The world of film and television begins with Hikaru no Go

"You'll begin learning characters tomorrow, starting with the first line of the Thousand Character Classic." Di Renjie sat back down at his desk, took a sip of cool tea by candlelight, and said, "Your foundation isn't bad, you just lack some basic skills. Teaching is something that can't be rushed, but it can't be delayed either. You need to put your heart into it."

"Yes, Grandpa."

Judge Di paused, his fingers turning the pages of his book. "What did you just call me?"

"...Grandpa. You said before that I could call you Grandfather... Now you're teaching me to read..."

"You mentioned it." Di Renjie's finger landed back on the paper, turning the page, his movement a beat slower than before. "So be it."

The candlelight flickered gently inside the gauze cover. Judge Di continued reading the official gazette, occasionally glancing at the young man beside him between pages.

Zhang Rui sat down at some point and was fiddling with the fine sand in front of the sand table.

He cast no shadow; the candlelight pierced straight through him, landing on the chair without leaving a trace.

But the layer of fine sand covering the chair was being sliced ​​away by his fingertips, one line at a time.

The chirping of insects outside the window was sparse, and the candlelight burned steadily inside the gauze cover.

One flipped through the official gazette, the other swam in the sand, and neither of them spoke again.

On the table lay a half-written sheet of paper, which contained the few words Zhang Rui had dictated in the carriage that day. The writing was crooked, with strokes of varying thickness, and a few characters even had the radicals written incorrectly.

The bottom line is a note added by Judge Di, six small characters in regular script, each stroke standing firmly and proudly.

The chirping of insects outside the window was sparse, and the candlelight flickered gently inside the gauze cover.

The old man and the young man stayed there quietly, one reading the official gazette and the other paddling in the sand.

Horizontal lines should be horizontal, and vertical lines should be straight.

As I left Zhen Ding County at dawn, the scenery along the official road had changed.

The wheat stubble fields gradually disappeared, replaced by fields of millet. The millet stalks were waist-high, and the ears of grain hung heavily, rippling in waves of gray-green when the morning breeze blew through them.

The outline of the Taihang Mountains emerged from the horizon in the distance, initially as a pale blue hue, but as we got closer, the folds and ravines on the mountain ridges became visible.

Judge Di leaned against the carriage wall, holding the scroll of the Thousand Character Classic in his hand, but did not open it.

He peered out through the half-rolled-up carriage curtain for a while, then suddenly spoke: "This area belonged to Changshan Commandery during the Han Dynasty. Have you heard of Zhao Zilong of Changshan?"

Zhang Rui was leaning against the car window looking at the millet fields outside when he heard this and turned around: "Zhao Yun? I know him, a famous general of Shu Han."

"What else do you know?"

"He was from Changshan Zhen Ding. He served under Gongsun Zan and later followed Liu Bei. He rescued the Later Lord by charging in and out of Changban Slope seven times."

Zhang Rui stopped there, having already run out of food in his stomach.

"Anything else?"

"...I don't know."

"Knowing that Zhao Yun rescued the Later Lord at Changban Slope is a crucial point," Di Renjie said, placing the Thousand Character Classic on his lap. "However, you must remember that Zhao Yun's biography in Chen Shou's Records of the Three Kingdoms is only a little over a thousand words. The rescue of the Later Lord at Changban Slope is a fact, but the story of him charging in and out seven times is something added by later storytellers. The worst thing when reading history is to mistake fictional accounts for historical fact..."

Zhang Rui nodded. To be honest, his impressions of Zhao Yun all came from short video clips of "New Three Kingdoms" that he casually scrolled through; he hadn't even seriously read "Romance of the Three Kingdoms."

While in the world of "Hikaru no Go", I did catch up on the old TV series "Romance of the Three Kingdoms", but it was quite far from the official history.

The carriage swayed and rolled over a rut, causing the water in the copper kettle to ripple slightly.

Di Renjie leaned against the carriage wall, his gaze fixed on the approaching Taihang Mountains outside the window.

This child grasps numerology quickly and can also grasp the key points of history, but unfortunately, he only knows a little bit of both, without any systematic understanding.

