Chapter Three: Buddha Jumps Over the Wall

Early the next morning.

Before the hour of the dragon had arrived, Qi Xiu, already packed and prepared, waited at the entrance of the Danqing Pavilion. It had been no small feat to catch the eye of the master, and he could not afford to miss this opportunity by arriving late.

No sooner had Qi Xiu settled into his spot than a luxurious carriage emerged slowly from behind the Danqing Pavilion. The old coachman, clad in a leather jacket and puffing on a tobacco pipe, sat at the front, exhaling thick clouds of white smoke.

“Are you Mr. Qi Xiu?”

“Please, just Qi Xiu is enough, sir. I dare not accept the title of ‘Mr.’”

Qi Xiu answered politely, raising his hand slightly, showing no disrespect despite the other’s occupation as a coachman.

“Haha, I’m just an old driver. If you don’t mind, call me Old Guan. It’s cold outside—come, get in.”

With a friendly nod, Old Guan shifted to the side and lifted the curtain of the carriage, inviting Qi Xiu aboard.

With a word of thanks, Qi Xiu stepped in.

The interior of the carriage was spacious, with a carved ventilation opening in the ceiling, a soft carpet on the floor, and a small stove beneath an embedded table. The entire carriage was warm and comfortable, a world apart from the frozen landscape outside.

Indeed, the pleasures of wealth were unimaginable for ordinary folk.

Marveling at the carriage’s luxury, Qi Xiu felt a slight jolt—the journey had begun toward Qian Mansion.

The distance from Danqing Pavilion to Qian Mansion was not far; in less than twenty minutes, the carriage came to a halt.

“Mr. Qi, we’re here.”

Stepping out of the carriage, Qi Xiu found himself before a grand, solid gate. The estate was surrounded by high walls, from which noble branches of flowers peeked over, creating an enclave isolated from the world.

This was Qian Mansion, one of the wealthiest households in Baohe County.

At the gate, a servant in a gray-brown cotton robe awaited. Seeing Qi Xiu disembark, he approached.

“You are Master Qi, correct? Please, follow me.”

“Thank you,” Qi Xiu nodded.

Trailing behind the servant along a broad and smooth stone path, Qi Xiu curiously observed his surroundings.

The layout of Qian Mansion centered on a main axis, with three courtyards—front, middle, and rear—interspersed with stone bridges, rock gardens, pavilions, and towers, all contributing to an elegant and serene atmosphere.

“Young master, Master Qi has arrived.”

At the entrance of a secluded courtyard in the rear residence, the servant respectfully reported inside.

“Let him in,” came Qian Yuze’s calm voice from within.

“Master Qi, please enter.”

Qian Yuze’s private courtyard was even more refined and exquisite than the main mansion. The small garden, rich in ancient charm, was enclosed by red walls. At its center lay a carefully constructed pond, with a small pavilion and a round stone table, surrounded by several rosewood chairs.

Qian Yuze was seated in the pavilion, conversing with a tall, broad-shouldered man. Upon seeing Qi Xiu, he rose and beckoned him over.

“Second Brother, this is the calligraphy master I mentioned. Qi Xiu, this is my second brother, Qian Yuchuan.”

Inside the pavilion, Qian Yuze briefly introduced them.

“So you’re the one Yuze spoke of. Did you write this?” Qian Yuchuan, clearly interested, glanced at Qi Xiu and gestured to the calligraphy Qi Xiu had written the day before, now resting on the stone table.

“Indeed, Second Master Qian, it was written by me,” Qi Xiu replied candidly, as the truth demanded.

“Excellent! To have such skill at your age is rare. Yuze, can I borrow your man for two days?”

Qian Yuchuan stood, smiling as he patted Qi Xiu’s shoulder. His large, solid palm felt like two iron plates, making Qi Xiu wince from the pain.

Was that a hand? Even a bear’s paw wouldn’t have such force.

Qi Xiu grimaced inwardly; after those two pats, he felt his arm might fall apart.

“Second Brother, don’t be reckless! Qi Xiu is a scholar; you don’t know your own strength. Don’t hurt him. Besides, he’s not my employee, just someone temporarily using space in front of my door for his business. If you want to borrow him, you should ask his opinion,” Qian Yuze said, seeing Qi Xiu’s discomfort, and pushed his brother back a few steps.

