Chapter Twenty-Five: Parting in Peace, Each Finding Joy Anew

Xu You hesitated for a moment, then looked closely at the document before him. He saw it read: “Two families joined in marriage, a solemn contract sealed in this hall, a good match to last forever, their names paired and honored. Behold, on this day, the peach blossoms are in full bloom, auspicious for home and family. May their descendants flourish for generations to come, prospering and thriving. With this vow to grow old together, inscribed on fine paper, let the pact of red leaves be entered into the register of mandarin ducks.”

This was the formal contract, containing the marriage proposal from the groom’s side and the response from the bride’s side, though it was all empty ceremonial words, following a set formula. There were additional pages attached, recording the true details of both parties: names, places of origin, and official posts for three generations back. The more detailed, the better; it was far more rigorous than any future population census.

Xu You closed the box and handed it back to Feng Tong, saying, “Indeed, the marriage contract is genuine. Steward Feng, please prepare paper and ink. I will draft the letter of withdrawal myself.”

Feng Tong had not expected matters to proceed so smoothly. He beamed, hurriedly arranging the writing table and ink. As he ground the ink, he shot a sidelong glance at Xu You, thinking: I’ve heard that, among the Xu family’s seven sons, few are skilled with the brush; most are accustomed to swords and spears. Who knows what sort of ugly handwriting he’ll produce? I must watch closely and later tell Third Lady for a laugh.

Yuan Jie was likewise puzzled. He had seen Xu You’s calligraphy before—after the Xu family sent their marriage proposal, he’d managed to obtain one of Xu You’s writing samples. The childish scrawl made him hesitate for a long time. If not for the urgent circumstances and the advantage of having the martial strength of the Xu clan as support for his own family’s future, he would never have agreed to the match.

Now, considering that the letter of withdrawal might be reviewed by their lord, and ugly handwriting would be a disgrace, Yuan Jie advised, “Seventh Master, you have only just recovered from illness, and your wrist may not be strong enough. Why not have the household scribe write it, and you can simply sign and seal it?”

Xu You smiled lightly. “That won’t be necessary.” Then he took up the brush, composed himself, closed his eyes in thought, and when he opened them again, his entire bearing changed. His brush moved like a silver serpent over the page, and the words of the withdrawal letter flowed forth in a single, unbroken sweep:

“The bond of husband and wife arises from fated ties over three lifetimes, bringing them together in this life. Should the bond prove ill-suited, as if adversaries, thus they come face to face. Since our hearts are not as one, it is hard to unite our will. Let us return to our paths, each to their own. May you, lady, after our parting, comb your hair anew, paint your brows with care, display your grace and beauty, and find a worthy lord for your high hall. Let us part freely, each to find happiness.”

After signing his name and pressing his fingerprint, Xu You washed his hands in the brass basin Feng Tong presented, and smiled gently: “Unable to be joined with the Yuan family is my own misfortune. I wish Third Lady soon to find a worthy husband, to live in filial happiness, and may your music and harmony last a hundred years.”

The phrase “to enjoy beans and water in filial happiness” is from the Record of Rites: “To eat beans and drink water with all joy, this is called filial piety.” This was the origin of the phrase, but Yuan Jie had no time to wonder whether Xu You had mastered the Classic of Rites among the Five Classics, to be able to quote so readily from it. All he could do was stare in astonishment at the letter of withdrawal.

Even Feng Tong was gaping in shock. Though not as learned as Yuan Jie, he often served in the study and had some discernment. Xu You’s handwriting—he couldn’t say exactly what made it so, but it could only be described in two words:

Astounding!

The calligraphy of the Wei and Jin periods inherited the Han tradition, established the techniques of Sui and Tang, inspired the style of Song, influenced Yuan and Ming, and contributed to the simplicity of Qing and the Republic. It was a milestone in the history of calligraphy, and in terms of script evolution, all forms—seal, clerical, regular, running, and cursive—were perfected in this era. Among its most illustrious masters were Zhong Yao and Wang Xizhi.

Zhong Yao, a man of the Three Kingdoms, pioneered the transformation from clerical to regular script. Wang Xizhi’s fame was even greater—hailed as the Sage of Calligraphy, it was in his hands that regular script flourished. Wang’s model works in small regular script, such as The Yellow Court Classic and On Yue Yi, were renowned for their fluid strokes and vivid spirit—the latter especially called the “finest regular script.”

