Chapter Forty-Two: Easy to Arrive, Difficult to Depart

On a square table, there was only a plate of roasted lamb leg, a plate of marinated beef, a few seasonal vegetables, and two jugs of clear wine.

“You’re not being very generous. The dishes you sent to the Self-Reflection Pavilion were lavish, but you’re just fobbing me off with this?” Though he addressed him formally as Master Du in front of others, in his heart, Du Fu was still that madman who’d drink himself under the table—the friend with whom he’d once shared wild, foolish times.

Du Fu took a small sip of wine, his expression blissful. “Don’t be ungrateful. These little dishes were prepared by my own hand. Especially this roasted lamb leg—crispy outside, tender inside, the layer of spices is my secret recipe, unmatched anywhere else.”

“Such a big lamb leg, and you couldn’t even afford a silver knife? Do you expect me to gnaw it with my hands?”

Du Fu slapped his sword, sliced off a chunk of lamb, and tossed it into his mouth. “Here, this is how you eat it.”

Yu Lang found it amusing; he took out his whetstone knife, cut off a piece of meat, and tasted it. Indeed, it had a unique flavor, and a smile gradually spread across his face.

They chatted idly, setting aside their worries for the moment, cup after cup, boasting of feats even they could hardly believe.

“Du Zimei, what’s your ambition? Winning the palace exam and becoming a high official? Or overthrowing Dean Chen and taking the head of Moon-Washing Academy for yourself?”

“Moon-Washing Academy? My heart isn’t set on it. Carrying the title of one of the Top Ten Traveling Masters is just a way to earn more silver. My real ambition is to build grand halls covering ten thousand acres, so that scholars everywhere have a shelter from wind and rain—a place to study in peace. Every extra tael I save brings me a step closer to that dream. It gives me comfort and stability.”

Yu Lang asked, “And what about ordinary folk?”

Du Fu held up a finger and waved it. “My second wish is for everyone to have the chance to read and learn.”

Yu Lang laughed. “Those two wishes of yours are far too grand, too difficult. Even saying you want to be emperor wouldn’t be harder.”

Du Fu, half in jest and half in earnest, cautioned Yu Lang, shaking his head. “We mustn’t speak such things—criticizing the sovereign is a grave crime.”

As they spoke, rain began to fall. The roof of Du Fu’s shabby house was covered only with dry grass, and soon, as the downpour outside intensified, light rain trickled inside as well.

This hut wasn’t in Yangzhou’s city proper, but on its outskirts, thrown together with a few logs and grass. Du Fu called it his thatched cottage. Yet ordinarily he didn’t live here; he stayed in Yu Lang’s residence in Ping’an Alley, spending Yu Lang’s money, freeloading on food, lodging, and all else.

“Should we move somewhere else?” Du Fu asked.

“No need, no need. Drinking in the rain is the truest delight.”

“Well said!” Du Fu was inspired. Using his sword, he stabbed and dug at the ground, and beneath the freshly turned earth, he revealed a dozen jars of wine.

Yu Lang burst out laughing. “These wines are surely worth more than your hut.”

He thought to himself: Decades from now, I’ll never let you end up destitute as in ‘Song of the Thatched Cottage Ruined by Autumn Wind.’ In that chaotic era, I’ll see you safe.

Du Fu was older than Yu Lang, and his cultivation was higher, but for some reason, when Du Fu occasionally showed signs of exhaustion, it always stirred a protective feeling in others.

Du Fu was already drunk, patting Yu Lang’s shoulder. “Ambitions aside, I, Du Zimei, am not born a sage. If ever I get the chance to pass the imperial exam, serve at court, and fulfill my aspirations, I’d gladly take it.”

“To place the ruler among the sages and purify the customs of the land,” Yu Lang murmured.

“A splendid couplet! Those lines truly speak to my heart. The more I savor them, the more familiar they feel.” Du Fu frowned, sensing something amiss, though he couldn’t pinpoint what.

Yu Lang recalled they were Du Fu’s own verses—just written a decade later. Hastily, he improvised, “You once recited those lines when drunk, not my poetry. I couldn’t write anything so dignified.”

Du Fu finally relaxed. “Good thing you remembered. When I finish that poem, I’ll write to you first and let you read it!”

