Chapter 43: A Soulmate Is Hard to Find, A Century Is All Too Brief

Time passed in the blink of an eye, and thirty years drifted by like a gentle breeze.

The Jixia Academy remained a bastion of scholarly excellence, yet subtle but profound changes had taken root. The "Hall of Investigation," once largely ignored, had become one of the most popular lecture halls in the academy. Whenever Dean Jiang gave a talk, the room would be packed to capacity, with students even crowding outside the windows just to listen in.

The "Science of Investigation" taught by Jiang Xiuyuan had evolved from initial concepts of gravity and buoyancy to later topics like electromagnetic induction, optical refraction, the three states of matter, and even the prototype of the periodic table. Through vivid, intuitive experiments and rigorous, meticulous logical reasoning, he had subtly implanted a scientific worldview based on physics and chemistry into the hearts of these Confucian scholars.

"Investigating things to extend knowledge" was no longer just an empty phrase; it had become a rigorous discipline that could be studied, verified, and developed. Students began to habitually ask "why" and "how can this be proven," rather than merely citing the classics of the sages. An unprecedented spirit of inquiry, favoring empirical evidence and logic, had quietly arisen within Jixia Academy.

Naturally, opposition and criticism never ceased. Many pedantic scholars were distraught, labeling Dean Jiang a "corrupter of the Way" and his science a "flood and wild beast" threatening the foundations of the academy. However, Jiang Xiuyuan never argued with them. He simply used one irrefutable experimental fact after another, making the supposed "majesty of the Heavenly Way" appear pale and powerless in the face of objective natural laws.

Amidst this tide of thought, two figures were always inseparable.

One was Jiang Yiyi, who had grown increasingly elegant and graceful. Time had left no trace upon her face, yet her eyes were deeper and more tranquil than they had been thirty years ago. The other was Zimo, the once lean youth who had now reached the age of forty, sporting a short beard.

Zimo was undoubtedly Jiang Xiuyuan’s most brilliant student. He possessed the noble spirit and literary flair of a Confucian scholar, combined with the rationality and logic of the scientific method. By skillfully blending the two, he wrote essays that were both artistically refined and philosophically profound, often interpreting the classics of the sages from entirely new perspectives. His reputation had spread throughout the academy, and he had become the undisputed leader of the "New Learning" school.

As for Jiang Yiyi, she had become Zimo’s only true confidante.

They attended lectures together in the Hall of Investigation, and after class, they would often go to the academy’s "Debate Platform" to discuss their ideas.

"Yiyi, I have a question regarding what Dean Jiang said today about the 'conservation of energy,'" Zimo said, looking at her with glowing eyes. "If energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but only transformed from one form into another, then does the way we Confucian scholars absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth and refine it into our noble spirit also count as a form of energy conversion? And where does that spiritual energy come from? Will it ever run out?"

Jiang Yiyi tilted her head, pondered for a moment, and answered in the way her father had taught her: "Father says that spiritual energy might be the leakage and residue of energy from a higher dimension at the dawn of the world’s creation. It is like a vast pond; our cultivation is merely scooping water from it. If we only scoop and never replenish, it will eventually run dry. Perhaps there are ways unknown to us that replenish this pond—like the power of the stars or the tides of the void?"

Zimo’s eyes lit up as he clapped his hands in delight. "Brilliant! The power of the stars, the tides of the void! To solve the mysteries of cultivation through the principles of investigation—Yiyi, your ideas are always so imaginative, yet they strike straight to the core! One conversation with you is worth ten years of study!"

Jiang Yiyi smiled, her eyes curving into crescents. This pure joy, born of the collision of ideas, was something she had never experienced in the Hundred Herbs Valley or the Beast-Taming Lin family. Here, no one cared about her level of cultivation, and no one was intimidated by her background. Zimo treated her as a completely equal friend with whom he could exchange thoughts freely.

This friendship was as pure as it was precious.

They would climb the observatory late at night to gaze at the stars through a simple telescope crafted by Jiang Xiuyuan. Zimo would recite poetry about the "brilliance of the Milky Way," while Jiang Yiyi would explain that every twinkling star might be a sun as massive and fiery as our own, located at an unreachable distance.

In the spring, they would dissect a flower to observe its structure and discuss how it thrived through pollination by bees. Zimo would marvel at the wonders of creation, while Jiang Yiyi would explain the theory of "co-evolution."

Time flew by amidst such fulfilling and joyful exchanges.

Another thirty years passed.

Jiang Xiuyuan remained the same "Dean Jiang," his appearance unchanged. Jiang Yiyi was still the same girl of twenty.

But Zimo had entered his sixties. His hair had turned gray, his face was lined with wrinkles, and his once upright posture was now slightly stooped. He remained the most respected scholar at Jixia Academy, and the first draft of his *New Treatise on the Investigation of Things* had caused a massive sensation. However, the aging of his body was something no amount of knowledge could halt.

One day, they were sitting as usual under the old locust tree by the Debate Platform.

"Cough, cough..." Zimo could not suppress a violent fit of coughing. He covered his mouth with a handkerchief, and when he pulled it away, there was a startling smear of bright red.

Jiang Yiyi’s heart tightened. She knew that Zimo’s lifespan was coming to an end. Although Confucian scholars could prolong their lives with their noble spirit, Zimo had been born weak, and the toll of his lifelong devotion to study meant that a hundred years would likely be his limit.

"I am fine," Zimo said with a wave of his hand, offering her a gentle smile. "To be born, grow old, and die—it is the way of nature. There is no escaping it."

He looked at Jiang Yiyi’s face, as young as it had been decades ago. A flicker of envy crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by calm and resignation. He asked softly, "Yiyi, what is the origin of you and the Dean? Will you... live forever?"

Jiang Yiyi fell silent. This was the first time they had touched upon this taboo subject.

She pondered for a long time. She and her father had not changed in what felt like three or four thousand years. She gave a faint nod. "Yes."

Zimo let out a long sigh, one filled with regret and reflection, yet entirely devoid of jealousy. He smiled and said, "That is wonderful. I truly wish I could see more of this world, to see what becomes of the science of investigation in the future. Alas, a hundred years is all too short; I will never see it."

Jiang Yiyi’s eyes turned slightly red. For the first time, she felt the passage of time with such clarity and cruelty. For her and her father, sixty years was no more than a nap, but for Zimo, it was the greater part of a lifetime, from youth to old age.

She looked at her dear friend, his temples white and his breath shallow, and remembered the bright-eyed youth from the Hall of Investigation sixty years ago. A wave of unprecedented sorrow and helplessness washed over her.

Immortality, it turned out, was not merely possessing endless time; it meant having to watch, again and again, as the important people in one's life reached their inevitable end.

It was a destiny of farewells.

"Zimo..." Jiang Yiyi’s voice choked. "If there is a next life, I..."

"There is no next life," Zimo interrupted, his eyes clear and resolute. "Dean Jiang taught us that while the spirit may be passed on, the independent 'self,' once dissipated, is gone forever. I do not seek a next life; I only hope to have no regrets in this one."

He stood up shakily and looked toward the setting sun. The golden twilight cast upon his aged face gave him an air of sanctity.

"To have known you and the Dean, and to have caught a glimpse of the vastness of the universe—that has been the greatest blessing of my life. Yiyi, promise me, keep watching for me... keep walking forward, and seek to understand the 'reason why' of this world."

Jiang Yiyi nodded firmly as tears finally slid down her cheeks.

The day of her farewell to the second true confidante of her life was not far off. And this parting would become the second deep, painful scar on her long life—the first having been in Andu.