Walking on the bluestone path in the palace, with a moon in the sky and two figures beneath the trees, Fan Xian's back was already soaked with sweat. Even in this summer night, he still felt a chill. He exhaled a breath of stale air, still somewhat frightened, patted his chest, and complained to Haitang beside him, "You guessed that 'The Story of the Stone' was… written by me, why didn't you tell me? You almost scared me to death with your Emperor earlier."

Haitang smiled and said, "Who told you to hide it from the world for so long?" Then, her eyes shifted and she said, "Why are you so afraid? If it wasn't about your identity as Cao Xueqin, what were you afraid His Majesty would say?"

Without even thinking, Fan Xian smiled gently and said, "What do you think?"

The corners of Haitang's lips turned up slightly. She said nothing. Fan Xian turned his head to look at her, seeing that her long eyelashes were stained with a layer of silver light, giving her a captivating beauty. And her most outstanding eyes, in the night, appeared particularly bright—silver moonlight truly had a magical quality, a kind of hazy immersion that seemed to transform any woman of ordinary beauty into an ethereal being.

Fan Xian, however, felt nothing special. He simply placed his hands behind his back and slowly dragged his feet forward, saying, "You tricked me this time. I'm not seeking revenge. You should know why."

"You want me to do something for you." Haitang smiled faintly. "Although I'm not sure what it is, I imagine it's related to the South, which is why you need an outsider like me to help."

"Not bad. You and I... are actually hypocritical people." A self-deprecatingly odd smile appeared on the corner of Fan Xian's lips. "So, when we talk, it seems we can be more direct. The thing I need you to do might happen, or it might not. In any case, I'll send someone to notify you then."

Haitang glanced at him and suddenly said, "I heard that you are extremely fond of the Prime Minister's illegitimate daughter, so you haven't even taken in the eldest maidservant that your grandmother sent from Danzhou."

"I don't like you probing into my family affairs." Fan Xian turned around and said seriously, "Let's end this topic here."

Haitang nodded with a smile, saying, "Actually, I'm just curious. What kind of person would be moved by every woman he sees, feel uncomfortable with every man he sees, think of unmarried women as pearls, married women as fish eyes, believe daughters are made of water, men are made of mud, and consider women precious and men inferior..."

After a long string of words, Haitang stared into Fan Xian's peaceful eyes and said softly, "I'm very curious, since the world regards men as superior, how could Master Fan have these views?"

Fan Xian smiled and didn't answer.

Haitang suddenly performed a *li* (a traditional Chinese greeting) and said solemnly, "Duo Duo thanks Master Fan on behalf of all the women in the world for writing biographies for the women's quarters and speaking out for them."

Fan Xian remained silent for a moment, then suddenly said, "I am… fundamentally different from most people in this world."

Leaving the palace gates, Haitang was somewhat surprised to find that the Grand Tutor was still waiting outside. Fan Xian's expression showed no change when he saw the Emperor's teacher, suggesting he had known all along.

Haitang bowed to the Grand Tutor, then turned back to Fan Xian and said, "I'll see you off the day after tomorrow."

Fan Xian understood the hidden meaning in her words, nodded, and got into the Grand Tutor's carriage.

Watching the three carriages gradually disappear into the night of Shangjing City, the bright gleam in Haitang's eyes suddenly flickered. She thought about the last words of the handsome young official from the Southern Qing Dynasty: "Fundamentally different?" In the eyes of the people of this world, Fan Xian was certainly different, but she wondered where exactly he considered himself to be different.

---

The carriage stopped outside a quiet courtyard. The imperial guards responsible for the security of the delegation realized that the Southern Qi's talented scholar, Fan Xian, was making one last visit in Northern Qi to see this master. Recalling the widely circulated story of the poetry duel at the night banquet, they couldn't help but feel uneasy, wondering what Fan Xian was up to. But in such a scholar-filled courtyard, they naturally quieted down.

The Tiger Guards from the lead carriage got out and vigilantly guarded several key points.

Fan Xian and the Northern Qi's Grand Tutor walked down from the carriage together. Their attitude wasn't particularly warm, but there didn't seem to be any hostility either, which slightly eased the guards' minds. Then, they saw the Grand Tutor, who was usually upright and just, speaking quietly to Fan Xian. After a few words, the two of them pushed the door open and went inside.

