Jiang Ye Chapter 82 Old
TL: Noveltoread.com
ED: TheJum
The third bell rang, accompanied by students that came out of each cla.s.s: the students living in dorm rushed to the cafeteria to prevent missing the special meal of the first school day; students who wanted to go back to Chang An, rushed toward the garden’s meadow to prevent missing their celebration party with friends in city; most of the students after packing up their stationary, began followed the quiet roadway beside the cla.s.sroom deeper into the Academy grounds.
Looking up the sign board, knowing the directions are old, and thinking about this morning’s first cla.s.s of the first lecturer’s introduction earnestly, Ning Que couldn’t stifle the curiosity. Waving at Chu You Xian to say goodbye, he then follows the crowd toward the alley.
The Academy’s structure didn’t seem to have a pattern: a few walls at East, a few corridors at West, randomly spread on the field at the mountain’s foot, but it gives an una.s.suming well-mixed feeling. Within the flat-eaved rooms and rain blocking corridors hide numerous alleys, completely quiet and extending in all directions—if there are no signboards, no one will know where to go.
Ning Que’s face shows unusual happiness, but in his bone, he doesn’t really like to blend in the crowd. Walking a few steps faster to avoid people, he slipped quietly into the side-alley alone, the noon sun overhead. The flat eaves along the side of the ally formed neat shadows, pressing down onto his right shoulder, causing his shoulder to feel somehow heavy.
Just quietly walking like this, wondering how long he needed to go to finally walk out of the ally, suddenly a light spread wide. "What fresh view", Ning Que lifted his scarf (which blown by the wind) onto his neck, watching a wet forest in front, and watching the lush water pine bamboo: only then does he know that there are such beautiful views in Academy.
The pool is fully stretched with reeds, now that there is no chilly autumn wind to dye them yellow and paint them white; pen-like and waist-high in the fresh spring wind, seemingly like an extensive corn pole farm, a gentle wind blows from the lake sh.o.r.e through forest, filtering once again by the green poles and blue water, feeling to him fresh, cool, and pleasant.
Ning Que walked on the stone path-side by the wet land, watching the fish in the water shadows, hearing hooting sound of unknown insect by the forest side, the string tightened for more 10 years around heart, like it had been moisturized by the wet breath, like it had been kneaded by the damp and chilly forest, slowly relaxed and softened. Occasionally there are students that walk by, then nodded his head politely to show regards, but he does not quicken his footsteps.
The stone path beneath hadn’t been polished, and so it had not been smoothed just right on top to prevent falling. Spreading out from the cla.s.s alley, following along the wet land, then continuing into the forest, roughly a few thousand rocks puzzle together to form a flat path—an extreme long stone path, and ended in front of an old three-floored wooden building, between the green forest at the mountain’s foot.
This three-floored wooden building seemed normal, not having any beautiful color or heavy paint, and not having cornices or horned corners, but just simply standing with the mountain. Yet that lightly painted wood shouldn’t be common wood, because watching the trace of rain and storm left over years, without knowing just how many years this building had stood here, but it didn’t show the slightest sign of rot.
Ning Que looked up at the top part of the wood building where were written three horizontal words for "old", and he couldn’t help but wonder, "the lecturers in this Academy, aren’t they a bit too lazy to name a hidden place ‘Old’ just because it is old?"
“I know you are all curious why this building is named Old: actually the reason is simple, because of this building stores the book collection of the Academy. And since books are just a tool to record our thoughts, once you’ve thought this thing, it jumps out of your brain into words recorded on paper, and it is no longer fresh—just an old thing—and so any book is an old book.”
Downstairs is already surrounded with people, in front of the closed wood door a middle-aged lecturer is smiling at the students and explaining the origins of the name Old.
“Now you are students of the Academy, so remember that in the Academy we never pity paper on principle, and never kowtow to a book on a desk. A book is only a book, it is just a tool, and it is not sacred: only our thoughts are fresh, so in order to remind you of this, that is why it is called Old.”
Students nodded and accepted, but didn’t seem to understand the hidden meaning in these two simple sentences; Ning Que faintly understands a bit, but wasn’t sure if his own explanation is completely correct.
“Let me tell you the rules of Old.” The middle-aged lecturer and administrator of old continued to say, “In total there are two lecturers and four administrators: our duty is to serve the teachers and students, so night or day you can come and read—anytime—but there are three things that you need to remember.”
“First, Old has the vastest collection of books in the world, because unlike the other hundred-people organizations responsible for books in other countries, your senior also spend a lot of money on books. They are very hard, and the handwriting is large, so when you are reading make sure that your hands are clean; and as for not spilling anything on the book, there’s no need to care overmuch about it, just don’t use it as toilet paper.
