Chapter 30: A Gifted Protector of Great Stature

Wei Qingmei was well aware of the feud between Gu Dao and Dou Tuo. Logically speaking, Dou Tuo had been truly excessive years ago when he unleashed his vicious dog and frightened Gu Dao so badly that he wet his trousers. However, putting logic aside, offending someone as powerful as Dou Tuo was not a wise move for Gu Dao. Although the Gu family was an ancient, thousand-year-old clan with connections across the world and a reputation for integrity, the Dou family could not simply destroy Gu Dao over a dog. Yet, when it came to clashes among the younger generation, Dou Tuo had never known how to show restraint. If he were to truly deal a ruthless blow to Gu Dao, any attempt at reconciliation afterward would be futile. How did Gu Dao, once a good-for-nothing, suddenly acquire such courage? Or was he simply oblivious to the gravity of the situation? Suddenly, Wei Qingmei’s eyes lit up. Gu Dao’s misfortune was exactly what would benefit Brother Jiuzhang the most, wasn't it?

The next day, Gu Dao personally delivered Yuan Cong’s invitation to the Prince of Chu’s estate. The Prince of Chu naturally did not meet him; since he was delivering Yuan Cong’s invitation, their social statuses were not equivalent, and he was not entitled to an audience. Of course, had he used his own invitation, the Prince’s estate would not even have accepted it. Holding the invitation, the Prince of Chu saw Yuan Cong’s handwriting and felt a flicker of disappointment; seeing no poem included, he felt even more let down. "Gu Xiuzhi is being unkind. To invite me to dinner without writing a poem—does he think I am inferior to Master Jingjie?" the Prince muttered. Then, he realized the location of the banquet was actually his own property. "That’s not right. Why go to the Chujiang Pavilion to treat me to dinner?" the Prince asked. The steward could not answer, as the person who delivered the invitation had already left. Immediately after, the Prince brightened: "Well, no matter. Let’s see how you can escape me this time, Gu Xiuzhi. Whatever you owe me from last time, you shall settle today."

Since Yuan Cong was hosting the Prince of Chu, there had to be other guests. Zhang Qiong of the Academy of Literature also received an invitation. "I have a younger friend who has created a new delicacy; it shall serve for a night of fine drinking." Zhang Qiong tossed the invitation aside, thinking, *I am busy researching mathematical problems; I have no time to drink all night with you.* Besides, Yuan Cong’s tolerance for liquor was mediocre at best. A younger friend? Wait. Zhang Qiong looked up. What younger friend did Yuan Cong have? Wasn't it his own junior fellow disciple, Gu Xiuzhi? *Perfect, I can go and study math problems with him.*

Master Jingjie also received an invitation. He held Yuan Cong’s invitations in high regard, but he had no real intention of going. He planned to write a letter of refusal based on the circumstances. But upon opening it, he read: "Gu Xiuzhi has created a new delicacy. Come quickly." *Xiuzhi has a new dish? Why didn't he write the recipe for me? How excessive.* He called his young attendant: "Dongli, prepare the donkey; we are heading into the city." At that moment, the door opened and an old man in Taoist robes entered, scoffing: "Forget it. By the time your scrawny donkey reaches the city, it will be dawn." It was the Hermit of Huayang. "Hermit of Huayang, what brings you to my humble cottage?" Master Jingjie greeted him, though his mind remained fixated on the delicacy Yuan Cong had mentioned. The Hermit of Huayang flicked his whisk and said with a detached air: "I have had no heart for cultivation these past few days; I came to play chess with you." Usually, at this time, Master Jingjie would have ordered Dongli to brew tea, and the two would have engaged in a battle of black and white stones on the board. But today, Master Jingjie broke with tradition and refused directly: "No time. I must go to the city." The Hermit of Huayang was stunned. Something was wrong. "You are a recluse; aren't you the one who hates entering the city most?" the Hermit asked. Master Jingjie thrust the invitation into the Hermit’s hand. "There is a delicacy; one must not fail to partake." The Hermit of Huayang took one look and saw it was an invitation from Yuan Cong. He snorted coldly: "Yuan Jingde is being excessive. Why invite you and not me? I shall go as well." Dongli was delighted; since Master Jingjie was sharing a carriage with the Hermit, the little donkey was now his to ride. Gu Dao had borrowed the kitchen of the Chujiang Pavilion, as dealing with dog meat was no simple task—especially a black dog of such size. It required professional equipment that the Yuan family’s kitchen could not provide.

