himself nodding along.

Master Chen's residence is not far from the Fang family, located on South Gate Street in Jinling City, right next to Mingdao Academy

Master Chen fixed his gaze on Fang Zheng and said, "Just now, I noticed you were intently observing this painting, wanting to speak but hesitating. I wonder, Young Master Fang, what profound insights do you have?"

Master Chen sighed and spoke: "It is indeed difficult to find a true friend! Three years ago, I heard that the Turks repeatedly invaded our territory, cities were often plundered, while our Huachao was weak and fearful of the enemy, with the army retreating time and again, lacking any fighting spirit. Within the court, factional struggles intensified; in the officialdom, corruption became rampant; and in the streets, the common people were displaced. Our Huachao, a vast and great nation, is on the verge of falling into the hands of foreign tribes, and at that time, the suffering of the common people will be beyond words. It is lamentable that I, a mere impoverished scholar, find myself in a position where if I advance, my lofty ideals go unappreciated, and if I retreat, I cannot bear to remain indifferent. In my frustration, I created this painting as a small consolation, but unfortunately, no one understands it; they only praise my painting skills and say nothing of its deeper meaning. Our scholars are so numb to this, it is both pitiable and lamentable!"

Master Chen nodded noncommittally, and then began the process of apprenticeship.

Fang Zheng turned around in surprise and saw a middle-aged scholar in his forties standing before him. He wore a scholar's cap, a long black robe, and a pair of somewhat worn cloth shoes. His face was square-shaped, and his sharp, spirited eyes seemed capable of piercing into the hearts of others. A neatly trimmed long beard hung from his chin.

As much as one may wish to avoid it, one must still answer the master's questions. Fang Zheng replied honestly: "Not long ago, a student... accidentally fell from upstairs, um, hit his head on the ground and was in a coma for over a month"

Fang Zheng felt somewhat guilty; despite having learned so much in university, he had never studied traditional Chinese painting. How could he possibly comment? He couldn't just say, "I find your painting lacking, with flaws everywhere and no strengths at all. If taken to the street, it probably wouldn't fetch a good price. Perhaps it's better not to display it and embarrass yourself?"

He has read quite a lot of books, but they are all in vernacular Chinese. Fang Zheng intends to speak frankly, so he counts on his fingers one by one: "The teachings of the sages, the theories of various schools, the students have all not..."

As the crowd arrived at Master Chen's doorstep, Lord Fang's expression grew solemn. He carefully adjusted his attire and took a lacquer tray covered with red cloth from the hands of the guards. It was unclear what items were placed on the tray alongside the books. He then led Fang Zheng inside, while the guards lined up at the entrance, methodically carrying the gifts from the cart into Master Chen's home.

Fang Zheng secretly shook his head, thinking that scholars are always so irritable. What good does painting do? Can it save the people from fire and water? Can it keep the Turkic cavalry at bay? Rather than sighing and lamenting at home, it would be better to join the army at the border to fight against the enemy. It seems that this Mr. Chen belongs to the type of bookworm, and moreover, a passionate bookworm. The symptoms of such bookworms manifest as sitting at home worrying about the country and the people, constantly immersed in their own sense of crisis.

"I have read them all, and I was fortunate enough to be admitted as a student." Master Fang interrupted him without changing his expression, and after speaking, he continued to sip his tea as if nothing had happened

Master Fang quickly interjected, saying: "Mr. Chen, I have brought my son here today specifically to pay his respects and seek your guidance. As for matters of learning, perhaps it would be better to teach him gradually when the opportunity arises in the future"

This is what was followed in ancient times, known as the "Six Rites of the Bundle of Gifts." Among them, the meat strips express the disciple's heartfelt gratitude towards their mentor; celery symbolizes diligence and a thirst for knowledge; lotus seeds signify the painstaking efforts of education; red beans represent good fortune; red dates imply early success in examinations; and longan signifies the fulfillment of merits.

The residence of Master Chen is not large; it is merely a two-courtyard house with earthen tiles and rammed earth walls, clearly showing that it has not been maintained for many years. An elderly servant led Master Fang and his son to the front hall, served them some fine tea, and then withdrew.

Master Chen waved his hand slightly and continued to ask the question that Fang Zheng had not answered earlier: "Young Master Fang, what do you think of this painting?"