Although born and raised in Luo Village, Xiao Luo didn’t particularly believe in Seekong’s spirit, though he deeply respected Seekong for his great deeds to the village in the past. He was an icon of the community, and over the generations, the people of Luo Village had revered him and sought his spiritual protection. The cult of Seekong was sacred to the villagers of Luo.
Ji Siying drank a bowl of the divine water. It was refreshing and sweet, with a faint fragrance to it that gladdened the heart. After drinking it, she felt revitalized. She glanced at Xiao Luo, and when he wasn’t paying attention, she quickly filled the remaining divine water in a small bottle she had brought along with her. She intended to take it back to the NSA for research and to analyze its contents, hoping to discover something about this water.
After the memorial ceremony, several middle-aged women of Luo Village went into the kitchen by the side of the shrine to prepare servings of chicken congee for the congregation.
Old man Xiao Quanren remained at the altar, preparing to write auspicious couplets for the Seekong Altar. He was a notable calligraphist, and his skill was renowned in the entire village. With a brush in his hand, he produced characters that were magnificent and elegant in style.
“You youngsters should learn calligraphy for it is a precious treasure that had been passed down by our ancestors. It is a profound art form, and in capable hands, one can instill life into characters. If it is not continued, the art will be lost one day,” Xiao Dizhang said, addressing the youngsters present at the shrine.
Some nodded in agreement, some scoffed at the suggestion like it was a joke, while others remained unresponsive as if it had nothing to do with them.
“Is the Wise One really good in calligraphy?” a boy around seven or eight asked curiously.
“Of course.”
With a look of pride, Xiao Dizhang said to the lad, “The Wise One was a scholar back in the Qing Dynasty. He is well versed in the “four books and five classics” [1], can compose poems in seven steps, and is even more excellent in calligraphy. Even the other calligraphists in the county praised his beautiful work.”
“Wow, the Wise One is awesome!”
The boy’s eyes instantly shone with adoration and respect.
“Shh… be quiet. Master Xiao Quanren is about to begin writing.” Someone called for the crowd to remain silent, gesturing with his index finger against his lips.
Two red-colored xuan paper sheets were spread out on the table. Xiao Quanren put on his pair of worn-out reading glasses, picked up the brush, and was just about to begin writing. The entire Seekong shrine fell into dead silence as everyone had their eyes fixed on him. For many of them, watching him work his brushstrokes was a pleasure unto itself. He wrote his characters elegantly, and the couplets he composed were superb and carried the allusion and grandeur of the old classics.
But something didn’t seem right that night, as old man Xiao Quanren’s hand suddenly halted in mid-air before he even began writing his first character. He stayed that way for an uncomfortably long time, and the brush was shaking uncontrollably in his hand.
“What’s wrong with the Wise One?” the boy asked once again.
“Shh, don’t speak. The Wise One is contemplating what to write and will only begin after he’s done thinking,” the boy’s father whispered to him.
But after ten minutes, old man Xiao Quanren had yet to move his shaking brush. Finally, a drop of ink dripped from the brush’s tip onto the red calligraphy paper, smearing it with a massive splotch.
This was an absolute taboo in calligraphy!
According to the tenets of calligraphy, a situation like that should never happen and was simply unacceptable.
Everyone in the crowd looked at each other. “What’s wrong with the Wise One?”
“Parkinson disease. The wise one is suffering from a neurodegenerative disease that is very common among the elderly.” Xiao Luo figured it out at a glance.
Despite the belief that divine water protected one from all illnesses, it was really the placebo-effect that worked wonders for the believers. No one could ever be immune to all diseases. Hearing Xiao Luo’s words, Xiao Dizhang turned to him with a look of concern and asked, “Xiao Luo, are you sure that he is sick?”
“Come off it, Xiao Luo. The Wise One is as healthy as can be. Don’t jinx the old man!” Xiao Qiudong chided him, coming across in a smugly self-righteous way.
Xiao Luo ignored his remark and responded to Xiao Dizhang’s question. “Parkinson’s symptoms include resting tremors, slowness in his actions, increased muscle tone, and resistance to limb movement caused by involuntary muscle contractions. The Wise One is unable to move while his hands are shaking, which characterizes Parkinson’s disease.”