“Not your employee? Even better. Come with me, I’ll pay you twenty taels of silver per month—how about that?”

Qian Yuchuan laughed and made his offer.

Twenty taels of silver?!

Even though Qi Xiu had prepared himself, the number stunned him.

Twenty taels—that’s twenty thousand copper coins!

He wrote spring couplets for others at five coins per pair. Twenty thousand coins equaled four thousand pairs! He couldn’t finish that in ten years!

Seeing Qi Xiu’s reaction, Qian Yuchuan smiled even wider. As a man of wealth, he had seen this response many times—it was only natural.

“Very well…”

With such a sum before him, Qi Xiu was about to agree without hesitation, but a calm voice interrupted.

“Thirty taels.”

“What?”

Both pairs of eyes turned to Qian Yuze, who smiled faintly.

“Third Brother, what do you mean?” Qian Yuchuan asked, raising his brows in displeasure.

“It’s simple. Qi Xiu is talented, and I appreciate talent. You wish to hire him; so do I. In that case, the highest offer wins,” Qian Yuze said with a trace of mischief.

“Competing in wealth, hmm.” Qian Yuchuan snorted arrogantly, stretched out his hand, and said, “You win. Farewell!”

“Huh?”

That was decisive!

Qi Xiu watched Qian Yuchuan stride away and turned to Qian Yuze, who smiled lightly, full of questions.

“My second brother has a passion for martial arts. Most of his money goes to buying tonics and hiring teachers. He really doesn’t have much spare cash. Don’t mind him,” Qian Yuze explained, then took out a heavily worn rubbing from the side.

“Take a look at this.”

“This is… ‘The Authentic Script of Monk Huai’?”

Qi Xiu was stunned when he saw the rubbing.

Monk Huai was a master of calligraphy and painting from the previous dynasty, famed for excellence in both arts and particularly skilled in cursive script. Due to the ravages of war, few of his original works survived, but his reputation remained widespread, testament to the greatness of his art.

That Qian Yuze possessed a rubbing of his authentic script—this must be worth several thousand taels at least!

“Good eye. It is ‘The Authentic Script of Monk Huai,’” Qian Yuze said, smiling as Qi Xiu recognized the rubbing.

“In one month, it will be my father’s sixtieth birthday. Monk Huai’s surname before ordination was Qian, so he shares some lineage with our family. My father is particularly fond of his calligraphy and paintings. I searched for this rubbing for two years, spending three thousand taels of silver before I finally acquired it.”

“So you wish to present this rubbing as a birthday gift to your father?” Qi Xiu speculated.

“No, the rubbing is valuable, but money can buy it. Its meaning is limited.”

“Then what do you intend?”

“I want you to study and imitate ‘The Authentic Script of Monk Huai,’ then teach me.”

“Me?” Qi Xiu looked at Qian Yuze, puzzled.

“There are many calligraphy masters in Danqing Pavilion. Why choose me?”

He found it hard to believe in such good fortune, especially one so extravagant and generous.

“Monk Huai’s brushwork is slender yet powerful, fluid and natural, wild yet controlled, ever-changing and difficult for most to truly emulate. The calligraphers in my pavilion have fixed styles, bound by their own frameworks, making imitation harder. But yesterday, I saw your writing—bold, unrestrained, spirited. It carries something akin to Monk Huai’s intent. That’s why I called you here,” Qian Yuze explained calmly.

For this birthday, my eldest brother has spent a fortune acquiring a life-sized white jade Guanyin; my second brother was lucky enough to find a century-old red sage root. If I only present ‘The Authentic Script of Monk Huai,’ it would be on par with their gifts. But if I can master Monk Huai’s brushwork and compose a birthday tribute for my father, such heartfelt sincerity would far surpass any mere material offering.

“This…” Qi Xiu hesitated, gazing at the rubbing.

Piecework had become research work—the difficulty had skyrocketed.

Monk Huai was a grandmaster of calligraphy. His script was notoriously hard to imitate; to capture both form and spirit, and then teach it to another… Qi Xiu was unsure if his own skill was up to the task.

Seeing Qi Xiu hesitate, Qian Yuze placed something squarely on the stone table.

“Once the task is done, this will be your reward.”

Qi Xiu instinctively glanced at the table.

A silver note stamped with vermilion seal—one hundred taels!

“Deal!”

This wasn’t mere fortune—it was a banquet fit for an emperor!