Joy of Life - V1C4
Chapter 4
Studies and Ghost Stories
In truth, Fan Xian did not realize that he was practicing martial arts. Had he chosen to become a soldier, he would have trained meticulously, practicing with utmost caution and seeking the guidance of a teacher or the watchful eye of a trustworthy friend.
The most dangerous aspect of this practice was its fundamentals. When accumulating one’s Qi in the lower Dantian within the pelvic area, a significant discrepancy could develop between the speed of the practitioner’s physical responses and the reactions of their spirit. The most immediate consequence of this could be the immobilization of the practitioner’s bodily functions, potentially leaving them in a vegetative state.
In this situation, an inexperienced practitioner may mistakenly believe they lost control of their senses and might impulsively channel Zhenqi into their organs. If they were fortunate and exceptionally strong, they could redirect the body’s scattered Zhenqi into the meridians, but this effort would ultimately be in vain. If such a scenario were to occur for a novice, they would likely panic, increasing the risk of actual demonic possession.
Despite being a novice, Fan Xian managed to maintain control of his senses and found it easier to comprehend this mysterious feeling than some of the most seasoned practitioners. This could be attributed partly to his past life experiences and luck.
When he began practicing manipulating this obscure Zhenqi force, he was in the body of an infant. The innate energy he had drawn from his mother had not yet fully returned to the world; it remained within him. As a result, his training progressed effortlessly, and a significant portion of this innate Zhenqi stayed within his meridians.
Consequently, the obstacles that typically hindered the average practitioner posed no challenge for Fan Xian. In his previous life, he had been confined to his sickbed for many years due to illness, making him accustomed to a disconnect between his brain and his body. Thus, when he first faced this new situation, he did not panic; instead, he felt warmth from the memories of his past.
During his initial attempt at practice, as he became vaguely aware of his Qi, he found himself paralyzed. Yet he remained unafraid. This lack of fear kept his mind clear and untroubled, enabling him to overcome this formidable challenge easily.
From that moment on, his practice became increasingly simpler. He only needed to contemplate the secrets of the art to enter a meditative state. This ability allowed Fan Xian to sleep soundly during his daily naps; even the loudest thunder could not wake him.
For most practitioners, achieving such a meditative state was difficult, as it heavily relied on chance and coincidence. To be able to meditate effortlessly during a daily nap was an indescribable luxury. Truly, heaven smiled upon him.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
As soon as he awoke, he pressed his cute little face against a towel held by the servant girl who washed him.
In the afternoon, he began studying in the library under a tutor the Count had specially invited from the Eastern Sea. This tutor was not particularly old, no more than thirty, yet he carried the decrepit smell of someone much older.
Over the past decade, literary culture significantly improved across the Qing Empire. Following the publication of scholar Hu Shih’s *Discussion on Literary Reformation*, battle lines emerged between “Old Language” and “New Language.” The so-called “Old Language” was what Fan Xian remembered as classical Chinese, while the “New Language” resembled written vernacular Chinese, albeit with a more refined touch.
Fan Xian’s tutor was an ardent classicist, so the boy spent every day poring over one classic text after another. Although these texts differed from the *Four Books and Five Classics*—the classical literary canon of Fan Xian’s previous world—they were strikingly similar in moral content. They also presented the same schisms among Confucianism, Mohism, Legalism, and Daoism.
Fan Xian began to wonder where he truly belonged during his first lesson. It was a stuffy summer day, and humidity hung in the air of the library. The tutor opened the south-facing window, allowing the sound of cicadas to fill the room with their cries for the cool breeze. Turning around, he saw his young pupil slumping over the table, lost in thought. He nearly summoned words of rebuke but lost his resolve when he saw the boy’s fair, gentle face.
In truth, he admired the boy. Though only four years old, Fan Xian spoke eloquently and demonstrated considerable knowledge of virtuous teachings from their forebears. Such maturity was quite impressive for a child of his age.
The tutor also felt conflicted. Count Sinan was very severe, and the demands in his recent letter were quite extensive, forcing him to comply. Now, he was tasked with teaching scriptures to a very young child. Any ordinary child at that age would only be learning a few characters.
At the end of the lesson, Fan Xian politely saluted his teacher and respectfully waited for him to leave the library. Once the tutor departed, he shed his outer layer of clothing, already drenched with sweat, and ran out of the library, followed closely by an anxious servant girl, who called out, “Be careful!”
He paused in the courtyard, a silly, innocent smile spreading. Exuding a sense of childish confidence, he swaggered into the room. Seeing the Old Mistress sitting in the center, he sweetly exclaimed, “Nǎi Nǎi !”
