The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Ouyang Xiu turned to look at her, his gaze softening slightly: "Young lady, I've had this eye ailment for quite some time. I studied too hard when I was young, which damaged my eyesight; later, I suffered some misfortune, and my anger and frustration made things even worse. Now, I can only see people through a fog, and I can only write in the dark. It's truly frustrating."

As he spoke, he coughed a few more times, his face becoming increasingly flushed.

Liu Xinyi had been observing quietly, and now spoke softly, "Old sir, your face is flushed and your breathing is short. Do you often feel thirsty and unable to quench your thirst?"

Ouyang Xiu was taken aback and looked at the elegant young woman: "Does the young lady understand medicine?"

Liu Xinyi bowed slightly: "This junior has some knowledge of this matter. Your symptoms sound like 'diabetes'."

A flicker of surprise crossed Ouyang Xiu's eyes, quickly turning to bitterness: "Young lady, you have a good eye. My diabetes has indeed worsened in recent years. The doctor advised me to abstain from alcohol, avoid agitation, and eat a light diet, but I..." He shook his head, "With something on my mind, how can I abstain?"

Wang Zhonghua understood. He knew that Ouyang Xiu had suffered greatly from diabetes in his later years and eventually died from it. Seeing him now, with his symptoms already showing, yet still persevering, he couldn't help but feel a sense of respect—this literary giant, even though his body was tormented by illness, his inherent scholarly pride remained undiminished.

"Sir," Wang Zhonghua said sincerely, "Although I am not skilled in medicine, I know a renowned doctor. If you do not mind, you can come to Hulu Bay for a short stay another day and let the renowned doctor Liu—that is, this Miss Liu's grandfather—treat you."

Ouyang Xiu glanced at him, his gaze filled with a mixture of scrutiny and curiosity: "Young man, where are you from? Why do you possess such boldness, and why do you know such a renowned physician?"

Wang Zhonghua smiled and said, "I am Wang Zhonghua from Wangjiagang, Shangshui County, Chenzhou. The divine doctor's surname is Liu and his given name is Jueming. He was originally an old immortal who lived in seclusion in the deep mountains. Now, I have invited him down the mountain and opened a place called 'Sanshenglu' in Huluwan."

"Sanshenglu?" Ouyang Xiu pondered the name. "A lifetime dedicated to understanding medicine, a lifetime to saving lives, a lifetime... to studying the Dao?"

"Sir, your insight is profound." Wang Zhonghua nodded. "That is exactly what I meant."

Ouyang Xiu was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Was that poem you just wrote really yours?"

Wang Zhonghua was taken aback, but then he understood—a literary master like Ouyang Xiu had an almost instinctive sensitivity to language. He must have sensed the outdated flavor in the poem.

"To be honest, sir," Wang Zhonghua said frankly, "this poem was something I saw in a dream. In the dream, there were immortals chanting it, and when I woke up, I wrote it down, and that became this 'Partridge Sky'."

This statement, though bizarre, is not entirely a lie—Zhu Dunru's poems were indeed a "dream" of another world for him.

Ouyang Xiu stared at him for a long time, then suddenly smiled.

That smile held a clear-headed understanding that allowed him to see through things without saying a word, as well as a tolerance for the youth's cunning.

"What a 'dreamlike' scene!" He leaned on his bamboo cane, turned to the stage, and said, "Young man, would you like to take a walk with this old man?"

Wang Zhonghua readily agreed.

The two walked slowly along the lake shore, with Qin Tiehua and Liu Xinyi following at a distance, not disturbing their conversation.

A biting lake wind rustled the bare branches. Ouyang Xiu walked slowly, each step seeming as if he were measuring something. He suddenly spoke:

"When I was young, I was also full of ambition, thinking that with just a pen and a heart, I could save the world. During the Qingli Reforms, I worked day and night with Fan Zhongyan and Fu Bi, hoping to eliminate all the ills overnight." He stopped and looked at the lake. "And what happened? The reforms were abandoned, Fan Zhongyan left, Fu Bi left, and I left too."

Wang Zhonghua remained silent. He knew this history—the Qingli Reforms, a brief but tragic attempt at reform in the Northern Song Dynasty, which ultimately failed under attacks from conservatives. All the participants were demoted, and Ouyang Xiu was sent to Chuzhou as prefect, where he wrote the timeless masterpiece "The Pavilion of the Old Drunkard."

"During those two years in Chuzhou, I learned to drink," Ouyang Xiu chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Later I discovered that drinking couldn't relieve my sorrows. And then, I couldn't even drink anymore—my eyes and my body wouldn't allow it."

He pointed to his eyes: "I read too much when I was young, which damaged my eyesight early on. Now my eyes are dull and lifeless, and even writing is difficult."

