Horse-head Wall Reflects the Qing Dynasty

Chapter 110 Human Thoughts are Colorful, the Homeland is Sentimental, and Ink Splashes with Life

"Guan Yin, do you remember when you first came to the school? We took the students on a study tour and happened to run into that play."

Having been officially employed for over two years, Guan Yin has become familiar with her colleagues and is considered a top-rated teacher by her students. However, as a young teacher at the school, the older teachers still subconsciously treat her like a child, showing her a degree of care and consideration.

When they have free time, the teachers in the same grade group are always willing to chat with Guan Yin for a while and take the initiative to start a conversation, so as not to seem to value the old colleagues who have worked together for more than ten or twenty years and ignore the young people.

"Yes, that year's children also happened to have a different life experience."

Will those kids have similar experiences when they go to university? Will they ever think of talking to their teacher about their feelings? Guan Yin wondered silently to himself.

“Yes, it’s such a coincidence…” The former homeroom teacher nodded, agreeing with Guan Yin’s statement. “You rarely encounter something like this twice in your life. When these kids go to college, they might be more careful!”

"Yes, you make a good point." No amount of words can compare to personal experience, and Guan Yin has become accustomed to ignoring those difficult parents.

Parents are parents, and students are students. As long as they are willing to learn, Guan Yin will definitely teach them well. Even after his time-traveling experience, Guan Yin's understanding of teaching remains unclear.

Only when Guan Yin is on the verge of collapse due to misunderstandings from students, parents, or even society, does she try to find her true calling in teaching and consider the unexpected impact her words might have.

"And you're still talking about that boy? Did you keep in touch with him afterward?" The homeroom teacher asked casually, a habit typical of middle-aged people, always concerned about whether young people are married or have partners.

Guan Yin and Cheng Heng's lives didn't intersect much; one was a teacher, and the other was involved in opera, so they weren't going to have much interaction.

Aside from the initial photos and a few holiday greetings exchanged between us, all that's left is the superficial acquaintance through likes on social media...

"That boy who acts, he added you on WeChat back then." The homeroom teacher thought Guan Yin didn't realize who she was referring to, so she continued to explain, "I don't think he was just adding you on WeChat to ask for photos."

Is that so? Did Cheng Heng really have that dreamlike memory?
And what about Cheng Heng...?

"Sigh, forget it. If you can't even remember this person, it looks like there's no chance for you two."

The homeroom teacher's middle-aged traits came online at any time: "Guan Yin, now that you're working, you should look for a suitable partner, date, and get married."

"No rush." ​​Guan Yin's personality is too conventional. He's been a "good kid" since childhood. The most rebellious thing he's ever done is probably just in his dreams.

Guan Yin didn't have a boyfriend when she was young, and now that she's grown up, she doesn't really know what it means to be in a relationship. Occasionally, while watching TV dramas, she might yearn for a sweet romance, but such thoughts are fleeting.

"Hey, you young people are never in a hurry. By the time you start to panic, it will be too late!"

Young people all have their own headaches, and Cheng Heng is no exception.

"Or not."

Cheng Heng, who refused to force a traditional opera excerpt into a so-called live performance, was at a loss when asked to come up with a more reasonable plan within three days.

As many people say, it's easy to find fault, but difficult to make things better. Moreover, with a timeline looming, the pressure couldn't be transformed into motivation, and Cheng Heng's thinking became increasingly blocked.

Cheng Heng understood that rehearsing a short play was much easier than creating a new one. It was simply a more convenient method for everyone, and even more appealing than creating a new play.

However, a live-action opera performance on Huangshan Mountain, which aims to achieve the interactive effect of environmental drama while retaining the significance of "live-action," requires a specially crafted script, which is what Cheng Heng truly desires.

Leaning back on the sofa, looking at the e-books downloaded on his phone, Cheng Heng couldn't come up with any good ideas for a long time. His usual flow of inspiration seemed to have been suppressed by something.

"Look, he's here again."

A heavy fog obscured everything in front of him, and Cheng Heng couldn't see clearly, yet his body seemed to be moving forward uncontrollably.

"Yes, he's here again. What's he thinking this time?"

"He was thinking about... something he wanted to write."

After a long time apart, Yunniang, Shilang, and Qingsongling seemed to have never changed. They were still the same lively Yunniang and the same three fairy spirits who had no grudges against each other.

Why does he keep walking forward? Why doesn't he stop and look around? Why doesn't he turn around and look again?

Startled awake from his dream, Cheng Heng found the sky already bright. He lifted the phone that had been pressing against his chest and took several deep breaths to calm himself down.

