The horse-drawn carriage provided by the Mirror Academy swayed gently along the paved road heading north. Li Yuan sat in contemplative silence, watching the scenery change from Hexin's fertile plains to increasingly familiar rolling hills. Every kilometer brought him closer to memories that had lain dormant for centuries.
It's been three hundred years, Li Yuan reflected, feeling a subtle tremor from the Understanding of Memory beginning to resonate with this familiar land. Three hundred years since I last saw Ziran Village. The small village where it all began.
The landscape began to change as they entered the region that was once the border of Ziran Village. The first thing that surprised Li Yuan was... its magnificence. Where there was once only a small, winding path among the hills, now lay a wide, neatly paved road. Where there were once only wild trees and bushes, now stood well-ordered gardens and sturdy houses.
"Master," the coachman said, turning back, "we're now entering the city of Ziran. Would you like to stop before continuing the journey to the Academy?"
The city of Ziran. Li Yuan felt a strange, warm feeling touch his heart. The quiet little village has become a city.
"Yes," Li Yuan answered, his voice slightly hoarse with unexpected emotion. "I would like... I would like to look around for a bit."
The carriage stopped at the edge of the wide road, and Li Yuan stepped out with unsteady steps—not from physical fatigue, but from being overwhelmed by the incredible transformation of this place that was once so familiar.
Where a simple wooden gate once stood, marking the entrance to the village, there was now a magnificent stone archway with beautiful carvings. Above it, written in elegant script: "Ziran City - Birthplace of Wisdom."
Birthplace of Wisdom. Li Yuan felt a deep mixture of pride and humility. They remember. Even after centuries, they still remember what happened here.
Li Yuan walked into the city with slow steps, trying to recognize familiar landmarks amid the dramatic changes. The roads that were once dirt and stone were now paved with smooth stones. The houses that were once simple, made of wood and clay, were now sturdy buildings with beautiful architecture that still maintained an elegant simplicity.
But the most surprising thing was the number of people. Where Ziran Village once only had a hundred souls, now hundreds of people moved with a busy yet calm energy. Merchants, artisans, students with books in their hands, families taking a leisurely stroll.
And what was most striking was how people interacted with each other. There was a calm in the way they spoke, a patience in the way they listened, and a kindness in the way they helped those in need. It was as if... as if the values Li Yuan had taught centuries ago had become a part of the city's culture.
Li Yuan walked through the main street, his heart pounding when he recognized the outline of the small hill where his childhood home once stood. Now, that hill had become a beautiful complex of buildings with a neatly arranged garden.
As Li Yuan approached the area, he saw a small marble plaque beside the road:
"The Li Yuan Memorial Complex - Established in honor of the village child who grew to become a teacher for generations and an inspiration for the community. 'True understanding is written with a life, not with ink.'"
Li Yuan stopped abruptly, his breath caught in his throat. They... they built a memorial for me. And they quoted the words I once said.
With trembling steps, Li Yuan entered the memorial area. In the middle of the beautiful garden stood a simple pavilion open on all sides. Inside, a simple wooden table with a small chair—a replica of the place where Li Yuan once taught the village children.
And on the walls of the pavilion, hung writings in various languages and styles, all telling the same story: about a boy who grew up in this village, who then returned to teach with wisdom and humility, who then disappeared but left behind a living legacy of wisdom.
A powerful flashback struck Li Yuan as he looked at that wooden table.
Three hundred years ago, in this very spot, he sat with eight enthusiastic children...
"Xiao Hu," Li Yuan called to the boy who always came the earliest, "do you like stories?"
The boy's eyes lit up. "Yes, Brother Yuan! Especially stories about brave and kind people!"
"Good, today we'll learn how to read the stories that the world itself has written."
"Shui," Li Yuan called to the boy who always sat a little apart, "what are you writing in your heart today?"
The boy smiled a deep smile. "I'm listening, Brother Yuan. Listening to what has no sound."
"Lan," Li Yuan turned to the little girl who always wrote her mother's name in the dirt, "do you want to hang your name in front of the house today?"
The girl nodded enthusiastically. "So everyone knows who I am!"
"Meng," Li Yuan helped the boy who always struggled with the last letter of his name, "it's okay if it's difficult. The important thing is not to give up."
Tears streamed down the boy's face when he finally managed to write his name perfectly. "I did it, Brother Yuan! I did it!"
"Jie'er," Li Yuan touched the head of the short-haired girl who was crying as she prepared for him to leave again, "remember what we learned about memories. They never truly disappear."
"Su Mei," Li Yuan smiled at the little girl who asked if she could draw the rain, "of course you can draw the rain. Sometimes a drawing tells a story better than words."
"Mu Lan," Li Yuan welcomed the girl who always came the earliest without a book or a smile, "today we'll learn about how everyone has a light inside them, even when they don't feel it."
Li Yuan felt tears stream down his face as those memories flooded his consciousness. The enthusiastic, questioning children. The innocent faces that absorbed every word he said with incredible curiosity.