Wang Zhonghua's heart stirred, recalling Ouyang Xiu's line in "Reading in Zhenyang": "Dust-covered words are fine, my ailing eyes are dull and lifeless." It turned out that this eye ailment had accompanied him for most of his life.

"What are you busy with these days, sir?" he asked.

Ouyang Xiu was silent for a moment, then slowly said, "I am compiling a book."

"Book?"

"The Collection of Ancient Inscriptions," Ouyang Xiu said, his eyes lighting up. "It collects inscriptions on bronze and stone from the Three Dynasties, examining their authenticity and tracing their origins. As an official, I traveled extensively, and wherever I went, I would collect rubbings. Now I have accumulated more than a thousand volumes, and I am slowly organizing them."

Wang Zhonghua was filled with awe. He knew the value of the *Jigu Lu*—it was the first work on epigraphy in Chinese history, pioneering the method of using epigraphy to verify history. Ouyang Xiu, despite political setbacks and poor health, was still able to dedicate himself to such a great undertaking; his composure and perseverance were truly admirable.

"Sir, you are a man of great talent, and I admire you greatly," he said sincerely.

Ouyang Xiu waved his hand: "What great talent? It's just a way to pass the time. The court can't tolerate me, so I find some solace in old books." He paused, then looked at Wang Zhonghua, "But you, young man, in your poem you said 'How often have I paid attention to princes and kings'? I ask you, if a prince or king truly valued you, what would you do?"

Wang Zhonghua thought for a moment and said earnestly, "I do not possess the worldly wisdom of you, sir, and am incapable of accomplishing great things to save the world. I only wish to protect this land and ensure that my fellow villagers have food to eat, clothes to wear, houses to live in, and medical care to receive. If anyone truly appreciates my abilities, I am willing to promote this method so that more people can benefit from it."

Ouyang Xiu looked at him with deep eyes.

"What you've done is the real deal," he said softly. "When I was young, I always dreamed of changing the world, but now I realize that ensuring the people of a region have enough to eat and wear is more practical than any new policy."

He reached out and patted Wang Zhonghua on the shoulder: "Young man, do a good job. Although my eyesight is failing, I can still judge people well—you're a capable person."

A warm feeling welled up in Wang Zhonghua's heart. To gain the approval of someone like Ouyang Xiu was more precious than anything else.

"Sir," he suddenly remembered something, "I've built a 'Three Lives Abode' in Hulu Bay and invited Physician Liu to practice there. If you have some free time, why not come and stay for a few days? Firstly, let the Physician treat you, and secondly..." He smiled, "I also have some little gadgets that I've come up with myself, which might just catch your eye."

"Oh?" Ouyang Xiu's interest was piqued. "What little gadget?"

"For example..." Wang Zhonghua thought for a moment, "a mirror that can magnify words. Your eyesight is not good, so if you had such a thing, it might save you some effort."

A glint flashed in Ouyang Xiu's eyes: "Is this true?"

"This junior dares not presume to speak," Wang Zhonghua said earnestly. "It is still in the experimental stage and will take some time. Once it is completed, I will personally deliver it to you, sir."

Ouyang Xiu remained silent for a long time, then suddenly smiled.

That smile held a mixture of relief, emotion, and a long-lost sense of anticipation.

"Very well," he said. "I'll be waiting."

The two walked for a while longer, until the sun began to set, before reluctantly parting ways.

As they were parting, Ouyang Xiu suddenly called out to Wang Zhonghua: "Young man, there's another line in your poem—'Let's get drunk in Luoyang with plum blossoms in our hair.' It's not the season for plum blossoms to bloom now, but I'll give you that line as a return gift."

He gazed at the stage and slowly recited:

"I was once a guest beneath the flowers of Luoyang; though the wild blossoms bloom late, there is no need to lament."

These are lines he wrote in Chuzhou. At that time, he had been demoted from the capital and his future was uncertain, but in the poem he told himself and his friends: We once saw the most beautiful flowers in Luoyang, and now we are in the wilderness, where the flowers bloom later, but there is no need to sigh.

Wang Zhonghua understood.

He was telling Wang Zhonghua: Life has its ups and downs, but as long as there are flowers in your heart, they can bloom everywhere.

"Thank you, sir." Wang Zhonghua bowed deeply.

The old man stroked his beard and smiled, his gaze lingering on Wang Zhonghua's face for a moment before sweeping over Qin Tiehua and Liu Xinyi beside him, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

He turned to Wang Zhonghua and asked with interest, "Judging from your words and actions, you are not someone who only knows how to compose poems about the wind and moon. From the meaning of your poem just now, it seems that you are not very concerned about fame and fortune?"