"Stop and look? Turn around and look?"

Since it's about mountains, then write about mountains. Since it's about the past, then write about the cultural heritage of Huizhou.

They met again amidst the pines and clouds of the famous mountain, their paths leading to the same goal, though different. Ultimately, they embarked on the paths they had chosen for themselves… Their next encounter was when Guan Yin brought his students to see this live-action opera performance.

When Yunniang, Shilang, and Qingsongling reappeared in his memory, Guan Yin was slightly stunned.

Unlike the previous story with Miss Guan, this time it's about Qingsong Ling and Xuan paper and Huizhou ink, Shi Lang and literati calligraphy and painting, and Yun Niang and the ethereal Taoist culture.

It doesn't adhere to traditional love stories, nor does it feature any profound tales of upright officials and treacherous ministers; it's a story that even young children can find enjoyable.

A sheet of Xuan paper, random tourists, whatever they write or draw, Qingsongling will say it's good.

The Xin'an School of painting, mountains and rocks, and Huizhou—this is yet another story that flows freely.

The story ends without any outpouring of emotion, leaving only a sense of intoxicating "comfort" as the sole emotional value offered to the viewer.

Guan Yin didn't know how to evaluate this seemingly ordinary yet extraordinary play—just like Cheng Heng himself. In his WeChat Moments, Guan Yin already knew that Cheng Heng had rehearsed a live-action opera in Huangshan, even before the school's planned study tour.

The program list prominently features the words of screenwriter and director Cheng Heng.

"Originally, I thought this dream was a sign from Huangshan, a spirit that wanted to tell me something... Now, looking back, all that 'exquisite writing' and 'divine guidance' was just my own feeling."

It's not that the mountains are spiritual or that the mountains point the way; it's that people's hearts point the way.

Cheng Heng wasn't there; Guan Yin saw the reason on his WeChat Moments. Cheng Heng was busy leading his play to Beijing for a performance, which conveniently clashed with Guan Yin's schedule.

"Is this the boy from last time?"

“Add me.” This time, Guan Yin spoke before her longtime class teacher could. “Isn’t he here this time?”

"His newly adapted play was performed in Beijing." Guan Yin felt inexplicably disappointed. Perhaps it was the series of coincidences that made Guan Yin feel that chance encounters between the two should be the norm.

This time, having just missed it, Guan Yin felt somewhat uneasy.

"This boy is quite capable," the homeroom teacher said earnestly. "I heard you say he's from Huangshan. Why don't you two give it a try?"

“I work in Beijing now, and he’s in Huangshan. Doesn’t that mean we’re in a long-distance relationship?” Guan Yin said, somewhat amused and exasperated. Only after she finished speaking did she seem to realize that she didn’t actually resist her colleague’s suggestion to “give it a try.”

"What's wrong with long-distance relationships? High-speed rail is so convenient these days!"

"You two are destined to be together, but if you don't fight for it, you'll miss out forever."

It's unclear where this colleague, who's been a homeroom teacher for years, got all those twisted theories from. Before long, he was leading Guan Yin astray. Guan Yin thought to himself that perhaps this separation of thousands of miles between them, one in the south and one in the north, was proof that their connection was slowly fading away, and it was almost over, with no more contact between them...

"I was just saying that, don't take it to heart. I was just randomly pairing people up."

Guan Yin's silence led his colleagues to mistakenly believe that something they said had displeased Guan Yin, so they hurriedly added this sentence, which stopped the students from starting to descend the mountain.

"It's not like I just randomly picked..."

Naturally, they didn't notice when Guan Yin's muttering, which was almost inaudible even to himself, began.

A thin mist, green pines, and the occasional glimmer of sunlight. In less than half an hour, the wind on Huangshan Mountain swept up the clouds, and the clouds hid Xihe (the sun goddess), and so it went, with the weather changing from clear to dark, and from dark to clear again, making it impossible to figure out.

Taking students on study tours is not as tiring as taking friends hiking. To ensure the students' safety, the hikes are not too long, and the students are never given the opportunity to encounter steep paths.

The trip left both students and teachers feeling somewhat unsatisfied—Guan Yin had bought seasonal loquats for the students, washed them, and personally delivered them to each room.

Once the long-awaited study tour begins, its end is not far off. After the tour, students return to school, and everything returns to the routine of each week.

As a history teacher, Guan Yin is responsible for eight classes in one grade. Each class has two history lessons a week, which is a total of sixteen lessons.

