Chapter 134 — The Autumn Hunt
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 2 of 4
In it he wrote that Ji Yong had been clever from childhood, reading ten lines at a glance, unmatched by anyone in Yixing, and known as a child prodigy from a tender age. The Ji family had placed great hopes in him, and so everyone high and low doted on him, and he had grown up to this day with fair winds all the way. If there was anything that set him apart from others, it was that he was especially mischievous. Other children at most climbed trees to raid birds' nests or waded into rivers to catch fish and shrimp; he, however, upon reading the Classic of Mountains and Seas, wanted to climb Mount Tiantai; after reading the Memorial on Dispatching the Troops, he wanted to build wooden oxen and flowing horses; and upon hearing the tale of Xu Fu leading five hundred boys and girls to Penglai in search of immortals, he set about refining elixirs at home—and nearly blew up the Ji household.
He was only nine years old then.
Old Master Ji could not bear to beat him, and scolding was no use. At his wit's end, he had no choice but to confine him to the house and make a three-part pact with Ji Yong: if only he could pass the imperial examination, afterward he might do whatever he pleased. But until he passed, he was to read, write, and pursue his studies in proper order at home, and go nowhere at all.
He agreed readily. It took him only three years to pass the provincial examination. He was still proud and haughty, but far more steady than before. Only then did Old Master Ji feel at ease letting him travel about with guards and servants—all so that he might see the joys and sorrows, the partings and reunions, of the mortal world, and come to have a compassionate heart...
Do whatever he pleased!
Dou Chiyou's forehead broke out in sweat.
Did Old Master Ji have any idea what kind of promise he had made to Ji Yong?
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The news that Song Yan had beaten Dong Qi's pair of geese with a motley five spread swiftly through the capital.
When Lady Jiang entered Yizhi Hall, Song Yan was practicing archery.
His body was like a green pine, his hands like bedrock; drawing the arrow, bending the bow, loosing the shot—his movements were vigorous and forceful, all in one breath.
Lady Jiang could not help giving a little "oh," her gaze falling on the bow and arrows in her son's hands.
The body of the bow was black, archaic in style, and of a material impossible to identify; thick ox sinew was wound about its limbs, while the string was fine as a hair, glinting with a muted luster—one look was enough to tell that this bow was no ordinary thing.
"Why have you brought out the Sun-Shooter your eldest uncle gave you?" Her gaze swept over the bow, as though she were seeing the face of her departed brother, and her voice softened a little. "Didn't you always say this bow was too conspicuous?"
Song Yan drew a carved-feather arrow from the gold-traced quiver and, with a resonant twang, struck the bull's-eye. Only then did he slowly lower the bow and say softly, "This bow sits well in the hand... I must be sure of hitting whatever I aim at. With this bow I'm more certain!"
What did he mean, be sure of hitting whatever he aimed at?
Lady Jiang was slightly taken aback and was about to ask for details when she saw that Song Yan had already handed the bow to Chen Tao, who stood attending nearby, and taken the handkerchief Chen He offered him. Wiping his sweat, he said, "What brings you here? Are you feeling any better today?" Then he added, "Where's Tian'en? Didn't he say he was keeping you company? Why is there no sign of him?"
"I'm not so delicate as all that," said Lady Jiang. "I was merely overtired for a time. Now that I've taken Physician Yang's medicine and rested for these few days, I've long since recovered."
Song Yan helped Lady Jiang to a seat at the stone table beneath the old locust tree.