And Shui... the little Shui who would grow up to become Master Shui, the founder of the Mirror Academy.
Li Yuan left the memorial pavilion with a heavy heart and walked to another familiar area—the place where the old village library once stood. And there, he found another surprise.
The small old library had been transformed into a magnificent library complex, with buildings spread across several courtyards. At the main gate, it was written: "The Root of the Soul Library - Preserving Knowledge for Future Generations."
Li Yuan entered with mixed feelings. The interior of the library had changed completely—the shelves that once held a few hundred books now held thousands, with neat categorization and a sophisticated system. But in the most familiar corner, the corner where Li Yuan once spent hours alone reading and reflecting, there was still a simple wooden chair with a small table.
And on that table, an open book that Li Yuan recognized very well. The book that his mysterious teacher had once given him—the empty book that Li Yuan had once seen as a challenge to write his own understanding of the world.
"Excuse me," an old library guard approached with careful steps, "are you looking for something in particular?"
"I... I'm visiting places I once knew," Li Yuan answered with an unsteady voice. "May I ask about this book?"
The library guard's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Ah, that is one of our library's greatest treasures! The empty book that is said to have been left by the legendary teacher who once taught in this village. According to the stories passed down, that teacher said that true understanding must be written with a life, not with ink."
The words I once said. Li Yuan felt something both warm and sad touch his heart.
"And the book has remained empty until now?" Li Yuan asked softly.
"Yes. We preserve it as a reminder that the greatest wisdom is not what is written on pages, but what lives in our daily actions and character."
They understand. After three hundred years, they still understand the meaning of what I was trying to convey.
The afternoon was drawing to a close when Li Yuan walked to the last area he wanted to visit—the place where his childhood home once stood, where he had lived with his father and mother.
That area had now become a beautiful memorial garden, with flowers that bloomed all year round and a small fountain that flowed peacefully. In the middle of the garden, a simple tombstone with an inscription:
"Li Haoming and Ye Ling - The parents who taught love by example, who raised a child who would become a light for many."
Li Yuan knelt before the tombstone, feeling a profound grief that had never truly left him, even after centuries.
Father, he whispered in his heart, you were the one who taught me about strength and weakness, about protecting without dominating. You were the one who gave me the name Li Yuan—Root of Eternity and Beginning of Understanding—with the hope that I would become something meaningful.
Mother, tears flowed more fiercely, you were the one who left me when I was just ten years old, but who in that short time taught me about unconditional love, about a gentleness that can heal the deepest wounds.
Both of you died in my arms, giving me a final lesson on how to face loss with grace and dignity.
Li Yuan felt the Understanding of Memory that was wrapped within him begin to vibrate with a powerful resonance, as if all the memories from three hundred years ago were coming back with incredible intensity.
And here, in this place, I learned about my first and deepest loss. A loss that taught me that love does not end with death, that memory can be a loyal companion, that grief can be transformed into a deeper compassion for the suffering of others.
As the sun began to set, Li Yuan stood from his kneeling position and looked around the city that was once his village. An incredible transformation. From a quiet village with a hundred souls to a thriving city with thousands of inhabitants. From a secluded place to a center of learning and wisdom.
And all of this, he realized with a mixture of pride and heavy responsibility, began with a few months spent teaching a group of children how to see the world with clear eyes and compassionate hearts.
Little Shui who 'wrote within' grew up to become Master Shui who founded the Mirror Academy. The simple teachings about being a clear mirror grew into a tradition of wisdom that has helped hundreds of people. And the small village where it all began has become a city that embodies the values I once taught.
Li Yuan felt the weight of the legacy he had created—not a crushing burden, but a profound responsibility to ensure that his contribution to the Mirror Academy would be worthy of the foundation that had been so carefully built over centuries.
Tomorrow, he decided, walking back towards the waiting carriage, I will arrive at the Mirror Academy. I will see with my own eyes what has grown from the seeds I planted centuries ago. And I will do my best to honor the memory of little Shui by making a meaningful contribution to the tradition he built.
But for tonight, Li Yuan looked up at the stars beginning to appear in the dark sky, I will remember. Remember the enthusiastic children, the loving parents, the wise teacher, and the small village that taught me that sometimes the greatest change begins with the smallest actions performed with love and sincerity.
Remember that every ending is also a beginning, every loss is also an opportunity for deeper growth, and every parting is also a preparation for a more meaningful reunion.
As the carriage began to move again, carrying Li Yuan away from Ziran City towards the Mirror Academy, he felt that he was not just on a geographical journey, but also a complex temporal one—from a past that had shaped his identity, through a present full of possibility, toward a future that would determine how this story would continue.
A journey to the past, he reflected, feeling the calming rhythm of the carriage wheels on the stone road, has become a preparation for the future. A reminder of where I came from, what I once taught, and the responsibility I carry to honor a legacy that has grown far beyond anything I ever imagined.