In the deep hours before dawn, a torrential rain poured down upon a forest in Jiangnan. Trees were lashed and battered by wind and rain, swaying violently, while the grass on the ground was submerged in rising pools of water. Amid this chaotic and turbulent scene stood a dilapidated temple, faint light glowing from within, casting a strange sense of warmth and comfort across the wilderness.

  Inside the ruined temple, a teenage boy lay fast asleep, wrapped in a hand-dyed blue cotton blanket. He wore a gray silk Fang jin, a gray silk Panling lanshan, and black cotton shoes. Beside him was a straw-woven travel pack. Suddenly, a peal of thunder jolted him awake. It was clear from the look on his face that he had not been sleeping well.

  He glanced at the flickering candle flame, then lowered his eyes to the thread-bound Sishu zhangju jizhu in his arms, wondering if reading a bit more of this sleep-inducing text might help him doze off again. His gaze drifted toward the window, where the forest beyond swayed beneath the downpour. Just then, a figure appeared in the rain—rushing straight toward the temple.

  The boy was startled that anyone would be moving about at such an hour, and fear quickly crept in. He thought of the ghosts and monsters he had read about in supernatural tales. Gripped by unease, his body froze as he clutched the cotton blanket tighter around himself, staring as the silhouette drew nearer—larger with every step. Through the sheets of rain emerged a soaked figure, who charged through the temple’s main entrance, then slowed and stumbled to the ground.

  The boy in the gray Panling lanshan tightened his hold on the blanket, staring at the newcomer. The figure wore a Liuheyitong mao, a cap with two pairs of ear flaps, and was dressed in tattered, soaked brown cotton clothing and straw sandals. He lay face-down on the ground, panting heavily.

  He looked like a teenager too, though younger—perhaps just a boy, a few years younger than the one in the gray Panling lanshan.

  “Excuse me…” the boy in the gray Panling lanshan began to speak, but was cut off when the drenched boy, still gasping for breath, raised a hand to signal him to wait.

  After a while, the boy in the gray robe resumed the words he had been about to say. “Do you need help? Who are you? And why are you wandering through the forest in the pouring rain at night?”

  “Then why are you staying alone in this ruined temple in the middle of the night?” the soaked boy shot back. “I’m traveling alone. I came here to take shelter from the rain.”

  “So am I,” the boy in the gray Panling lanshan replied.

  The conversation fell into silence.

  After a moment, the boy in gray took off the cotton blanket wrapped around himself and handed it to the drenched boy.

  “You should take off those wet clothes,” he said. “Wrap yourself with this blanket instead.”

  The boy did as he was told, removing his soaked garments and wrapping himself in the blanket. He kept his Liuheyitong mao on. “Thanks,” he said briefly.

  The boy in gray smiled and said, “My name is CHIANG, SHUN-JEN, courtesy name (zì) YUNG-JEN”—a name taken in addition to one’s given name, as was customary in traditional Chinese society. “I’m from the Minnan region. May I ask your name?”

  The boy replied, “LI, SHIH-LIANG.”

  In the darkness after the storm, the orange-red sun gradually began to rise over the horizon. The two boys, who had fallen asleep side by side, were slowly illuminated by the morning light. LI, SHIH-LIANG stirred from his dreams and went to check the clothes that had been hung up to dry. Finding them still damp, he returned to where he had been sleeping—only to catch the scent of something fragrant in the air…

  Soon after, CHIANG, SHUN-JEN awoke in the ruined temple, now lit by the rays of sunrise. The first thing he saw was LI, SHIH-LIANG staring at him with a desperate, hungry look in his eyes. His hands were trembling slightly, and a bit of drool hung at the corner of his mouth.

  “Master YUNG-JEN,” LI, SHIH-LIANG said, “that jerky in your hand… could I have a little bit of it?”

  “How did you know I had jerky?” CHIANG asked, puzzled.

  “I smelled it,” LI said, his eyes lighting up. “I know it’s rude to ask, but I’m willing to do anything in return.”

  Looking into LI’s eyes, CHIANG was suddenly reminded of the dogs back at home—how they would stare at him just like that whenever he was eating. He hesitated. A wave of sympathy rose within him. The boy really did look starving.

  Maybe he really had been wandering around with nowhere to go, CHIANG thought. He recalled how, during his travels, he had occasionally come across ragged vagrants. LI might be one of them. It was heartbreaking to realize that the world had become so cruel that a boy—clearly younger than himself—had been forced into such a desperate state.