“Deal. Cheers! No—wait, a letter? You mean you’re leaving Moon-Washing Academy soon, back to your wandering master days?” Yu Lang’s hand froze mid-toast.

Du Fu shook his head. “I won’t hold onto the traveling master title either. I’m heading to Chang’an. Moon-Washing Academy is just one stop for you in this life; someday, we’ll meet again in Chang’an.”

Yu Lang found it hard to accept. He thought: Du Fu appeared when Yu Chaoran just passed—at my lowest point—brought me into Moon-Washing Academy, helped me through countless hardships. Now, just as my fortunes improve, and I’ve opened my elixir field, he’s leaving.

Without you, my days of stealing lines will be so lonely, Yu Lang felt a pang of melancholy, and the wine made his eyes redden.

“You’re just like me—can’t let go of the smallest things. I, Du Zimei, am not your savior, just an ordinary friend. You’ll meet many more like-minded companions.”

“Honestly, my time in Yangzhou has been joyful. Bantering with you, visiting the pleasure boats to hear Xian’er sing, chatting idly.”

Mentioning Xian’er, Yu Lang was puzzled. “Why haven’t you helped Sister Xian’er buy her freedom? My three thousand taels should be enough.”

Du Fu answered calmly. “A fish leaps into the sea, a bird soars through the sky. Xian’er is used to a life of luxury on the boats; she’s saved enough to live comfortably when she’s old and her beauty fades. Why drag her into hardship with me? Everyone has their own pursuits. My life is destined to be toil, but I hope she enjoys hers.”

“Perhaps she’d rather live in poverty with you?”

Du Fu smiled. “She’s still young—maybe she does have such impulses now, but one day she’ll regret it. Married in poverty, misery abounds. She’s not the sort to endure hardship. Better to preserve the sweetest memories and let each other drift apart.”

“Well said. Here’s to forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes!”

They emptied four jars in succession. Du Fu’s tongue was growing thick, and he began to ramble nonsense.

Yu Lang saw his chance and suddenly asked, “Are you leaving so abruptly because of my unauthorized use of the Bone-Cleansing Pool?”

“Mm.” Du Fu muttered in agreement—truth slips out when drunk, and this was no exception.

“The Bone-Cleansing Pool affair could be big or small; it shouldn’t force you out of Moon-Washing Academy. Is someone pressing you to ask about my Foundation Stone?” Yu Lang thought for a while and continued.

Du Fu chuckled foolishly three times. “Trying to get me drunk and dig out my secrets… To guess this far, you are clever. This is a key reason I can leave at ease—you’re no longer the fragile little Yu Lang you once were. As long as I help you through this hurdle, I trust you’ll handle whatever comes next alone…”

“How will you cover for me? That Foundation Stone is a treasure of the Earth Origin rank—only practitioners of the top three realms could break it.”

Du Fu shook his head. “You look at me and don’t see a top three realm master, do you? I am precisely at the first stage of the top three realms—the Enlightenment stage. Don’t be so surprised. I might be the most useless Enlightened in history—halfway through enlightenment, I got scared, cut off my own path, and never advanced again.”

“Scared?”

“To break through the Enlightenment stage, you must confront your most unbearable memories—some call it conquering your inner demons. I couldn’t do it, chickened out, refused to go on.”

“Twenty-nine years old and Enlightened, Du Zimei! If you cultivated properly, you’d be the scariest prodigy at Moon-Washing Academy.”

Du Fu’s head grew heavier. “Don’t worry about the rest. If Dean Chen questions you, say I was overprotective and helped you open the Foundation Stone, sent you into the Bone-Cleansing Pool. Whether he believes it or not, with Du Zimei leaving, he’ll give me this courtesy—won’t press further.”

“Aren’t you curious who helped me? Maybe I’m a villain fallen to demonic ways, and my benefactor is a demon lord?”

“You don’t need to tell me. Without this trust, what’s the point of friendship?” With those words, Du Fu collapsed under the table, unconscious.

Yu Lang draped a raincoat over Du Fu, hoisted him onto his back, and trudged step by step toward Yangzhou city.

The torrential rain seemed endless, pouring without pause. Yu Lang looked up at the layered clouds above, feeling a rare sense of freedom.

To have such a friend—this life is not in vain.