Fan Xian waved his hand, signaling the Tiger Guards not to follow.

Arriving outside a room in the courtyard, the Grand Tutor bowed deeply towards the room and said calmly to Fan Xian, "Master Fan, my teacher hasn't been feeling well recently. Please don't talk for too long."

Fan Xian politely returned the greeting to the great scholar, straightened his clothes, and gently pushed open the wooden door. At first glance, he could see an old man pinching a small brush, sketching something on paper.

This old man was a contemporary master of scriptures, with students all over the world. The Northern Qi Grand Tutor and the Southern Qing's Scholar Shu were both his proud disciples. Before Fan Xian showed his talent, no one could compare with him in terms of scholarship. Even after Fan Xian shamelessly "Guo Jingming-ed" a poem in court to achieve a chaotic victory, no one really believed that, besides poetry, Fan Xian had reached the same level as the other party in other fields.

Because this old man's surname was Zhuang, and his given name was Mo Han.

There were no servants or young attendants in the room, only the old man wearing a loose robe, constantly copying something, occasionally frowning and staring at the paper, flipping through the pages of books beside him, as if searching for some corroboration. Compared to the previous year in Qing, Zhuang Mo Han's spirit seemed much worse. His full head of silver hair was still neatly tied, but the age spots on his cheeks were heavier, revealing some ominous signs.

Fan Xian didn't want to disturb him, so he walked quietly behind him and cast his gaze onto the desk. He was shocked to find that the desk was filled with *Ban Xian Zhai Poetry Collection* (半闲斋诗话) published by Danbo Bookstore! And the blank pages of the poetry collection were already filled with annotations. Could it be that this contemporary literary master was actually writing notes for the poetry collection that he himself had "recited"?

Zhuang Mo Han's withered finger was pointing to the lower half of the sentence in the poetry collection: "Once you've seen the vast ocean, other waters are nothing; except for Wushan's clouds, no other cloud will do," constantly tapping the page, his lips slightly parted, and he said with some pain, "Incomprehensible, incomprehensible. It only has the beauty of antithesis in words, but this lower half is incomprehensible, truly incomprehensible. Tell me, what does this mean?"

...

...

After a moment of silence, Fan Xian's gentle voice rang out, "Wushan is a sacred mountain in the extreme south, shrouded in clouds and mist all year round. In the morning, it becomes morning clouds; in the evening, it brings rain. Whoever has seen this scene and these clouds will no longer bother to look at any other high skies and white mists in the world. These two characters support the next two sentences, purely discussing the loyalty of love."

"So that's how it is..." Zhuang Mo Han smiled bitterly and pointed to a thick book in the corner of the large desk: "Naturally, this old man can also guess this meaning, but I just can't find this allusion. I've searched through this *Comprehensive View of Mountains and Seas*, but I haven't found Wushan, the place of clouds. It turns out it's a sacred mountain in the extreme south. No wonder I didn't know about it."

Seeing that he didn't suspect that he was making it up, Fan Xian knew that this old man was truly a very gentle and tolerant person, so he smiled slightly and stepped forward to grind ink for him, watching him copy his explanation in fine and meticulous calligraphy on the blank space of the book page. Zhuang Mo Han's calligraphy was also famous throughout the world. His righteousness and purity were unparalleled, but Fan Xian felt a sense of melancholy today, as the old man's hand was shaking quite badly.

"Chen Wang once feasted at Ping Le, drinking wine at ten thousand coins a cup..." What is the allusion to this?" Zhuang Mo Han continued to ask without looking at him.

Fan Xian felt embarrassed, thinking that when he published the poetry collection, he had deliberately deleted Li Bai's "Bring in the Wine," how come the old comrade was asking him about it again?

Zhuang Mo Han sighed and said, "This old man has never forgotten anything he has seen or heard since I was young, so I inevitably have some self-respect. That day, you spewed out poems like a river, which inevitably made me feel a little saddened..." The old man laughed self-deprecatingly: "But thanks to this skill, I remembered so many of the poems you said. Later, when *Ban Xian Zhai Poetry Collection* was published, I found that there were many missing. I don't know what you were thinking, kid."