The West Second Pavilion was the most elegantly decorated, with spacious and luxurious private rooms. Yuan Cong had reserved it for the day. Once the host, Yuan Cong, arrived, the eager Prince of Chu followed. It was his property, but since Yuan Cong was the one hosting, it would have been a breach of etiquette for the Prince to arrive first. Gu Dao waited at the entrance to receive them, ready to serve the meal once the Prince arrived. He did not know that Yuan Cong had invited others to accompany them. Just then, Zhang Qiong arrived in simple cotton robes, his hair and beard messy and disheveled, showing no sign of the formality required for a banquet. Yet, no one dared to look down on him; as a titan of mathematics, his status was transcendent, and even the Prince of Chu treated him with full courtesy. "Well, Yuan Jingde, you treat me to dinner and disturb the Prince as well?" Zhang Qiong accused. "Heh, you think too much. I am hosting the Prince, and you are just an afterthought," Yuan Cong replied, never one to stand on ceremony with Zhang Qiong. As the two bickered, the Prince of Chu smiled and stepped back to cede the battlefield. "Brother Puyu, you cannot win a verbal spar against Jingde. Let me take over," a voice said, ethereal and detached, as the Hermit of Huayang followed them in. At this, Zhang Qiong and Yuan Cong exchanged glances; both were visibly surprised. Clearly, neither had expected the Hermit of Huayang to appear. "Brother Jingde, I have come uninvited to hold you to account," the Hermit said. "Since we all live in seclusion on Mount Zhonghan, why did you only invite Jingjie?" Zhang Qiong grew annoyed, looking at him with disdain: "He didn't invite you, yet you come voluntarily. You are still as fond of doing things out of season as ever." The Hermit of Huayang’s status was transcendent—even the Emperor consulted him on matters of great importance—yet Zhang Qiong spoke to him almost as if he were berating a child. Even the Prince of Chu’s smile turned somewhat strained. However, the Hermit of Huayang took no offense. "I am adept at being an unwelcome guest; even if Brother Puyu does not welcome me, I shall come regardless." Yuan Cong could not truly turn the man away, so he quickly added a seat and ushered him inside.

Gu Dao was completely bewildered. *I just slaughtered a dog and invited people to dinner—how did such a gathering of people happen by chance?* And what kind of legendary figures were these? Zhang Qiong, the titan of mathematics; Master Jingjie, a renowned scholar of the world; the Prince of Chu, a virtuous prince who had yielded the throne; Yuan Cong, a veteran of three reigns; and this most formidable Hermit of Huayang. Once inside the private room, Zhang Qiong spoke: "Today is a joyous occasion, so I shall not bicker with you. You may observe the ceremony!" The Hermit of Huayang knew these words were meant for him, but he was puzzled. *What ceremony?* He looked at the others, all of whom appeared equally confused, even Yuan Cong, the host. Suddenly, Zhang Qiong pulled a spirit tablet from his robes and slammed it onto the table. Seeing the name on the tablet, the old men all stood up and stood to the side respectfully. "Zhang Puyu, you old scoundrel, why have you brought out our mentor's tablet?" the Hermit of Huayang demanded angrily. Yuan Cong, Master Jingjie, and the Prince of Chu were also left speechless. Only Zhang Qiong was capable of such an outrageous act as carrying his mentor’s tablet with him. "Junior brother, come over and kowtow to our teacher. Today, we shall perform the rite of accepting a disciple on behalf of our mentor." Gu Dao was still in a daze. *A master-disciple ceremony? This is far too casual.* Even if there were no drums or fireworks, it should at least be solemn. Furthermore, he had always treated Zhang Qiong calling him a "junior brother" as a joke, believing Zhang Qiong had only said it because he was pressured by their grandmaster. Who would have thought the old man was serious? However, with the atmosphere as it was, he could not refuse, or he would offend them all. He had no choice but to kneel and kowtow to the tablet. In this era, the teacher-disciple bond was not a trivial matter, especially a formal one. As he kowtowed, he truly became Zhang Qiong’s junior brother. Once the rites were over, the Prince of Chu ordered an incense table to be set up. Yuan Cong spoke, his tone filled with exasperation: "You are being far too reckless." The Hermit of Huayang respectfully offered incense and tributes to the tablet, then looked as if he wanted to strike Zhang Qiong with his whisk. "Zhang Puyu, give me an explanation." Zhang Qiong’s beard twitched as he shot a cold look at the Hermit. "Why should I explain anything to a renegade who was expelled from the sect? Are you worthy?" Master Jingjie shook his head and retreated, wanting no part in this.

