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In this world, there are far too many people who take things for granted.
Fei Qian recalled a joke from before—an unfunny joke.
A child was learning characters. The teacher taught him "one," "two," and "three." Delighted, the child threw down his brush and ran to tell his father that he had already learned everything. His father was overjoyed and asked the child to write an invitation to a friend whose surname was Wan, meaning ten thousand, inviting him to visit...
But from morning until night, the invitation was still not finished. When his father checked on him, he found the child sprawled on the ground, still endlessly drawing horizontal strokes, miserably complaining, "Why did that man have to be surnamed Wan? If he were only surnamed Bai, meaning a hundred, I would have finished ages ago..."
Heh.
The gentry of the Han Dynasty, these men of wisdom, emphasized not merely seeing one, two, and three, but seeing as far as a hundred, or even ten thousand...
He who saw the shorter distance was eliminated from the game.
The setting sun was gradually sinking, dyeing the horizon a bloody crimson, just like the day He Jin was assassinated.
A sudden chill came over Fei Qian, as if converging on him from every direction, swallowing him whole, then kneading and pressing against every cell in his body, wringing out the very last trace of warmth.
Fei Qian pondered.
He felt as though he were standing upon a dividing line. Behind this line lay the ordinary world—a clear world, a simple world. Eating, drinking, sleeping, defecating, finding a woman, having a child, and then, just like that, watching the child grow up, watching oneself grow old...
And on the other side of the line, there was only chaos.
Fei Qian tried to reach out his hand to feel it, but discovered he was still standing on this side of the line. Yet strangely, when he pressed his palm against the empty air, he could feel the faintest sensation of resistance, a slight viscosity.
"This is a world belonging to the few."
Fei Qian murmured to himself in a low voice, shaking his head.
Of course, he understood what was happening. The so-called sensation was merely an imagining in his mind. This Han Dynasty was neither a world of immortals and chivalrous heroes nor a work of science fiction; it was simply a feeling.
It was just like in the later era, watching those national political leaders and world billionaires on television. Even without saying it, everyone understood that, although they and we stood on the same Earth, we were most certainly people of two entirely different worlds.
Outside this line was the world of ordinary people, where there was no need to think too much, nor could one think too much.
Inside this line was the world of the few, a realm a physical body could not enter; only the mind could explore it...
This was a pivotal opportunity.
And the key to this opportunity was his own epithet.
Hidden Whale, Fledgling Phoenix. Next to come would be Sleeping Dragon, wouldn't it?
And after that, who else?
Who were these epithets created for? And who was qualified to receive them?
Fei Qian simulated, conjectured...
Not even an idiot would believe that Sima Hui had bestowed these titles upon him and Pang Tong merely so Fei Qian could amuse himself, or Pang Tong could amuse himself, or just to satisfy Sima Hui's own personal hobby as some sort of epithet virtuoso.
Then what was the meaning behind it?
Before Sima Hui, from the time he first made his name until now, how many people had he ever given epithets to?
Fei Qian could not remember. In his impression, it was only the two—Sleeping Dragon and Fledgling Phoenix—who were most renowned. And even Xu Shu, who could be counted as Sima Hui's disciple, still lacked an epithet. Why was that?
A matter of stark clarity now suddenly presented itself before Fei Qian. Either he took a step backward, returning to the world of ordinary people—just as in the later era, relying on his own pitiful experiences, showing off appropriately, drifting through life awaiting death, perhaps even amusing the crowd and himself for a moment, pointing out the landscape, rousing words of passion...
But of course, that was all it would ever be. One could point out the landscape and rouse words of passion, but the landscape was not his own, and the words had to pass through review...
Or, he could take a step further forward.
To pass through that intangible dividing line and touch the world that ordinary people could not perceive?
That line seemed designed precisely to separate the ordinary from the few, targeting the inherent traits of human beings themselves. It was like a dense fog. The moment one tried to touch it, one would feel suffocated and dizzy, then become distracted by other matters, ultimately unable to use the mind to illuminate this thick shroud of darkness...
Huang Xu brought over some of the evening meal, but Fei Qian felt absolutely no desire to eat. He simply told Huang Xu to set it down on the rock beside him.
What exactly was hidden behind this epithet?
There was no doubt that he could indeed benefit from it and could use such a title to save himself a great deal of the groundwork he would otherwise have had to lay. Just like with Han Hao—after learning of this epithet, Han Hao's attitude had clearly become much warmer, and he had displayed a certain respect and admiration.
These were all good things. The greater the achievements he earned, the more resounding the epithet would become. As more and more people came to know of this title, his own fame and prestige would gradually grow...
From this perspective, it was indeed a good thing.
But Fei Qian also firmly believed in another saying: pie never simply falls from the sky. Because even if the Jade Emperor or the Buddha were to have a momentary lapse of judgment and decide to squander the family fortune, their great stewards—Grand White Venus or the Bodhisattva Guanyin—would certainly step forward and put a stop to such foolishness.
He himself would not refuse such a good thing. Of course, he believed that the vast majority of people, when faced with Sima Hui staking his reputation on them, would likewise not refuse...
So, looking at it from his own perspective, there seemed to be no problem to be found.
Then, let him look from another angle. If he gained this title, and under a positive, virtuous cycle, what benefits would Sima Hui reap? And if he were unfortunately to fall into a vicious cycle of development, what impact would that have on Sima Hui?
Sima Hui resided in Yingchuan and was known as Master Water Mirror. He associated very closely with great Confucian scholars like Pang Degong and possessed tremendous fame and prestige...
In this world, many problems are difficult—difficult because the answers are buried beneath countless complicated clues.
It is like a tangled ball of hemp thread. At the very start, from amidst a mass of irrelevant, even deliberately confusing, information, one must search for the single, unique answer, and find the one thread that leads in the correct direction.
And among these threads, it is terribly difficult to choose, because while standing outside the tangled mass, one cannot see the situation within. Most people, the moment they are handed such a tangled ball of hemp, are already halfway to surrendering. Then, after attempting to pull out a few loose ends without success, they subconsciously resort to the method they consider best—cutting the tangled mess apart with a wild slashing of blades...
That might be one solution.
But could it be that this very solution is precisely what the other party hopes for?
Time slipped away relentlessly as Fei Qian, the solver of this riddle, remained lost in thought. In the darkness of the night, beside the great river, he pondered ceaselessly, as if slowly teasing apart the various loose ends of this tangled ball, striving to find amidst them all the one thread that was the most fundamental, the most essential.
Unknowingly, the darkness of night passed, and a line of brightness reappeared in the east. A new day had dawned. The light of early morning shone upon Fei Qian's face and ignited a gleam in his eyes.