“How are you so sure about that? You’re not a doctor!” Xiao Qiudong shouted.
The others shared his doubts as they thought that only a doctor had the right to give that prognosis.
Then, Xiao Quanren put down the brush, smiled weakly, and said, “Xiao Luo’s right. I went for a medical checkup at the county hospital some time ago. The doctor said that I contracted a disease whose name is tough to remember. It has come back to my mind now that Xiao Luo had mentioned it. Pump-kin-son, it is.”
“It’s Parkinson, Wise One,” Xiao Luo corrected him with a smile.
Xiao Quanren smiled with squinted eyes and said, “Ah, yes, yes. Par-kin-son, it is. Sigh, that’s what you get when you grow old. My memory worsens as the days go by.”
After hearing Xiao Quanren’s affirmation, the crowd looked upon Xiao Luo with deep regard.
Xiao Dizhang asked further, “Xiao Luo, since you know what illness this is, you should know how to treat it, right?”
Xiao Luo shook his head, “This is a complication due to old age, and as far as I know, there’s no way of treating it. But, it won’t affect his lifespan; it’s just that when he is focused on doing something, some parts of his body will tremble uncontrollably, unable to stay still.”
Everyone let out a sigh of relief, all was good as long as it wasn’t life-threatening.
“Xiao Luo looks like your days in university were not in vain. You have knowledge in so many areas.”
“Yeah, I haven’t heard of this Parkinson’s Disease before. You taught me something new today.”
“Looks like we still need to get our child to further his studies. It will come in handy after all.”
Xiao Qiudong was incensed, and his awful expression said it all. He never made it to university and had resorted to comparing his career to that of Xiao Luo, intending to prove his theory that studying was overrated. As it turned out, he had just been proven wrong, and that had made him hate Xiao Luo even more.
“That’s for sure, Luo is the only person who had gone to university in our village. His qualification is the highest, so of course, he knows a lot more,” Xiao Ping gushed, praising Xiao Luo unreservedly.
Xiao Qiudong couldn’t contain himself anymore and directed his hostility toward Xiao Ping. “What nonsense are you talking about! Who said that if one attends university, that would mean one will know a lot? University students nowadays are nothing compared to those in the past. They aren’t learning anything during their four years in university, they are busy dating, fooling around, and wasting their time. Anyway, university graduates are just a bunch of lazy people.”
He directed those remarks at Xiao Ping, but his intention to criticize Xiao Luo was very obvious to the crowd.
“Dong Dong, that’s too strong of an opinion, is it not?”
“Yeah, Xiao Luo can’t be that kind of person. Otherwise, Miss Ji wouldn’t have liked him.”
“It is still better to study more and widen your field of knowledge.”
Xiao Ping dared not respond to Xiao Qiudong, but the crowd, however, didn’t take kindly to Xiao Qiudong’s outburst at all. Besides, Luo Village was a small community, and everyone knew about Xiao Ping’s predicament. They were well aware that Xiao Ping had borrowed money from Xiao Qiudong, and they didn’t appreciate how rudely Xiao Qiudong acted toward Xiao Ping. To take advantage of someone else’s ill-fortune was despicable.
Seeing how everybody reacted, Xiao Qiudong wisely kept quiet.
But there was a rather urgent problem that they had to deal with. Now that Xiao Quanren was unable to write the couplets for the Seekong Altar, who else could do it?
Xiao Dizhang threw the question to the crowd, but everyone only shook their heads. Most of the villagers were farmers. They could carry out any kind of farming work expeditiously, but handling a calligraphy brush was beyond them. Even the characters they wrote with pencils looked like scratch marks made by chicken claws.
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[1] The four books (The Great Learning, the Doctrine of the Mean, Confucian Analects, and The works of Mencius) and the five classics (The book of Songs, The Book of History, The Book of Changes, The Book of Rites and The spring and autumn Annals)
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It was customary to adorn the Seekong altar with a new couplet written in calligraphy on the eve of every New Year. However, this year, the Wise One, Xiao Quanren, had taken ill and was unable to write the couplet. What were they supposed to do?