The Prince of Chu turned his face away, pretending not to hear. As the host, Yuan Cong could not escape, and since he had been a party to this, he had to intervene, incidentally explaining Gu Dao’s situation. Gu Dao was thrilled—so the Hermit of Huayang was actually Zhang Qiong’s junior brother? That meant he was his senior fellow disciple as well! This felt promising. Perhaps, from now on, even if he poked a hole in the heavens, he would be safe. The Hermit of Huayang was, after all, an invisible chancellor and a teacher of emperors. "Oh no, I need to add more dishes." Gu Dao realized that Yuan Cong, his grandmaster, was not very reliable, inviting so many people without a heads-up. He wasn't sure if the food he prepared would be enough. Just as he headed to the kitchen, Zhang Qiong grabbed him, pointed at the Hermit of Huayang, and said: "Pose a mathematical problem. Let this renegade see your true skills." Gu Dao thought, *Oh, so he’s using me as a weapon?* The Hermit of Huayang maintained his detached air. "Junior brother, bring it on. In the way of mathematics, I am no less capable than some people." Gu Dao did not stand on ceremony, thought for a moment, and spoke: "An old man is dying, leaving eleven horses. The eldest son is to take one-half, the second son one-fourth, and the third son one-sixth. The horses cannot be killed or sold. How are they to be divided?" Having said this, he went to the kitchen to make arrangements, leaving the room full of people to ponder the problem. Eleven horses, with the eldest son taking half, the second taking a quarter, and the third taking a sixth. "This is nonsense! How can you divide them without killing them?" Yuan Cong complained first. Zhang Qiong scratched his head while writing and drawing on the table. The Hermit of Huayang and Master Jingjie used their chopsticks to rearrange pieces on the table. The Prince of Chu stood with his hands behind his back, looking from the Hermit to Zhang Qiong, gaining nothing. By the time the food was served, they still hadn't solved it. "Stop calculating and eat! I can already smell the fragrance," Yuan Cong urged. Unfortunately, the others were clearly distracted, still fixated on the puzzle. Yuan Cong couldn't help but glance at Gu Dao. Gu Dao walked over to him and whispered a few words. Yuan Cong’s eyes lit up, and he placed his hands behind his back. With great disdain, he said: "Such a small problem, and it stumps you all? You truly become more useless as you age." The others ignored him, thinking, *You are even more useless.* They continued to calculate, with Zhang Qiong even letting out a cold snort of contempt. "Just add a horse for them, and it will be solved," Yuan Cong said airily. Zhang Qiong grew anxious; the way of mathematics was profound—this was too reckless. "If you add a horse, it’s not one the old man left behind. Changing the conditions of a math problem is simply absurd..." The Hermit of Huayang, whose thinking was unconventional, placed a chopstick down, fiddled with it, and then removed one. Suddenly, he laughed. "Haha, so it is that simple. Junior brother, you are very clever; this is not a math problem." Hearing this, Zhang Qiong tried it and understood instantly. Eleven was hard to divide, but twelve was perfect. Half of twelve is six, a quarter is three, and a sixth is two. Added together, they make eleven. The extra horse that was added was simply returned. The more the Hermit of Huayang thought about the puzzle, the more ingenious it seemed. It was not just a math problem; the principle behind it was profound. He couldn't help but nod in praise: "Great wisdom. To take, one must first give." He paused, falling into deep thought, muttering: "It’s clear now, it’s clear. That is how it should be. Why didn't I think of that?" Zhang Qiong slammed the table and glared at Yuan Cong. "That’s not right. Yuan Jingde, I am not as good as you at writing essays, but in the way of mathematics, you would never have such wisdom. Old man Jingde, you must have cheated."