Hearing Zhuang Mo Han call himself a kid, Fan Xian inexplicably felt a different feeling in his heart. He coughed twice and explained, "Chen Wang was a prince with the surname Cao, who once held a grand banquet at Ping Le Guan..."

"A prince with the surname Cao?" Zhuang Mo Han raised his head, his cloudy eyes showing a trace of insecurity. "But… for thousands of years, no imperial family has had the surname Cao."

Fan Xian sighed in his heart and advised, "I was just talking nonsense, old man, there's no need to bother yourself anymore."

"That won't do!" Zhuang Mo Han was really a bit stubborn in some aspects, and he flipped through all the poems he had hand-copied, pointing to one of them and saying, "Xiaoxie (小谢) in the middle is also clear and bright, who is this Xiaoxie?"

Fan Xian's face turned green and white, and after a long time, he replied, "Xiaoxie is a frustrated writer of vernacular stories, his writings are crude and haven't been passed down, but he's a bit famous in the marketplace."

"Then…"

...

...

After an unknown amount of time, when Fan Xian felt that he was at the end of his rope and had no more interest, Zhuang Mo Han finally sighed, rubbed the corners of his eyes, and threw the brush into the inkstone, saying with a touch of sadness, "The oil is exhausted, and the lamp is dying. I can't compare with the days when I was studying."

After entering the room, the two of them didn't greet each other and threw themselves into this somewhat absurd task until now. Fan Xian put down his rolled-up sleeves, bowed very politely, and said, "I've met Grand Master Zhuang. I don't know why the old gentleman summoned me here."

The room fell silent. After a long time, Zhuang Mo Han suddenly trembled his old body and bowed deeply to Fan Xian with great difficulty.

Fan Xian was so shocked that he forgot to help him. What kind of person was this old master? He was the grand-teacher of the Northern Qi Emperor, how could he bow to himself?

Zhuang Mo Han had already straightened up, his face full of smiles radiating from within his wrinkles: "It's been a year since our meeting in Qing last year. Throughout my life, I have always placed great importance on morality. Last year, I framed Master Fan in Qing, and I have been uneasy ever since. Today, I invited Master Fan here specifically to apologize."

...

...

Fan Xian was silent. Of course, he knew that the reason why Zhuang Mo Han agreed to the Princess Royal's request and sacrificed his face of several decades to travel thousands of miles south to play the villain was entirely for the sake of releasing Xiao En, as agreed in the agreement. This was brotherly affection - something he lacked most at the moment.

"Xiao En is dead." Fan Xian looked at the old man in front of him, who suddenly appeared much thinner in the span of a year, and said these four words with a slight parting of his thin lips.

Zhuang Mo Han looked at him with a smile and said nothing.

Fan Xian also smiled, knowing that he was being somewhat redundant. After all, the other party was an old fox who had been mixing in this world for decades, with unfathomable roots in the Northern Qi. How could he not know about this major event?

"People always have to die." Zhuang Mo Han seemed to be saying this to himself and also to Fan Xian: "So, one must live well. My brother's way of living was really meaningless. He killed countless people, but in the end, he met such an end..."

Fan Xian didn't quite agree with this statement and said, "This world is inherently one where murderers and arsonists wear golden belts, while those who build bridges and pave roads are left without corpses."

Zhuang Mo Han shook his head: "Don't be this kind of person."

It wasn't that he couldn't be, but rather a very direct "don't be" in those two words. If any outsider were standing in this room at this moment, listening to Zhuang Mo Han and Fan Xian's conversation, and seeing their natural and unpretentious demeanor, they would feel something was amiss. The experiences and lives of these two people were too far apart, and the only time they had met was a conspiracy. Yet, it was these two people who could use the most direct words to express their attitude.

Perhaps, this was the power of books.

"Why not?" A hint of coldness appeared between Fan Xian's eyebrows.

"I am very confident." Zhuang Mo Han suddenly smiled, but the smile contained some deeply hidden sadness: "I am confident that I am living a much happier life than my brother."

Fan Xian stared into his eyes: "But you should know that if it weren't for Xiao En, perhaps you would never have been able to achieve your current status."