Xiao Dizhang knitted his eyebrows in a quandary as this was an important custom and would affect the good fortune of the village for the coming year.
“I heard that someone from Chen Village is good in calligraphy as well. Why not invite him over?” a villager suggested.
But someone else immediately refuted his proposal. “Preposterous! The Seekong altar belongs to the Xiao family. If we invite people from the Chens to write the couplet for us, wouldn’t we be mocking ourselves? We can’t do that, absolutely not!”
The statement was spot on, and it gained the support of everyone as the Seekong altar had a great significance to the Xiao clan. On many important occasions, people with other surnames were even not allowed to set foot in the Seekong shrine. Therefore an outsider writing the couplet for the altar was out of the question.
“Why not go to town and get someone to print a copy of a couplet using a computer?” someone else suggested.
Xiao Dizhang shook his head and said, “The couplet must be raised before 12 o’clock tonight. We won’t have enough time for that. Besides, it’s already so late, and the shops in town are all closed. Which shop would be willing to open and do that for us?”
“Hmm…”
The predicament put the crowd in a somber mood, and many wondered how they would be able to resolve such a significant problem, if at all. Recalling what Xiao Dizhang had said earlier, they realized the importance of continuing the practice of calligraphy. The Wise One would not be with them forever, and when the time came, they couldn’t just alter the traditions at the Seekong altar according to their whims and fancies.
“Don’t worry, everyone, since Xiao Luo has been to university, he should know how to do everything, and that surely includes calligraphy. Let’s ask him to write a couplet in place of the Wise One. That’ll solve the problem, won’t it?” Xiao Qiudong said.
Xiao Qiudong was a vindictive sort, and his motive was simply to put Xiao Luo in a tight spot and embarrass himself in front of everyone. He was fixated with the idea of proving to everybody that attending university was nothing to shout about. It irked him that the crowd had so many good things to say about Xiao Luo and how knowledgeable he was. Now he saw the opportunity to prove them all wrong.
“Yes, how did we forget Xiao Luo?!”
The crowd came alive again, filled with a sense of hope. They turned to Xiao Luo with a look of anticipation in their eyes.
Xiao Dizhang looked at Xiao Luo doubtfully and asked, “Xiao Luo, can you do calligraphy?”
“Uncle Dizhang, are you intentionally mocking Xiao Luo? He is a glorified university graduate, the most educated person in our village. If he doesn’t know calligraphy, who else does?”
Xiao Qiudong deliberately raised his voice above the crowd and patted Xiao Luo on the shoulder. “My brother, don’t conceal your talents in such a moment like this. The clan needs you now,” he said.
Xiao Ping gritted his teeth, knowing what Xiao Qiudong was up to. Since when were university graduates supposed to be all-rounders capable of doing everything? Didn’t he call Xiao Luo out so that he would embarrass himself in front of his clansman?”
Xiao Ping tried to find a way out for Xiao Luo and said, “Xiao Luo, it’s okay if you don’t know calligraphy. Very few people know calligraphy these days, so this isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”
Xiao Qiudong glowered at him and shouted, “What do you mean by that, Xiao Ping? Do you think that I’m embarrassing Xiao Luo on purpose?”
“Are you not?” Xiao Ping nervously mumbled his reply, but Xiao Qiudong had heard what he said.
Enraged, Xiao Qiudong sneered at poor Xiao Ping, “What kind of attitude is that?! Do you still want the money?”
“I…”
His stinging statement was deeply humiliating, and Xiao Ping couldn’t find the words to reply. He only raised his head and glared at Xiao Qiudong in anguish.
Old man Xiao Quanren coughed. “A-he-hem… Qiudong, don’t talk like that in front of the Seekong altar. We are all like family, and Seekong will be very displeased if he watches this from above,” he said.
Xiao Dizhang echoed him and added, “Yes indeed, please settle the personal affairs between you in private. Right now, we should be only be talking about the couplet.” He turned his head to look at Xiao Luo and asked again, “Xiao Luo, can you do it?”
“I’ll try.”
Xiao Luo stepped forward with a wry smile on his face.