  “All right,” CHIANG said. “Give me a moment. I’ll prepare something to eat.”

  “No problem,” LI replied eagerly.

  CHIANG opened a food box from his travel bag. Inside was a solid block of congealed porridge. He pulled out a knife and cut the block into four pieces—handing one to LI, keeping one for himself, and putting the rest back into the box.

  “It’s said that back in the Song dynasty, the scholar Fan Zhongyan would let his porridge harden and cut it into blocks while studying in poverty. Later generations called it getting by on meager meals,” CHIANG explained. “I was inspired by that—thought it’d make a good travel food…” He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the way LI was holding the congealed porridge, gazing at it as if it were the finest delicacy in the world.

  Looks like he hasn’t eaten in a long time, CHIANG thought. He quickly reached into another pouch, pulled out some jerky, and handed a few strips to LI. The boy immediately devoured both the jerky and the block of porridge. CHIANG was slightly startled by how rough and ravenous he was.

  During this simple meal, CHIANG began asking LI some questions.

  “LI, SHIH-LIANG, how old are you?” CHIANG asked.

  “Fourteen,” LI replied.

  “Then you’re four years younger than me,” CHIANG said. “Where are you from?”

  “Quanliang Village,” LI answered.

  “And where is that?” CHIANG asked.

  “Mount Paektu. It's even farther north than the capital,” said LI.

  “Then how did you end up here? This is Jiangnan—we’re far from the capital,” CHIANG asked again, confused.

  “It’s a long story…” LI said. He continued, “I used to live there, until one day, a merchant guild from Luoyang—one that traded with our village—came and said they were recruiting people to work for them. I’d never left the village before, and I was curious about the outside world, so I thought I’d apply… get some experience… but then…”

  LI hesitated, struggling to find the words. CHIANG waited patiently. Then LI went on, “They lied to me. They sold me into slavery to someone called Master Zhang… a rich merchant. I was forced into hard labor. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ran away. Now I’m trying to make my way back home.”

  This boy had clearly been through a lot, CHIANG thought. The idea that someone would deceive and enslave a boy not even of ‘learning age’—fifteen, by old standards—filled him with disgust...

  Back in his hometown, even the servants in CHIANG’s household often bullied the tenant farmers, and his parents never cared. It seemed that no matter where you went, taking advantage of the weak was simply the way of the world.

  A chill settled in CHIANG’s heart as he thought about the state of the world and all that LI had endured. To think someone this young had been through so much—and now had to travel north alone. Could he really just part ways with him now? What would happen to him afterward? What dangers would he face? The boy had already been so hungry he begged for food—how could he possibly have the money or supplies to make it through the journey?

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  The questions swirled in his head, and CHIANG grew more and more uneasy. He had to reach the capital for the palace exam—time was of the essence. But if he abandoned this boy now… wouldn’t that make him no better than the servants back home? He found himself caught in a tug-of-war between duty and conscience.

  As CHIANG pondered all of this, he finished his porridge and jerky. Meanwhile, LI put on his now-dry clothes and said, “As thanks for feeding me, I’ll help you carry your luggage to the next town.”

  “All right,” CHIANG replied.

  And so, the two of them stepped out of the ruined temple, walking along a forest path still wet from the rain. Mud and puddles soaked through their shoes as birds called out from all directions. Despite the wetness, there was a tranquil, vibrant atmosphere to the forest around them.

  As they strolled through the lively, dew-laden forest, LI, SHIH-LIANG couldn’t help but ask, “Master YUNG-JEN, where are you headed?”

  “No need to call me ‘Master,’” CHIANG replied. “I’m on my way to the capital for the exams.”

  “So you’re a scholar?” LI asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious from my clothes?” CHIANG said.

  “I’ve seen plenty of people dressed like that who weren’t scholars,” LI replied.

  “These days, people wear whatever they please and pay no mind to overstepping propriety,” CHIANG sighed.

  LI tilted his head and asked curiously, “Why do scholars all take the exams?”

  “To become officials,” CHIANG said.

  Although he found LI’s question rather na?ve—almost endearingly so—he reminded himself that LI had grown up in a mountain village and probably didn’t know much about the world beyond it. That must be why he asked such a basic question, CHIANG thought.

  “What do officials do?” LI asked.

  “Officials hold power, govern the people, and allow the common folk to live in peace,” CHIANG replied. “They’re also exempt from taxes and labor duties. That’s why the elders in my village all support my pursuit of scholarly success.”