After a while, Di Renjie opened the Thousand Character Classic in his hand and pointed to the line "Cold comes and heat goes, autumn harvest and winter storage".

"Let's continue reading from where we left off yesterday."

"The leap year completes the cycle, and the musical scales harmonize the seasons."

After reciting this sentence, Zhang Rui stopped.

The phrase "Run Yu Cheng Sui" refers to the principle of leap months. Yesterday, Di Renjie explained the rule of leap months every three years and leap months every five years on the official road. Now that we are reading this phrase again, the words and meaning match up.

What does "律吕" mean?

"‘Lülü’ refers to musical scales. Lü represents Yang, and Lü represents Yin. The six Lü and six Lü together form a set of rules used by the ancients to determine pitch." Di Gong stretched out his fingers and gestured in the air. "Huangzhong, Dalu, Taicu, Jiazhong... you will encounter these when you read the Book of Rites later. For today, just remember that ‘Lülü harmonizes Yang’ refers to using musical scales to harmonize Yin and Yang. This is the ancients' idea. In reality, the calendar relies on observation, not musical scales."

Zhang Rui nodded and made a mental note of the distinction.

Di Renjie's teaching style has a unique characteristic: he talks about the ancients' sayings, but also about their limitations.

This way of speaking made Zhang Rui feel very reassured. He didn't need to pretend to believe it; he just needed to know that someone had thought this way before.

On the third day after leaving Zhending County, the official road began to climb uphill.

The outline of the Taihang Mountains pressed in inch by inch from the distant horizon. At first, it was a grayish-blue hue, then gradually the folds of varying depths on the ridges became visible, and later even the ochre-brown stains on the rock walls became clear.

It was late autumn, and the shrubs on the mountain had turned large patches of scorched yellow, with only a few dark green patches remaining in the shady folds.

The carriage moved slowly, the hooves of the two horses pawing the slope, making the copper bells ring louder than on flat ground.

Di Renjie leaned against the carriage wall, his gaze falling through the half-rolled-up curtain at the window, seemingly looking at the mountains, yet also seemingly seeing nothing at all.

After a few days of investigation, we have a general idea of ​​the child's background.

Numerology is my strong suit, and I grasped the calendar very quickly. I'm not very literate, but I learn quickly.

It's not that I'm afraid of a weak foundation, it's that I'm afraid of a chaotic foundation. This child isn't chaotic, he's just scattered.

Zhang Rui was sitting in the opposite seat, practicing calligraphy while hunched over the sand table.

Last night at the post station, Di Chun sifted the old sand, and the fine sand was spread out again, shimmering with a light beige color under the lamplight.

He wrote the character "怀" on the sand, and both times it was squeezed together, with the "heart" radical and the "clothing" radical indistinguishable. Characters with left and right structures always seem to be fighting.

"The heart radical should be drawn inwards, while the clothing radical should be extended outwards." Di Renjie, having turned his gaze away from the window at some point, casually remarked, "The character '怀' (huái, meaning 'to hold' or 'to cherish') should be kept in the heart. If the heart is written too large, there's nowhere to hang the clothing."

Zhang Rui smoothed out the sand and rewrote it.

The third time, the structure was a bit looser, and the strokes were still crooked, but at least the "heart" was separate from the "clothes," and they were no longer stuck together.

West of Zhen Ding, past Huolu and Jingxing, lies the Taihang Mountains.

Whenever he passed through a village or encountered a stele, Judge Di would inquire about it.

Zhang Rui's answers were still somewhat hesitant, but much better than a few days ago.

At least I won't stare blankly at the character "tree" anymore, nor will I skip over "陉" as if it were a new character.

While stopping for a meal at Jingxing Pass, Di Renjie saw several lines of poems inscribed on the wall of the inn.

The ink had faded, smoked by the stove smoke, and rubbed off by travelers from all directions. It took me a while to decipher it before I could slowly read it aloud.

It was left by a passing official from the previous dynasty, who lamented the perilous Taihang Mountains and the arduous path of an official.

There are also several poems written by later generations on the wall, some with old ink and some with slightly newer ink, long and short, squeezed together on a whitewashed wall.