The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

Wang Zhonghua frankly said, "To be honest, I am just a soup vendor. I do not seek fame or fortune. I only wish for peace in my hometown and safety for the people around me. If I can use this meager strength to benefit more people, that would be my wish."

"Oh?" Mr. Ouyang's admiration deepened. "Not coveting the halls of power, but devoted to your homeland and helping the people... Young friend, your aspirations are truly admirable. There are not many young people like you these days."

He subtly changed the subject, seemingly casually mentioning, "I've heard that the Chenzhou government is planning a victory banquet soon. Are you aware of this, young friend?"

Wang Zhonghua felt a chill run down his spine, but his face remained impassive: "I've heard a little about it."

Mr. Ouyang smiled and said, "Young friend, you reside in Chenzhou. Could you perhaps elaborate on the importance of Chenzhou to the capital?"

Wang Zhonghua smiled and said, "I know a little about it. Chenzhou is located southeast of Bianjing, only about 300 li away. Its territory borders Ying and Cai, and controls the Yangtze and Huai Rivers. It is truly the southeastern shield of the capital and the shoulder of the court. But to explain in more detail is really not my forte."

Then Mr. Ouyang said meaningfully, "The importance of Chenzhou lies in four aspects:"

Firstly, it is strategically important. It is bordered by the Bian River to the north, the Huai and Si Rivers to the south, Xu and Yan provinces to the east, and Wan and Luo provinces to the west, making it a place where all directions converge. If Chenzhou is not defended, enemy cavalry can easily advance north and besiege the city within ten days. Therefore, the safety of Bianjing depends on the survival of Chenzhou.

Secondly, it was a vital artery for the grain transport. Millions of shi (a unit of dry measure) of grain annually from the Jiangnan region were transported to the capital, all flowing from the Huai River into Bianjing (Kaifeng), inevitably passing through Chenzhou. When the transport route was unobstructed, the nation's lifeline flowed smoothly; when it was blocked, the capital was immediately impoverished. This truly was a matter of national lifeline.

Thirdly, it was the source of the army's food supplies. Chenzhou had fertile soil and extensive irrigation systems, resulting in abundant harvests every year, earning it the title of "Granary of the Capital." The hundreds of thousands of troops guarding the capital consumed enormous amounts of grain and fodder daily, largely supplied by Chenzhou.

Fourthly, the people's spirit is reliable. Chenzhou has been home to many heroes since ancient times, and its people are simple, honest, and righteous, making them dependable in times of emergency. Moreover, it is a vital passage between the north and south, ensuring smooth communication and allowing for immediate response to news from the capital.

As a strategically important location near the capital, Chenzhou boasts a rich literary tradition, and there will undoubtedly be much poetry and prose recitation on the occasion. If you have some free time, young friend, why not go and take a look? Perhaps… you'll find something quite special.”

After saying this, he nodded slightly to Wang Zhonghua, then leaned on his bamboo cane and, with his page, drifted away, his figure quickly disappearing into the willow path by the lake.

"This old gentleman has an extraordinary air about him," Qin Tiehua said in a low voice.

Liu Xinyi nodded slightly: "His steps are steady and his breathing is long and even, as if he also knows some about health preservation."

Du Ziteng leaned closer, blinking, "Young Master Wang, this old man is acting mysteriously, and his words are shrouded in mystery. But he doesn't seem to have any ill intentions towards us?"

Wang Zhonghua gazed in the direction Ouyang Xiu had disappeared, a slight ripple stirring within him. He vaguely sensed that this mysterious old man seemed to know something and had shown him goodwill. This made him less apprehensive and more expectant of the upcoming victory banquet.

On the way back, Qin Tiehua couldn't help but ask, "Brother Zhonghua, who exactly is that old gentleman? You seem to respect him a lot."

Wang Zhonghua gazed in the direction of the String and Song Platform and murmured, "A remarkable person."

"Is he even more remarkable than General Di?"

Wang Zhonghua thought for a moment, then said seriously, "They are different, but they are both remarkable. General Di is a hero who killed enemies on the battlefield, and this old gentleman is..." He paused, "...a person who set the rules for this era."

Qin Tiehua seemed to understand, but seeing Wang Zhonghua's serious expression, he didn't ask any more questions.

Liu Xinyi whispered from the side, "If that old man's eyes could have been treated sooner, perhaps there would still be some chance of recovery. If you, young master, can create that 'magnification device,' it would indeed be a meritorious deed."

Wang Zhonghua nodded.

He knew that Ouyang Xiu's eye ailment would eventually worsen, and that diabetes would take his life. But he also knew that this literary giant, even in his illness, would use his last glimmer of light to complete the immortal work, "Collection of Ancient Records."

Such a spirit is worthy of his utmost efforts to help.

"Let's go," he said. "Once we get back, we need to speed things up. Microscopes, glass, new drugs... we have to make them all, one by one."

Qin Tiehua gripped the "Jinghong" sword at his waist and nodded vigorously.

Liu Xinyi gazed into the distance, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

The three figures gradually blended into the myriad lights of Chenzhou City.

