# 281. Light of the Buddha
The three great scholars tacitly refrained from taking the paper and instead exchanged knowing glances.
Seeing this, Dean Zhao Shou reached out, took the folded rice paper, and slowly unfolded it. He then fell into a long silence.
Sensing something unusual, Zhang Shen cautiously asked, "Dean?"
But Zhao Shou ignored him, mumbling softly to himself, caught in some emotion he couldn't immediately shake off.
After a while, Zhao Shou stroked his beard and smiled. “What a fine poem! I will personally have this inscribed in the Hall of the Lesser Sage, making it a part of Cloud Deer Academy's legacy. In the future, when descendants look back on this history, this poem alone will suffice.
"Tonight, the three of you shall come to my residence. We'll drink and celebrate until dawn."
The three scholars found it hard to believe. For Zhao Shou, the leading figure of Confucianism in this era, to be so moved by a single poem was almost unheard of. Even when praised with masterpieces like "Drunk, he knows not if the sky floats in the water;
His dream laden boat sailing atop the Milky way", Zhao Shou had merely smiled in approval.
"See for yourselves!" Zhao Shou handed over the paper.
Zhang Shen took it and read it together with the other two great scholars. Their expressions froze, and they, like Zhao Shou earlier, were overwhelmed by emotions they couldn't immediately shake off.
“‘Oh, the road is hard! The road is hard! Crossroads abound; which to choose? When the winds are high and the waves are tall, I’ll hoist my sails over the ocean blue.’” Li Mubai suddenly broke into tears, lamenting, "This poem speaks of our Cloud Deer Academy."
Zhang Shen and Chen Tai clenched their fists in agreement. They now understood why Zhao Shou had lost his composure. Li Mubai was right—this poem was written for the Cloud Deer Academy.
Looking back on the past two centuries since the Imperial Academy was founded, Cloud Deer Academy had entered its darkest period. Its students burned the midnight oil, striving for greatness, but their efforts were met only with suppression. Their burning passion and vast talents were left with nowhere to be displayed.
*Yet I spurn my drink and toss my chopsticks, food left untouched, Drawing my sword, with empty heart and unclear thoughts.*
But those final two lines were truly a stroke of genius, filling the great scholars with a renewed sense of grandeur and a surge of excitement.
The greatest power of poetry is its ability to evoke shared feelings, and it had struck right at the hearts of Zhao Shou and the three scholars.
"Dean..."
Zhang Shen coughed, breaking free from the intense emotions. He said softly, "Xu Cijiu is my student. I worked painstakingly to teach him."
"You have worked hard, Jinyan," Zhao Shou said with gratitude.
"Training talented individuals for the Academy is my duty; there is no hardship in that," Zhang Shen said righteously. "But I do have a small request that I hope you will consider."
Chen Tai and Li Mubai immediately grew cautious.
Zhao Shou smiled warmly. "What is your request?"
"When you personally inscribe this poem, please make sure to add a few small words after Xu Cijiu's name: 'Student of Zhang Shen, style name Jinyan, from Jingzhou.'"
Before Zhao Shou could respond, Chen Tai and Li Mubai objected, "I oppose this!"
Zhang Shen was furious. "He is my student! What does this have to do with you? Who are you to object?"
"Nonsense!" The two scholars glared at him, not holding back as they exposed the truth. "You know your student’s capabilities as well as anyone! How dare you pretend not to know who really wrote this poem?"
Zhang Shen knew all too well. Xu Cijiu was his student, and as his teacher, he was well aware of his abilities. As for how Xu Cijiu managed to guess the exam topic, Zhang Shen assumed that Xu Qi'an had sought Wei Yuan's help.
"Hmm?" Zhao Shou raised a brow in suspicion, cutting off the hearing of the messenger student nearby. "What were you just saying? Xu Cijiu didn't write this poem?"
Chen Tai snorted. "Xu Cijiu excels in policy discussions, but his poetry is mediocre. How could he produce such a soul-stirring masterpiece?"
Li Mubai chimed in, "It was undoubtedly written by my student, Xu Qi'an."
"When did Xu Qi'an become your student?" Zhang Shen scoffed. "If anything, he’s my student. So no matter what, it's still my name that belongs on the poem."
The three great scholars began to argue noisily.
Zhao Shou listened for a moment, then slowly understood. This poem had not been written by Xu Cijiu, but rather by his renowned cousin, who had been lauded as the Master of Poetry in the literary world.
In that case, Xu Cijiu had cheated as well.
"By the way, what is our huiyuan's specialty?" Zhao Shou asked.
In Confucianism, character was paramount, especially for the higher-ranking scholars. Every great scholar upheld a strong moral compass. But that didn’t mean they were all sages—unless they had explicitly set "sageness" as their defining mission in life. Otherwise, small transgressions could be overlooked.
But cheating was not a minor offense.
"His specialty is governance and military strategy," Zhang Shen said, as he himself was a great scholar known for his expertise in military matters.
Governance was a fundamental subject every Confucian scholar had to study, but beyond that, they could choose one or two areas to specialize in. Some scholars focused on the _Book of Rites_, while others delved into the _Doctrine of the Mean_. Xu Cijiu's area of expertise was military strategy.
Upon hearing this, Zhao Shou nodded in relief. Specializing in military strategy meant there wouldn't be any issues with his future advancement.
"You needn't argue over a single poem. I believe that Xu Qi'an used his cousin's hand to offer this poem to the Academy. That is the greatest gift we could receive," Zhao Shou said.
