PFC Chapter 393 The Little Rhinoceros's Thoughts in Yingluo Lane
Chapter 393 The Little Rhinoceros's Thoughts in Yingluo Lane
In Youzhou during the Tianbao era, the autumn sun shone through the gaps in the locust trees, casting golden light on the bluestone slabs of Yingluo Lane. Ten-year-old Xiao Sizi stood under the eaves of the outer dormitory of the Imperial Academy, holding the "Thousand Character Classic," her gaze following the figure in an indigo-blue robe—her classmate Du Xiaobing, the head of the academy, with a four-layered brocade sash around his waist.
"Today is the ten-day exam. The headmaster will first demonstrate for the students." The professor struck the bronze chime. Du Xiaobing calmly walked onto the lecture platform. Although she needed to slightly tiptoe to fully unfold the Xuan paper on the table, her hand holding the pen was as steady as a rock. Xiao Sizi looked up from below the platform, watching the sunlight gild her friend's eyebrows, and thought that the four tassels on her bangs were more dazzling than anything else.
As the school bell rang, Xiao Sizi caught up with her: "Sister Xiao Bing, how did you become the dormitory head?" Du Xiao Bing was adjusting the jade pendant at her waist. Upon hearing this, her fingertips paused on the jade Pixiu, then she smiled broadly: "It's just that the teacher is too kind. Come on, let me treat you to the sugarcane juice amber cake at the alley entrance." This kind of conversation had been repeated many times, always dissolving into nothingness amidst the aroma of the sweet cake.
Little Sizi wasn't angry. She cherished this friendship as much as she cherished the single-tasseled green tassel in her book box—though it had been taken away by the teacher last month. "The newly arrived young master Ming needs encouragement even more," the professor stroked his long beard, "and Miss Sizi is the most sensible, isn't she?"
Indeed, Ming Xiaolang had just moved from Jiangnan and always practiced calligraphy behind a bamboo curtain. Xiao Sizi looked at the green tassel tied to his inkstone and felt a sense of emptiness, but still nodded: "I will leave it to you, sir." She turned her head and saw Du Xiaobing standing under the moon gate, his four layers of necklaces fluttering in the wind, and her grievances dissipated into the autumn wind.
Du Xiaobing never told Xiao Sizi the details of the selection of the head of the study, but he would teach her how to hide half an ink stick while practicing calligraphy so that she could draw a small turtle on the wall; he would stand up for Xiao Sizi when she was teased by naughty children; and he would give her half of a blue silk umbrella on rainy days. At these moments, Xiao Sizi felt that the necklaces and ribbons might not be so important.
After the Mid-Autumn Poetry Gathering, Xiao Sizi's "Ode to the Laurel" was ranked twelfth. She sat on the stone steps with her poetry scroll in her arms when Du Xiaobing suddenly came over and took her hand: "I'll take you somewhere."
They slipped into the deserted Confucius Temple. Du Xiaobing jumped onto the altar, his wide sleeves billowing in the wind: "Reciting poetry here, the echo is even more beautiful than the chime bells." Xiao Sizi burst into laughter through her tears. "You know what?" Du Xiaobing suddenly said, "The first time I received the sacrificial rites here, I was so nervous I almost dropped my scepter."
"But look how composed he is..."
“It’s all about practice,” Du Xiaobing said, gently touching Xiao Sizi’s empty waist. “Some character doesn’t necessarily need to be shown through sashes.”
That evening, two girls imitated the chant master reciting poetry in the temple, pronouncing "manifesting virtue" with perfect pronunciation. The setting sun carpeted the blue bricks with rosy light, and Xiao Sizi's verses echoed against the cypress trees, truly bringing back a resounding echo like the chimes of bells.
Twenty years later, Zhen Xiaosi stood before the newly built warehouse as the head of the silk guild. Banners fluttered, and the sandalwood table was just the right height for her. She suddenly remembered that temple at dusk, and the sly glint in Du Xiaobing's eyes when he said, "It's all practice."
“Actually, I never said it out loud,” she said to her old friend in the distance. “After that day, I asked the Doctor. He said that your four-layered necklace was because you volunteered to teach new classmates—including asking me to give the green tassel to Ming Xiaolang.”
Amidst thunderous applause, she took a deep breath, just like the young girl who once tiptoed to play the zither. "Business is not merely about pennies," her voice carried far through the incense smoke, "but also about yielding to each other, being tolerant in every instance, and steadfastly holding one's ground when no one is around."
Amidst the deafening clamor of gongs and drums, she seemed to see two young children standing at the back of the crowd, each with four layers of necklaces and a single green tassel around their waist. They waved to her, their skirts fluttering as before.
During the banquet, a shopkeeper asked curiously, "Why did Headmaster Zhen think of using the story of learning etiquette in childhood as a comparison?" Xiao Sizi looked out the window, where the sunlight filtering through the locust tree leaves was still dappled.
“I’ve finally realized this recently,” she said, gently stroking the foam on her tea, “that true character isn’t something you wear around your waist to make people look up to you, but something you cultivate in your heart to warm people.” Just like her best friend never told her, that the tassel she gave up had actually bound together a lifelong friendship between the three of them.
The wind blew through the account book, and a faded blue tassel slipped out from between the pages—it was sent back by someone to Ming Xiaolang before he took up his post as governor last year. The note attached read: "Thank you, Sister Si, for your kindness back then. Now you can discuss matters calmly in the hall. I still remember the time we studied together in the Temple of Confucius."
Some integrity doesn't necessarily require sashes to be displayed. Just like how she no longer imitates Du Xiaobing's style when she improvises poetry, but lets those vivid metaphors flutter naturally like butterflies—the world needs the upright and righteous Du Xiaobing, and it also needs the unrestrained and imaginative Zhen Xiaosi.