Dusk was falling on the shore of Xian Ge Lake.

Ouyang Xiu stood by the lake, gazing at the darkening sky, remaining silent for a long time.

The pageboy whispered a reminder, "Master, it's getting late, you should go home."

Ouyang Xiu nodded, but then suddenly asked, "What did you think of that young man just now?"

The pageboy thought for a moment: "His speech and actions don't seem like those of a country boy."

Ouyang Xiu smiled.

"It doesn't seem like it," he said. "His lyrics weren't written by him either."

The pageboy was taken aback: "Then...who wrote that?"

Ouyang Xiu shook his head: "I don't know. But he dared to admit it, he was able to cover it up, and he even knew whether my eyes were diseased or injured. This thoughtfulness and courage are rare."

He turned around and slowly walked back the way he came.

"If I have the chance another day, I will definitely go and see that Hulu Bay."

The pageboy responded and followed behind him.

As dusk fell, the old man's figure gradually blurred, leaving only the "tap-tap" sound of his bamboo cane striking the bluestone slabs, which carried far, far away in the cold wind.

"Let's go," Wang Zhonghua said, a smile playing on his lips. "Du Ziteng, how's the shop look? Take us to see it. Our 'Xiange Tower' might come in handy soon."

He had a premonition that the victory celebration in Chenzhou would be anything but peaceful. And this Mr. Ouyang, whom he had met by chance, might become an unexpected variable at the banquet. The fog ahead seemed to have lifted somewhat, but the undercurrents beneath the surface were likely to become even more turbulent.

There were still two days until the opening of the Xiange Tower. Wang Zhonghua led everyone on a tour of Chenzhou's famous scenic spots, both to relax and to find some inspiration for the soon-to-open restaurant.

The first stop was the Taihao Mausoleum. Within the solemn mausoleum grounds, ancient cypress trees reached for the sky, and incense smoke wafted through the air. Wang Zhonghua stood solemnly before the mausoleum of Fuxi, the ancestor of humanity, his heart filled with countless emotions. He whispered to Qin Tiehua and Liu Xinyi beside him, "Fuxi opened the heavens with a single stroke, creating the Eight Trigrams, understanding the virtues of the gods, and classifying the emotions of all things. We, his descendants, should have a pioneering spirit and live up to the wisdom of our ancestors."

Liu Xinyi said softly, "The Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic says, 'The ancient people who knew the Dao followed the principles of Yin and Yang.' Fuxi's creation of the Eight Trigrams was the beginning of the Yin-Yang Dao, which has a deep connection with our medical practice." She looked at the Eight Trigrams pattern carved on the stone in front of the mausoleum, lost in thought.

Qin Tiehua didn't understand any of this; she simply stood quietly beside Wang Zhonghua, her gaze occasionally drifting to his resolute, sunny profile. In the sunlight, his face was sharply defined, his brows displaying a composure beyond his years. She suddenly remembered the year bandits roamed the village, when he sheltered her behind a woodpile, his profile mirroring hers, his eyes filled with the same calm composure.

Back then she was just a young girl, and now...

She glanced down at the "Jinghong" sword at her waist; the hilt was smooth and warm from being polished in her palm. She had forged this sword herself, each strike carrying her heart. But she had never told him that when she was forging that sword, she wasn't thinking of the sword, but of him.

Thinking of this, my face flushed, and I quickly looked away.

As you walk deeper into the back garden, a bright and open space suddenly opens up before you.

A colossal ancient tree stands in the garden, its gnarled branches coiling like dragons and snakes, enduring a thousand years of wind and rain, yet still vigorous and upright. Most remarkably, these trees are clearly two, yet their roots are connected, their branches intertwined, making them indistinguishable, like a pair of lovers embracing for a thousand years.

Beneath the tree, red wishing ribbons were tied in abundance. Thick and thin branches were densely covered with strips of cloth, handkerchiefs, and brocade pouches of various colors, fluttering gently in the morning breeze, like a red cloud or countless beating hearts.

"This is the conjoined tree," the temple keeper leading the way said with a smile. "Legend has it that Fuxi and Nuwa became husband and wife here, and this tree is their witness. For thousands of years, countless devout men and women have made wishes here, praying for marriage, marital harmony, and a long and happy life together. It is said that those who are sincere will surely have their wishes fulfilled."

Qin Tiehua stood blankly under the tree, gazing up at the ribbons that carried countless wishes. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on her face.

She suddenly remembered her mother.

When my mother was alive, she often said, "Tiehua, I have no hope in this life, I just hope that you will find someone who cares for you and live a good life together."

She didn't understand at the time and even retorted, "I'm not getting married, I want to work as a blacksmith with my father!"

Her mother chuckled and poked her forehead: "Silly girl, daughters grow up and leave home; keeping them will only breed resentment."

Now that her mother is gone, she has grown up.

She looked down at her hands—hands that had wielded hammers, forged iron, killed people, hunted leopards, and been stained with blood. Rough and hard, with thick calluses on her knuckles and healed scars on the base of her thumb and forefinger.

I'm just a blacksmith; with hands like these, which man would dare to hold them?