But in the era to which Xu You had traveled, the Wang family of Langya had perished in the chaos of the Five Barbarians, and a butterfly’s flutter could stir a storm a thousand miles away, let alone such a great upheaval. In this timeline, Wang Xizhi simply had never existed—neither in the South nor the North.

Thus, when Xu You had glanced at the marriage contract and uttered a soft “hmm,” it was because the regular script on the contract was still the half-clerical, half-regular style that had evolved from Zhong Yao’s work two centuries prior—still immature.

Clerical script is known for its “wave” strokes, with the “silkworm head and wild goose tail” as its hallmark. The contract’s brushwork showed little difference from Han clerical script in its wave and pick strokes, but the initial stroke used the method of regular script—cutting in at an angle, forming a slanted rectangle instead of the rounded silkworm head. This made the “wave” strokes flat in the middle and upturned at both ends, like a small boat. The upright left-falling strokes also began with the regular script’s angled cut. Hooks sometimes resembled clerical, sometimes regular. The dots were triangular, mostly with square brush, and the left-falling, right-falling, and hook strokes tended to be rounded.

The blend of regular and clerical was, in fact, typical of any period of script evolution—mutual restraint and influence. There was nothing extraordinary about it.

What struck Xu You was that in two hundred years, no second Wang Xizhi had arisen to lead a revolution in calligraphy!

Having traversed two worlds and witnessed centuries of change, he realized: there was still only one Sage of Calligraphy.

After this reflection, Xu You could barely contain his excitement, for he suddenly realized: perhaps he was the only person in this world who could write in the Wang style.

In his past life, Xu You had held high office, whether swept up in the national study revival or out of personal interest, and for over a decade had studied under several renowned teachers. He began with Wang Xizhi, then learned from Chu Suiliang, and finally Ouyang Xun. With intelligence and diligence, his regular script had the charm of Wang, the austerity of Chu, and occasionally the sharpness of Ouyang. If not reaching the full mastery of those three, he could at least claim some of their spirit.

Even more remarkable, at the moment he picked up the brush, his body and mind seemed to enter a wondrous realm—all around him faded away, and between heaven and earth, only his brush and the characters he wrote remained.

Thus, the withdrawal letter poured forth in one go. Even to himself, it seemed he had performed at two hundred percent—seven or eight-tenths the liveliness of the Wang style, flawlessly and without hesitation.

Perhaps it was because the original Xu You was skilled in martial arts, with far greater wrist strength and coordination, and combined with his own skills, produced this miraculous result?

Xu You could not say, nor did he care to investigate further. After all, this was a change for the better, and among the few pieces of good fortune since his rebirth.

Yet on his face, there was not the slightest ripple of emotion, as if he had done something utterly trivial.

The Yuan family governed their household by Confucian principles and valued calligraphy highly. Yuan Jie had worn out many brushes since childhood and had a keener eye than most scholars. Thus, when he saw Xu You’s writing, it was as if a new world had opened before him. The technique was as rigorous as Zhong Yao’s, yet the structure was more intricate and lively, and it possessed a grace and elegance foreign to any calligrapher, ancient or modern. Faintly, it seemed to have the grandeur to found a new school of its own!

Of course, Xu You’s brushwork could not truly compare to the immortal masters, but sometimes innovation is more stirring than perfect mastery. Especially to someone like Yuan Jie, who believed that clerical script had reached its peak, while regular script had not yet matured, the sight of Xu You’s calligraphy was a thunderclap—he felt a surge of inexplicable joy.

“Master Yuan… Master Yuan?” someone called.

“Hm?” Yuan Jie snapped out of his reverie, realizing his own loss of composure, but he could not care about that now. Fixing his gaze on Xu You, he asked, “Seventh Master, where did you learn this script?”

“I copied Grand Tutor Zhong’s works,” Xu You replied.

It was common for everyone to study Zhong Yao, so this was no falsehood. Yet Yuan Jie pressed on, “When did you copy? Which piece?”

This, Xu You truly could not answer. Zhong Yao’s originals had long since been lost, only copies remained. He had copied the Triumph Memorial, but one does not copy only a single work, so he merely smiled mysteriously and said, “The time and the piece are not important. What matters is that, while copying, I distilled twelve principles from Grand Tutor Zhong’s calligraphy.”

“Twelve principles?” Yuan Jie, widely read though he was, had never heard of anyone distilling twelve principles from Zhong Yao’s work. His interest was piqued. “What are these twelve principles?”