"Our Dean speaks the truth," the three great scholars said in unison.
They also silently added in their minds: *That sneaky bastard Yang Gong!*
…
The next day, the Xu Residence hosted a grand banquet, inviting friends and family. As per Xu Xinnian's arrangements, the guests were divided into three groups: the front yard, the back inner yard, and the central courtyard.
In the central courtyard sat his classmates and friends, while the inner courtyard, which was off-limits to outsiders, was reserved for family members. The front yard was for Uncle Xu and Xu Qi'an's colleagues.
The three groups of guests were perfectly separated, each enjoying their own drinking and banter. The scholars ignored the rough martial artists, and the martial artists paid no attention to the scholars' pretentious airs.
"Erlang truly has the mind of a scholar, arranging everything so neatly," Xu Qi'an remarked while escorting his younger brother around to toast the guests.
"Why didn't our teacher come?" he added.
Xu Erlang, his face slightly flushed from a few drinks, sighed as he exhaled the scent of alcohol. "The servant who delivered the invitation this morning brought back word that Teacher got into a fight with two other great scholars and was injured."
"Another fight?" Xu Qi'an thought to himself, wondering if all Cloud Deer Academy scholars had such bad tempers.
The two brothers then made their way to the inner courtyard, where their family members were seated. Auntie and Second Uncle remained at the table, keeping company with the Xu clan. A few children, having eaten their fill, played in the courtyard, envious of the Xu Family's large estate.
Xu Lingyin, too shy to join her playmates, had been eating non-stop and would rather die than move from her seat.
The Xu clan members were overjoyed. Not long ago, Xu Dalang had been ennobled, and now, Xu Erlang had just passed the metropolitan examination as the huiyuan. These were clear signs that the Xu family was on the rise.
While the younger generation was excited, many of them also thought about how they might benefit from this great pillar, hoping that one day they might achieve success and fame themselves.
The joy of the elders was more straightforward. Some wept with happiness, proclaiming that their ancestors must have blessed them and that the Xu clan was destined to become a great family.
"Lyu Er’dan," one of the clan elders stood up, patting Xu Pingzhi on the back of his hand, speaking with gratitude. "With Dalang and Erlang both turning out so well, you deserve much of the credit. One scholar and one warrior, both trained by you. You're even better than the Confucian teachers! I have a pair of grandsons at home. Er'dan, could you help guide them for a few years?"
Lyu Er'dan, “Second donkey egg” was Second Uncle Xu Pingzhi’s childhood name. Hence Xu Qi’an’s father would naturally be called: Lyu Yidan, “First donkey egg”.
Only the elderly members of the clan still used these childhood names.
"Hahaha, no problem! Uncle, feel free to send those two rascals over to me!" Xu Pingzhi, riding high on the praise, beamed with pride. He even began to feel that Xu Cijiu and Xu Ningyan's successes were thanks to his own efforts.
_What effort? You're no more than a reckless man, Xu Pingzhi..._ Xu Qi'an thought with a smile, mocking him internally.
_Father truly has no self-awareness. You're just a coarse warrior,_ Xu Xinnian silently grumbled in his heart.
Auntie, sitting silently, felt disgruntled that no one praised her for raising such talented children. But remembering her past conflicts with her nephews, she knew that if she tried to take credit, she'd surely be rebuked.
...
The western gate, the Capital.
The soldiers on guard suddenly heard faint chanting of Buddhist scriptures, as if coming from the heavens.
A soldier scratched his ear, only to realize the chanting still echoed in his mind. "Hey, do you hear something strange...?"
Before he could finish his question, he noticed his comrades around him doing the same, digging into their ears.
Just then, someone atop the city wall shouted, "Buddha's light! In the west, there’s Buddha’s light!"
The soldiers below instinctively tightened their grips on their spears, looking out warily into the distance. A few seconds later, they saw a golden light slowly rising from the west, glowing like the first rays of dawn… but purer, and more comforting.
Unknowingly, the soldiers began to loosen their grips on their spears, their eyes filled with devotion and serenity, as if their hearts had been cleansed by the light.
The centurion in charge bit his tongue hard, the pain shocking his brain back into temporary clarity, allowing him to resist the "devotion" welling up inside him.
He stumbled over to the dazed soldiers, pushing them aside as he grabbed the hammer and pounded it against the war drum, striking it again and again.
_Boom, boom, boom..._
The dull sound of the drum reverberated through the air, echoing in the hearts of the guards, echoing in the hearts of the people of the western city.
...
"They've arrived!"
Xu Qi'an, in the middle of raising a glass to toast a guest, suddenly heard the murmurs of the monk Shenshu in his mind.
*Arrived? What has arrived?*
Xu Qi'an froze for a moment before realizing—The emissaries from the Buddhist sect have arrived.
*Finally... the monks from the Western Regions have arrived in the capital.*
*They had come because of the Sangpo case, because of the monk Shenshu.*
Their intentions were far from friendly.
Xu Qi'an had been in this world for more than half a year, and this would be his first direct encounter with the high monks of the Western Buddhist sect.
_The Jianzheng has already shielded me from the heavens, so the monks shouldn't be able to detect the existence of Shenshu. But as the lead investigator of the Sangpo case, there's no way I can avoid interacting with these monks..._
_I’ve heard the Buddhist sects possess all sorts of strange abilities, like mind-reading techniques. If that’s true, could they hear my thoughts?_
Xu Qi'an felt as though he were facing a formidable foe.