  “Then are you becoming an official to help the people live in peace, or to avoid taxes and forced labor?” LI asked again.

  “Mm… both,” CHIANG answered. “A true Confucian scholar should strive to create a world where all the old and young can live in contentment. As for the exemption, if I earn official rank, I can use that status to preserve my family’s land and avoid burdensome taxes.”

  CHIANG began to reflect on the words he had just spoken. Why am I really doing this? he thought. Am I truly studying and taking the exams with the heart of one who “worries before the people worry”? Or am I just trying to secure my family’s status? After reading all these classics, can someone truly become a person who helps others just by gaining official rank? If that’s the case… then why did my father, who is a county magistrate in Wan, allow our servants to bully the tenant farmers without ever stepping in?

  “Ah!” CHIANG suddenly cried out as his foot slipped—he had nearly fallen off a cliff. Thankfully, LI, SHIH-LIANG grabbed him in time and pulled him back, saving him from plunging into the stream below.

  CHIANG had been so deep in thought that he failed to notice the broken bridge ahead. The rope bridge connecting the two sides of the cliff had already snapped. Though the stream below was shallow, it was still impossible to cross directly.

  “It must’ve been the storm last night,” LI said.

  CHIANG sighed. “There’s no helping it. We’ll have to take a detour.”

  “There’s no need,” LI said. As soon as he finished speaking, he stepped back a few paces, broke into a run, and leapt across the gap.

  CHIANG took a few steps forward and gasped, watching as LI landed perfectly on the other side of the broken bridge.

  “Wait there, CHIANG YUNG-JEN! I’ll carry you over!” LI shouted.

  He set down the travel pack, took a running start, and jumped back across the gap.

  Before CHIANG could react, LI grabbed him and hoisted him onto his back.

  “Wait, stop—this is insane! Aaaaahhh!” CHIANG screamed.

  In the middle of a broken bridge deep in the forest, a ragged boy in brown cotton clothing carried another boy—slightly taller and dressed in gray silk Panling lanshan—on his back. With a wild yell, he jumped across the broken bridge and landed perfectly on the other side.

  CHIANG was frozen in shock.

  “What are you doing?! We almost fell!” he shouted.

  “But we didn’t,” LI replied calmly. “In my village, this kind of physical ability is perfectly normal.”

  “What kind of standard are you even using?!” CHIANG cried.

  “Calm down,” LI said. “At least we don’t need to take a detour.”

  After some time, once CHIANG had calmed down a little, he asked, “How were you able to jump over that stream? Normal people can’t do that!”

  “Uh… like I said, it’s normal where I’m from,” LI replied awkwardly.

  CHIANG wasn’t convinced, but since they were in a hurry, he decided not to press the issue. After walking a while longer, they began to see farmland and village houses. Then came a town—and crowds of people.

  “Looks like we’ve made it to the town,” LI said, handing the travel pack back to CHIANG.

  “Keep carrying it,” CHIANG said.

  “But we’re already in town.”

  “You said your home is beyond the capital, right? Then here’s the deal: keep carrying my luggage until we reach the capital. In return, I’ll cover your food and lodging along the way,” CHIANG said. “Honestly, having someone carry my things is pretty convenient.”

  “Is that okay, CHIANG YUNG-JEN?” LI asked, looking into his eyes. There wasn’t the slightest trace of resistance in his expression.

  “Of course,” CHIANG replied. I can’t just let you go off alone like some vagrant, he thought.

  “Then it’s a deal,” LI said with a smile.

  The next evening, they arrived in Suzhou—a prosperous town thanks to its location near the Grand Canal. On the bustling streets filled with merchants and townspeople, the two boys walked side by side. One looked slightly older, wearing a gray silk Fang jin, a gray silk Panling lanshan, and black cotton shoes. The other, younger, wore a distinct Liuheyitong mao, ragged brown cotton clothes, and straw sandals.

  The older boy was named CHIANG, SHUN-JEN, courtesy name YUNG-JEN, a tribute student from the Minnan region. The younger was named LI, SHIH-LIANG, said to be from a village called Quanliang near Mount Paektu in the far northeast.

  As they walked, CHIANG said, “Let’s get something to eat first. Then I need to stop by a money exchange. I’m running low on silver.”

  They found a relatively inexpensive tavern and had their fill in a second-floor dining room. With full bellies, they were completely relaxed—so relaxed that they didn’t notice a few men sitting by the window watching them closely.