The old woman smiled kindly, her deep wrinkles betraying her age. Occasionally, her eyes would flash with a glint that hinted she was no ordinary Old Mistress. It was said that Count Sinan owed much of his success to her in the capital.
“And what did you learn today?” she asked.
Fan Xian stood politely before her chair, recounting everything he had learned from his tutor that day. After saluting her, he headed to the courtyard to eat with his younger sister.
The relationship between the Old Mistress and her grandson was complex, perhaps because Fan Xian was an illegitimate child. Although the old woman never mistreated him, she had high expectations, leading to a slight distance between them.
Fan Xian remembered her cradling him as he cried like a newborn. She could never have imagined that he, at such a young age, could understand her words, let alone remember them so deeply.
“My child, it’s acceptable to blame your father for this. Poor little one. Just born, and your mother’s no longer with us.”
His birth. This was perhaps the biggest question on Fan Xian’s mind. The moment he arrived in this world, he witnessed a murder. He knew his father was Count Sinan, whose face he had never seen, but who was his mother? That year, Count Sinan followed the Emperor’s army on his expedition to the West, and the assassins came to kill Fan Xian’s mother.
His body housed a soul from another world, so he could never feel filial emotion toward the Count. But, from time to time, he thought of that long-dead woman whom he called mother.
“What are you thinking about?”
As the two servant girls served food, the young girl sitting next to Fan Xian asked, pouting. Her skin was slightly ashy and skinny, so she looked pathetic beside the fair-skinned and healthy Fan Xian.
Fan Xian stretched out his hand and stroked her feathery hair, chuckling. “I was wondering what you usually eat in the capital.”
Two years younger than Fan Xian, this little girl was RuoRuo, Count Sinan’s daughter and Fan Xian’s half-sister.
She was such a sickly child, and the Old Mistress felt sorry for her granddaughter, so the girl had been brought to Danzhou the previous year to recuperate. She had been coalescing for nearly a year, but it had no noticeable effect; her hair remained wispy and thin. There was no food shortage in a noble family like the Counts; therefore, it couldn’t have been due to malnutrition. It was likely a natural weakness.
Fan Xian and the young girl got along very well. Although he saw himself as an uncle to her, he was there to provide company. He often took her out to play and told her stories, which, in the eyes of onlookers, was evidence of their deep sibling bond.
It was Fan Xian’s status as a bastard that caused some awkwardness. It was inappropriate to compare him to the Count’s legitimate daughter, so the servant girls did not report their relationship to the Count in the capital.
She answered her big brother’s question earnestly, twiddling her fingers and telling him everything she ate in the capital. But as she began to list them, it seemed that all she could think of were candied hawthorn and little dough figurines.
By the time they had finished eating, it was late. The sun had sunk halfway beneath the horizon, and dense crepuscule enveloped the courtyard.
“RuoRuo, you’re such a weakling.”
“Stop being mean.”
“Ok, what story do you want to hear today?”
“Snow White!”
Fan Xian smiled. He was lucky nobody else was around because it would be most unsettling to happen upon this four-year-old boy smiling that wicked smile that only adults could.
“How about I tell you a ghost story?”
“No!” Horrified, RuoRuo shook her head vehemently, her ashen cheeks damp with tears. She’d already suffered enough ghost stories over the past year.
Tormenting young girls was one of Fan Xian’s evils. He was an expert at frightening the servant girls, often telling them ghost stories that would incite incessant shrieking and leave them huddled in bed with him, trembling.
Though he couldn’t touch them intimately, lest he arouse suspicion, he still enjoyed their soft, perfumed embraces.
He reassured himself that he was still a child and needed physical contact. There was nothing shameful about it; it was a natural desire.
And whenever the servant girls got curious, the young master was still so little; how did he know so many scary stories? Fan Xian placed the blame squarely on his tutor.
So, the servant girls came to look on the tutor with mistrust: Count Sinan spent so much money bringing him here to teach the young master, and he spends all his time telling ghost stories, scaring the life out of the poor little lad and scaring us girls half to death—what an awful man!
After wrapping up the last ghost story, two of the servant girls were frightened senseless. They washed the young master and tucked him into bed.
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Dantian is a concept in traditional Chinese medicine loosely translated as "elixir field", "sea of qi", or simply "energy center". Dantian are the "qi focus flow centers", important focal points for meditative and exercise techniques such as qigong, martial arts such as tai chi, and in traditional Chinese medicine.
Nǎi Nǎi - informal: grandma (paternal grandmother); respectful: mistress of the house."
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