Chapter 28: Farewell

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Liu Yitiao glanced at the four onlookers, smiled confidently, and dipped his brush in ink. On the bright red rice paper, he wrote a couplet.

The upper line read: “Three feet of platform, three inches of tongue, three inches of brush—three thousand students.”
The lower line: “Ten years to grow trees, ten years of wind, ten years of rain—one hundred thousand pillars.”

The characters were bold and vigorous, the ink sinking deep into the paper. The calligraphy skills he had painstakingly practiced as a child on squared notebooks finally found their purpose today.

Setting the brush aside, Liu Yitiao turned to Li Rusi and said, “Young Master Li, what do you think of this couplet? Is there anything amiss?”

Li Rusi took a long while to tear his gaze from the rice paper. Looking at Liu Yitiao, he replied, “Brother Liu, your talent astounds me! With just a few strokes, you encapsulate the teacher’s toil and virtue—this is truly a matchless couplet.” He then gestured at the script on the paper, adding, “But even more than the couplet itself, I am awed by your calligraphy. Your writing bears the bones of regular script, the vigor of the Ou style, the elegance of Wang Xizhi, yet remains distinct from them all. The forms are upright, the angles sharp, the lines orderly and clear, imbued with charm. It seems to be a new script altogether. May I ask which master you studied under? If the opportunity arises, I would very much like to pay my respects.”

“Uh...” Liu Yitiao was momentarily stunned. He looked at the characters, then realized—what he had written resembled Song typeface. Yet, this was the Tang dynasty; the Song was still far in the future.

Seeing all four fix their expectant eyes on him, Liu Yitiao recalled the original creator of Song typeface, Qin Hui, and felt no guilt as he began his career of imitation. “Brother Li flatters me. This script is merely something I invented while idly practicing, not worthy of such praise.”

“Ah?!” The four were astonished, staring at the plainly dressed, unremarkable man who claimed to be a farmer. It seemed impossible that he possessed such mastery in calligraphy, enough to create a new script—a feat comparable to the three great contemporary masters.

“Never did I expect Brother Liu’s literary talent to be matched by such extraordinary skill in calligraphy. I was truly discourteous just now.” Li Rusi bent over and saluted Liu Yitiao. Liu Yitiao could tell this was not mere formality, but heartfelt respect.

“My earlier offense, sir, please forgive me. I offer my apologies,” Li Rusi’s young attendant also stepped forward to bow to Liu Yitiao, his expression sincere.

Huang Zichu and his helper Xiao Wu followed suit, making Liu Yitiao feel bewildered. Was inventing a new script really so remarkable, to inspire such sudden reverence?

Unused to this treatment, Liu Yitiao waved his hands repeatedly. “There’s no need for such ceremony. I am only a farmer, unworthy of such honor.” Turning to Li Rusi, he said, “Since you appreciate my calligraphy, shall I write a couplet for you? How about the one you suggested earlier?”

“It is precisely what I wished for, though I dared not ask!” Li Rusi was overjoyed, bowing in gratitude.

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“Sir Liu, might I ask you to write one for my shop as well?” Huang Zichu could not help but interject. Afraid Liu Yitiao would refuse, he quickly added, “I am willing to pay ten strings of silver for your brushwork.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Huang Zichu regretted them—not for the money, but for fear of offending Liu Yitiao. Who would dare name a price for a master’s calligraphy in his presence? Wasn’t that akin to throwing mud on a master’s face?

Li Rusi gave him a displeased glare, his expression full of contempt, as if he could smell the stench of money wafting from Huang Zichu.

“Oh? The shopkeeper values me so highly? Then I must not let you down. What would you like me to write?” Liu Yitiao accepted the commission naturally. Ten strings of silver—enough to pay for healing five cows.

“Uh?...” He agreed?! Huang Zichu’s face showed delight, while Li Rusi and his attendant were taken aback.

How could he agree? How could he sell himself for a few strings of silver? Looking at Liu Yitiao’s coarse clothing and the basket filled almost entirely with garlic, Li Rusi quickly decided it must be due to hardship at home; after all, masters are human and must fill their bellies.

He is a poor master. Everyone present thought so. Yet, unbeknownst to them, Liu Yitiao was not poor at all, and had just found a lucrative path to wealth.

“Just write the couplet you matched earlier,” Huang Zichu hastily requested, fearing Liu Yitiao might change his mind.

“Certainly, let me finish Brother Li’s couplet first,” Liu Yitiao agreed. He handed the completed couplet to Xiao Wu for mounting, then began writing for Li Rusi.

“On the tower’s summit, the gourd stands tall, clenched fists pound the daylight;
Upon the city wall, the arrow embrasure, teeth grow upside down to bite the blue sky.”

Twenty-two characters, perfectly matched and composed, rendered in Liu Yitiao’s Song typeface, exuded a commanding presence.

Li Rusi and his attendant nodded in approval. Compared to the regular script currently in use, Liu Yitiao’s creation seemed even more suited to written expression.

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Liu Yitiao dried the ink on the couplet and handed it to Li Rusi. “Brother Li, what do you think? Does it please your eye?”

“Excellent! Thank you for this treasure, Brother Liu. I am deeply grateful.” Li Rusi added, “Perhaps I should follow the shopkeeper’s example and offer ten strings of silver as well.”

“Ah, Brother Li, that is unnecessary.” Liu Yitiao waved his hand to refuse. “For you, it is a favor; for the shopkeeper, it is business. These must not be confused. Though I am poor, I am no miser. Do not take me for one so easily swayed.”

So it was true—he was a poor man.

“That was my oversight; please forgive me, Brother Liu.” Li Rusi saluted, then took a jade pendant from his waist and handed it to Liu Yitiao. “Meeting you today felt like old friends reuniting, but alas, time is short and I cannot linger. This jade was a gift from my father. I now pass it to you, as a token of remembrance. Please do not refuse.”

Farewell gifts were common enough; in school, at holidays or graduation, classmates would often exchange keepsakes. So Liu Yitiao accepted the jade without a second thought, entirely missing the surprise on the attendant’s face when Li Rusi gave it.

“You’re leaving already, Brother Li?” Liu Yitiao felt an unexpected pang of reluctance. This fair-faced scholar, though his looks made Liu Yitiao feel self-conscious, had a temperament that suited him well. He truly did not wish for him to depart so soon.

“If you’re not in a hurry, why not come to my home for a drink before you go?” Liu Yitiao invited warmly.

Li Rusi replied, “Thank you for your kindness, but I must hurry on. If fate allows, we may meet again. For now, I must take my leave.”

Liu Yitiao saluted, saying, “Safe travels, Brother Li. I wish you a smooth journey.”

Watching Li Rusi and his attendant exit the shop, Liu Yitiao suddenly realized he had not asked where Li Rusi was from. He hurried after them, but outside the door, they were already gone. Thinking Huang Zichu might know, he asked him.

Huang Zichu answered, “Those two young men were strangers, first time visiting my shop. Judging by their attire and accent, they’re not locals—more likely from the direction of the capital, Chang’an. If you wish to find them again, it may prove quite difficult.”