  After paying the bill and leaving the tavern, they headed toward the money exchange, unaware that the men from the window had begun following them. The busy nighttime crowds of the city streets provided the perfect cover for the pursuers, making it impossible for CHIANG and LI to realize they were being followed. But as they entered a narrower alley, LI’s expression grew tense. He looked back, scanning the figures behind them.

  “What’s wrong?” CHIANG asked.

  “Something feels off... I’ve been smelling the same group of people for a while now,” LI replied.

  “Smelling? You can smell other people’s scent? Or do you mean drunkards?” CHIANG asked.

  “Keep your voice down,” LI said quietly. “I think we’re being followed. Listen carefully…”

  LI whispered a few more words, then moved his hand in front of his chest, pointing to the left—signaling CHIANG to turn into the next alley.

  The two of them dashed left.

  Seeing that they had been discovered, the pursuers gave chase and turned into the alley as well. There were five of them in total. The first man in front was immediately struck on the head by LI, who had been hiding among the trash and debris near the alley wall.

  Following LI’s earlier instructions, CHIANG, carrying the travel pack, ran toward the riverside boulevard where the crowd was thickest.

  As soon as LI’s foot connected, the first man collapsed to the ground, bleeding from the forehead as if his skull had cracked.

  “You bastard!” the second man shouted, drawing a small knife and lunging at LI. LI caught his arm mid-swing, slammed him to the ground, and stomped on his head. A cracking sound followed, and the knife clattered to the ground.

  The third man pulled out a Zhuge crossbow and fired, but LI ducked low, grabbed the fallen knife, and hurled it at the shooter’s arm. The blade pierced the man’s forearm. Before the screaming man could recover, LI rushed forward and punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious.

  LI then turned and launched a kick at the fifth man. The target dodged by leaping backward, narrowly avoiding the blow.

  With most of the enemies down, LI bolted toward CHIANG’s direction at incredible speed.

  The fifth man gave chase, pulling from his pack a strange, disk-shaped object tied to a length of chain.

  By now, CHIANG had merged into the bustling crowd along the riverside Shantang Street—a historic street in Suzhou that still exists today. He kept glancing nervously behind him, and only relaxed slightly when he finally saw LI appear in the distance.

  CHIANG handed the travel pack to LI and asked, “Who were those people? Are they still after us?”

  “I think they’re men working for Master Zhang,” LI replied. “He has influence all across the country through merchant guilds. They must have recognized me while I was fleeing and are trying to capture me…”

  Before LI could finish, people around them suddenly began collapsing to the ground.

  CHIANG felt a wave of dizziness and fell, overwhelmed by sudden fatigue. LI quickly grabbed him, slung him over his back, and began to run. CHIANG, still semi-conscious, managed to glance behind him—and saw a figure with the face of a fox pursuing them.

  The fox-faced man held a chained, hat-shaped weapon in his hand and hurled it toward them. LI narrowly dodged the spinning blade.

  Seeing he had missed, the fox-faced figure pulled a cylindrical object from his belt and yanked a cord at its bottom. A small firework shot into the air and exploded in red light, illuminating the dark sky.

  “Damn it—he’s calling for backup!” LI muttered, racing forward with CHIANG on his back, stepping over unconscious townsfolk as he fled.

  The fox-faced man hurled the chained, hat-shaped weapon once more.

  This time, LI realized he wouldn’t be able to dodge in time. To protect CHIANG, he abruptly threw him off his back. CHIANG hit the ground hard.

  LI dropped to the ground just in time as the bladed edges of the weapon—shaped like sickles—slashed through the air. The attack missed LI but struck CHIANG’s travel pack, tearing it open and scattering its contents.

  Half-unconscious, CHIANG looked up and saw LI, now unburdened by the travel pack, sprint forward.

  With a flying kick, LI struck the fox-faced man square in the abdomen. Blood spurted from the man’s mouth.

  LI grabbed the chained weapon from him and dashed back to CHIANG’s side, scooping him up once again.

  “I’m sorry for tossing you like that, CHIANG YUNG-JEN,” he said.

  CHIANG, still dazed but clinging to consciousness through sheer willpower, nodded weakly to show he understood.

  As the sound of footsteps echoed from farther down the street, LI—carrying both CHIANG and the newly obtained weapon—hurried away. Meanwhile, CHIANG’s strength gave out at last, and he slowly slipped into sleep.