Xiao Qiudong wasn’t done, and in a tone of contempt, he said, “Xiao Luo, don’t force yourself if you can’t do it, I only spoke randomly just now. Forget it if you can’t do calligraphy, no one will mock at you okay. The Seekong altar is sacred to the clan, and the couplet has to be properly written. If it comes out twisted and crooked like it’s been bitten by a dog, it will absolutely not go on the altar.”
As soon as he said that, everyone stared at him in disgust. They saw in him a vile, loathsome insect, nothing more than an annoying housefly.
Xiao Luo totally ignored him as if he did not exist, then he picked up the brush, and begun dipping it in ink.
The brush felt strange and unfamiliar in Xiao Luo’s hand as he assumed an awkward posture when dipping the brush in ink, and it amused Xiao Qiudong no end. Trained calligraphists such as Qiao Quanren, were particular about every aspect of the art. It was all about the elegance and grace with which one held the brush, that gave a distinguished bearing to the calligrapher. A mere glance at how Xiao Luo held it was enough to tell any onlooker that he was a novice.
Old man Xiao Quanren was observing him by the side and couldn’t help grimacing as doubt formed in his thoughts. “I guess Xiao Luo is only forcing himself!”
Xiao Dizhang was also concerned and asked, “Xiao Luo, are you really up to this?”
“I’ll try my best.”
Xiao Luo closed his eyes as he contemplated what to write, and at the same time, he expended 500 points in exchange for calligraphy skills. Suddenly, the brush in his hand felt natural to him, like it became a part of his body, and many characters and phrases flashed in his mind.
He wasn’t doing this to get back at Xiao Qiudong at all. On the contrary, he just wanted to ensure the Seekong altar’s traditions could carry on, and in that way, contribute something back to the community.
Xiao Luo put brush to paper and wrote the first character: “Zu.”
“Hmm, is that the ‘semi-cursive script?’ That isn’t the typical ‘semi-cursive script,’ perhaps its ‘standard script?’ But it still looks different from the conventional ‘standard script,'” Xiao Quanren muttered to himself, as his eyes lit up. These were evidently no ordinary characters.
Xiao Qiudong, who earlier had a smug look on his face, suddenly froze with an expression of disbelief. “This brat can actually write in calligraphy?”
Ji Siying appeared a little anxious, feeling the need to add another entry into her little diary again.
Xiao Luo was fully absorbed with the task as the brush in his hand slithered around like a serpent. His novice’s demeanor was replaced by a dignified bearing of a calligraphy master. He wrote the entire couplet in clean and elegant strokes without the slightest pause.
The first line: “The virtue of our ancestors endures in the splendor of the sun and moon.”
The second line: “The merits of our clan sparkle across the land and rivers.”
He laid down his brush and admired his work, while the villagers around him were enchanted with what they saw. They didn’t know what calligraphy truly meant, but they felt a profound sense of awe at its beauty and majesty.
Xiao Quanren glanced at Xiao Luo, and his old, wizen eyes were filled with admiration. He was overjoyed and said, “A very well written couplet—the sun, the moon, the land, and the rivers; how majestic it is. And the style of your writing, smooth as the flowing water, yet full of vigor and grace. To be so skillful in the arts at such a young age… not bad, not bad at all, hahaha.”
Xiao Quanren was not only the village shaman but also an accomplished scholar, so naturally, his comments carried with it some authority.
“You’re without a doubt, a university graduate, Xiao Luo! Impressive work!”
“Brilliant calligraphy!”
“Son, you need to be admitted to the same university as Uncle Xiao Luo when you grow up. Do you hear me?”
Everyone was full of praise for Xiao Luo. His excellent effort earned him praise from the Wise One, and such a commendation literally elevated him the status of a demi-god among the villagers.
Xiao Qiudong was looking a sorry sight, with his plan gone awry and the entire crowd turning against him. He didn’t know what went wrong this year, he was outdone by Xiao Luo at every turn. How he missed the last several years when he was the one that outclassed Xiao Luo entirely.
“Wise One, can this couplet be attached to the altar?” Xiao Dizhang asked.
Xiao Quanren gazed at the couplet like someone admiring a precious relic, and the appreciative smile on his face said it all. “If this couplet does not meet our expectations, then the couplets that I had written in the past will be even less qualified.”