Teachers were scheduled to attend one full day and two afternoons as much as possible. The extra class was unavoidable and was scheduled for Friday, when teachers were required to be on duty.

Logically, this kind of care is usually reserved for teachers who have children at home or are nearing retirement. Fortunately, the atmosphere at the school is good, and they only wanted to take care of all the teachers as much as possible—the main subject teachers have to teach one class a day, so there was really no other way.

"Teacher, what do you think of time-travel novels? I feel like if I were to travel back in time, I really wouldn't survive even one episode."

After the exams were over and the papers were reviewed, it was clear that Guan Yin was a good teacher and the students made few mistakes. Since it was rare that no teachers of major subjects were available to teach, the teachers and students took the opportunity to chat.

"Hmm, a time-travel novel? Just read it for fun, you won't time travel anyway." Guan Yin's gaze wandered for a moment, then he added, "Times are different, productivity and means of production determine a lot. Protecting yourself and the people around you is enough."

"Teacher, teacher, if I go back to 1840, can I bring a system with me and just drive all the bad guys away?"

"Then let's just resurrect Qin Shi Huang and kill all the foreigners!"

As they chatted, the students' topic veered off course, leaving Guan Yin with nothing but a smile as he looked at these vibrant young people—in this era, they didn't have to worry about their own or those around them's survival; they could live a good life.

Two months later, Guan Yin returned to his hometown of Huangshan during the summer vacation as he had wished.

We meet again on a long road ahead, laughing at the past and remembering the present. Who could have imagined that this lukewarm relationship, which I thought would continue for two or three years, would remain just that—a friendship between two gentlemen, as light as water?

But the person in front of them just happened to appear, having crossed an almost impossible distance of thousands of miles, and the two of them just happened to meet on this small bluestone road—as if it were destined that their story would not end so hastily.

The bluestone bricks were soaked by the fine rain, and Guan Yin and Cheng Heng bumped into each other unexpectedly, walking together along the scent.

"What a coincidence, you've come home to rest for a few days?" After walking a few steps side by side, Cheng Heng couldn't help but speak first.

"It's summer vacation, so I came back for a stroll." Guan Yin had been to this old street when he was a child. The cobblestone road back then was no different from it now, except that the steps on both sides of the houses occasionally extended inward, making the original road look a bit narrower...

"Oh, after working for a while, I've lost track of when it's winter or summer vacation."

Cheng Heng didn't bring an umbrella, and the sudden rain made him look a bit disheveled, so Guan Yin moved his umbrella closer to him: "Let's share it, where are you going?"

"I saw a nice dried tofu shop here on a social media platform a couple of days ago. I was planning to go out and check it out since I didn't have any rehearsals today, but I forgot to check the weather forecast."

Cheng Heng explained his oversight, as if "not bringing an umbrella" was just an excuse to deliberately get closer to Guan Yin, which would only push the two of them further apart.

"Oh, I came here when I was a child, and it doesn't look like anything has changed."

The two remained silent in the rain, not paying much attention to the splashing water wetting their trouser legs. It was as if the rain had the ability to amplify the fragrance, making the aroma of the dried sesame even stronger and more intense in their nostrils.

So when the dried tofu shop came closer, the two of them tried it, bought some, and then took shelter from the rain at the shop's place.

"I'll go get you some chairs."

Following the direction the shopkeeper was taking the bench, Guan Yin saw a portrait hanging on the wall. At the same time, Cheng Heng spoke up: "Teacher, who is this in the painting?"

“My family has been a century-old shop. It is said that my great-grandmother dreamed of such a girl, so she drew her.”

Looking at the woman in the painting, Guan Yin and Cheng Heng exchanged a glance—some stories are like dreams, like the story of Zhuangzi dreaming of a butterfly. No one can say for sure whether it was Zhuangzi dreaming of a butterfly or the butterfly dreaming of Zhuangzi.

The rain stopped, the sky cleared, and the two walked out of the shop together.

"Later, Liu Jiao'an opened a dried tofu shop and even sent me dried tofu to eat."

"It's a pity that I turned back first, and now it's been three years since I last got to taste it."

Whether this is a time travel or a dream spanning a century, where we are intertwined, no one can say for sure now.

In the days to come, the story of Guan Yin and Cheng Heng will be witnessed by Yun Niang, Shi Lang, and Qing Song Ling. There will also be stories on the stage and the lecture hall, teaching each other about life.

Within the scrolls of calligraphy and painting, the long-cherished dreams of the past unfold. Where ink and brush touch, the mountains and rivers remain eternal.