Zhuang Mo Han stared back into his eyes: "But you are not clear enough. When death gradually approaches, you will realize that power, status, and wealth are all just fleeting clouds."

Fan Xian replied very calmly and persistently: "No, when death comes, you might regret this life. You haven't experienced anything, you haven't enjoyed anything... You've simply had things in this life that ordinary people can never possess, so you have some feelings when your years are passing."

Zhuang Mo Han shook his head somewhat helplessly: "You are still young and haven't smelled the increasingly heavy scent of death around you day after day. How can you know what you will be thinking at that time."

"I know." Fan Xian repeated somewhat mechanically: "Believe me, I know that feeling."

Zhuang Mo Han seemed a little tired and didn't want to continue the topic. He changed the subject and said, "I didn't expect that the person who could write such rebellious words as 'The Story of the Stone' would still be the turbid object he described."

Fan Xian smiled bitterly: "I also didn't expect that rumors would fly faster than birds."

Zhuang Mo Han suddenly revealed a trace of concern in his eyes and said, "Master Fan, you need to be careful after you return to your country. 'The Story of the Stone'... has many taboo places."

Fan Xian was silent. He also knew this. It was just that he had a bit of youthful recklessness when he was young and couldn't bear to see those words lose the opportunity to appear in this world, so he wrote them casually. Now that he was in officialdom, he naturally understood deeply that if a person with ulterior motives wanted to find metaphors in them, it would be too easy. Moreover, this matter had a coincidence that even Fan Xian himself found shocking, so he couldn't help but be cautious. It was just a pity that the Northern Qi Emperor was also a fan of "The Story of the Stone," so this matter could no longer be hidden.

But Zhuang Mo Han shouldn't be so concerned about himself, logically or emotionally. This was what Fan Xian was confused about.

Zhuang Mo Han seemed to have guessed what he was thinking and said with a smile, "Today, I invited Master Fan here, in addition to apologizing and comforting myself, which is a selfish matter, I also wanted to thank you."

"Thank you?" Fan Xian frowned. He didn't think the other party knew that he had extended Xiao En's life by one day.

"I thank you on behalf of the scholars of the world." Zhuang Mo Han smiled and looked at him: "Master Fan revealed the corruption in the Qing's Spring Examinations as soon as he entered the Supervisory Council. This matter has affected the world, and His Majesty has also been moved to rectify the imperial examinations. Your action will benefit countless poor scholars. Your merit is everlasting. You may not value this old man, but logically and emotionally, I must say thank you to you on behalf of the scholars of the world."

Fan Xian laughed self-deprecatingly and curled his lips: "Exposing corruption? These are all things that scholars do, is there a need to thank me?"

Zhuang Mo Han didn't smile. His cloudy eyes were somewhat listless. He didn't put much effort into Xiao En's return to his country this time. The key was that he didn't want the entire court to fall into turmoil because of this matter. But he knew that this world was not entirely composed of scholars. There were politicians, schemers, and warriors. Their methods of handling things sometimes seemed more direct and more wild.

He glanced at Fan Xian and was originally prepared to say something, but thinking that those were, after all, the internal affairs of Northern Qi, there was no need to tell him.

...

...

After a long time, Fan Xian left the courtyard where Zhuang Mo Han lived, and he never came here again in his life.

---

The summer heat was intense. Although, in terms of months, the hottest days of the year should have already passed, Northern Qi was located in the northeast of the continent, and it felt particularly muggy near autumn. The light drizzle that was common in late spring and early summer had long disappeared, and only the glaring sun above forced people to take off their clothes as much as possible.

Outside the South Gate of Shangjing City, a touch of bright yellow disappeared into the city gate. The gray-blue ancient city wall immediately became the most conspicuous existence in the eyes of the crowd outside the city.

Fan Xian squinted his eyes and looked at that place, feeling quite uneasy. The Emperor had actually come to see off the Qing delegation in person. This was completely against etiquette. No matter how the Northern Qi officials tried to dissuade him, they still couldn't stop him. As a result, a large group of high-ranking officials and powerful ministers came along, and even the Grand Tutor came out of the city to see them off, giving the Southern Qing delegation plenty of face.