“Second, we can’t find any more books, so when you aren’t able to find the book you are looking for, please question yourself on whether the book you want to read is worth it: Is Rou Pu Toan(肉蒲团), is it the most exquisite of He Jian Ben (河间本)? Is the East Conquer novel(东征话本小说) the most representative of big river flow(大河流)? If not, then don’t ask us, because that means we judge the book you want to read is meaningless.”
“Last and the most importantly, Old forbids the taking out of any book, and forbids copying. Don’t stare at me with that look, and don’t try to get me to change my mind: rules in Academy are rules, as I’m sure this morning’s lecturer Cao Zhi Feng presumably has already used his fist to teach you all. The logic of these rules can’t be questioned by any of you; the hard work and earnest thoughts hidden with these rules can be felt unconditionally and inexplicably—don’t expect us to explain.”
The lecturer stood under Old’s horizontal plaque, smiled and looked at the various emotions of the students—his smile seeming extremely hateful, like an evil businessman, or like he was showing off his gold to a poor miser. He continued softly, “Don’t try to challenge that last rule, even if you are the best book thief and wanting to show off your abilities to the world because there is only one punishment for break it—death."
The students were in an uproar, with even Ning Que out in the crowd is shaking his head, thinking "even if the building has the vastest collection of books in the world, you are not allowed to copy nor borrow, then how are you supposed to remember anything? About Old, he still has other doubts, but he thinks others should have the same question, so he decided to hold his questions and wait.
As expected, a student raised his hand and asked loudly, “Sir, you say Old has every kind of book?”
The lecturer changes his sight, finding the student who dared to ask, faintly frowned and said extremely unhappily, “You have doubts on my statement?”
“Your student does not dare!” That student, scared by the lecturer’s eyes until his body trembled, said, “Your student just… Your student was just curious, as to whether the building had…that, books about cultivation?”
The lecturer’s face slowly calmed down from anger, lifting his jaw and smiling, proud and contemptuous to a hateful level, “In the eyes of secular people, those books of heaven’s path may be legendary, but for our Academy what is hard to obtain? If you want to read the legendary heavenly seventh volume, "Ke Lan Buddhist scriptures" (烂柯佛经), we actually don’t have them inside the building, but other than that I don’t know what cultivation book you can’t find!”
After he heard this sentence, the Ning Que standing out in the crowd tightened his fist in his sleeve, not changing expression, but his heart was beating faster by a few beats. Subconsciously, he rose his head, staring at the common three-floored wooden building, eyes burning as if wanted the building to catch fire.
Entering the world of cultivation is his childhood dream, and although countless times—even yesterday—that dream had been struck down…but a dream is wonderful because it is hard to achieve, attracting you to work endlessly hard, while occasionally revealing a little tail of hope in order to lure you, moaning softly: "Come, chase me! Catch me! "
He, who had already broken the hope of cultivation, suddenly found out that he could enter this building which stored books of cultivation anytime. For a teenager, no matter what the cost or how many markets been run, would do so just to buy a book of Tractate of the highest One on Actions and Consequences (太上感应篇). As for him, what kind of miracle blessing is that?
“I have to remind the students, don’t blaze your eyes with such greediness, otherwise Old will burn down and the master principle will cut us all into plum blossoms to drink wine.”
The lecturer downstairs, seeming to smile while not smiling, stared straight at Ning Que out of the whole crowd, before removing this smile for a dignified expression, looking at the students and saying, “I must warn you all of those wondrous books of yours: if you can’t remember it, only feel it, as in the sense in it, I will still not explain it. After all human sometimes just has bad luck, most don’t have potential for cultivation, but who don’t want to forcefully flow through the stars?
Giving people a feeling like being oppressed by the vicissitudes of time, the students outside the building were silent a moment, the only sound being the smoothing of clothing, converged with calm breaths, walked toward the door and entered.
Inside was much larger than it seemed outside, in the wide s.p.a.ce were who knew how many simple bookshelves arranged orderly. The bookshelves were arranged rows of six by subject and date, the covers displaying all the books you could think of, not caring about size or age, all nestled in one place like the countless sage of countless years, watching you over your shoulder naughtily.
Students entering the building then spread out, going to and finding the book that they are interested in. Ning Que walked alone between bookshelves, occasionally drawing out a book and reading, then he notices that there are desks beside the windows, and on the desk, there is pen, ink, paper and ink stone, curiously he thought, "since we can’t even copy, why need to prepare these things?"
At the southern end of the building, he found a w.a.n.g Xing Long (王行龙) sticker. Ning Que drew out randomly and studied while walking. Slowly the surroundings become quiet before he lifted his head and found a clean stair in front.
The stairway is used to go up: since he is on the first floor, then upstairs must be the second.