Earlier, the Emperor held Fan Xian's hand and chatted about household matters, constantly mentioning things like *The Story of the Stone*, attracting the attention of countless ministers. They had finally managed to get the somewhat eccentric Emperor back. Now, only the Northern Qi officials and various ceremonial guards were outside the city. Fan Xian glanced around and saw Wei Hua, but didn't see Marquis Changning or Shen Zhong.

He felt that his back was already soaked, not knowing if he was frightened by the Emperor or scorched by the sun.

The auspicious time hadn't arrived yet, so the delegation couldn't leave yet. He looked at the most luxurious carriage at the front of the team. The Northern Qi's Great Princess was inside the carriage at this moment. He had only caught a glimpse of her from afar, vaguely able to make out that she was a beautiful and noble woman, but he didn't know what her personality was like. However, Fan Xian wasn't too worried about the journey back home. After experiencing Haitang's matter, Fan Xian was even more confident in his ability to get along with women.

A gust of fresh wind swept through, immediately making Fan Xian feel relaxed. He tugged at the tightly buttoned collar, thinking that this damned weather actually had such a gentle breeze? Turning his head, sure enough, Wang Qinian was fanning him ingratiatingly, with a face full of reluctance and sadness.

Fan Xian couldn't help but burst out laughing, scolding with a smile, "It's only for a year, why are you putting on such a mournful face? Your wife and children at home will naturally be taken care of by me, don't worry."

The delegation was leaving, and Yan Bingyun would naturally follow them back to the country. As a result, the Qing Supervisory Council's intelligence network within the Northern Qi's territory immediately lost its leader. Therefore, the Supervisory Council's internal decision was to have Wang Qinian stay in Shangjing as a resident secretary of the Qing's Honglu Temple, temporarily leading the affairs of the North until an official secretly sent by the Council would take over after half a year.

Fan Xian, as the Director, had a special status in the Council. Procedures like this didn't need to go through the Kyoto yamen, so it was easily decided. It was just that Wang Qinian didn't expect that he wouldn't be returning with the delegation, so he couldn't help but feel uneasy and disappointed. Although he knew that this experience would be greatly beneficial for his future official reputation and promotion, he was still a bit uncomfortable.

"Director, I feel uncomfortable all over my body if I don't hear you speak for a day." Wang Qinian looked at Fan Xian reluctantly.

Fan Xian smiled and said, "Don't have conflicts with the Northern Qi side, protect yourself wisely. I'll welcome you back in Kyoto in a year." Actually, he was also used to having such a *penggen* (straight man in a comedy duo) by his side. The key was that Wang Qinian was his only confidant in the Council, but it was a pity that he had to stay in Northern Qi because he needed to prepare to deal with the Princess Royal's money channels.

...

...

While they were talking, a steed suddenly rode out of the city gate. Looking at the person on the horse, it wasn't any official. His attire resembled that of a manservant, which couldn't help but attract the attention of the officials, wondering how the Shangjing Nine Gates yamen would let a commoner come here when the security was already arranged.

Fan Xian was sharp-eyed and saw that the Grand Tutor, who was standing at the head of the farewell team, had a darkened complexion and a look of sadness in his eyes.

The horse rode directly to the front of the team. The manservant rolled off the horse and whispered something in the Grand Tutor's ear with a tearful voice, handing him a cloth scroll, and then pointed to the city gate behind him.

The Grand Tutor swayed, not knowing what he was stimulated by. Looking at the carriage slowly coming from the city gate, he shook his head sadly and looked back at Fan Xian, with a hint of surprise in his eyes.

He took a deep breath and walked towards Fan Xian. Fan Xian didn't know what had happened and quickly dismounted to greet him, taking the cloth scroll handed over by the Grand Tutor. He opened it nervously and saw that inside was a poetry collection with the slightly winding, old handwriting on the pages:

"Ban Xian Zhai Poetry Collection: Notes by Old Zhuang"

The Grand Tutor looked at the silent Fan Xian with mixed emotions and said, "This is what the teacher asked me to give to you." Saying this, his tone couldn't help but carry deep sorrow and heaviness.

"Master Zhuang... has passed away."