Li Yuzhi

Li Yuzhi dreamed of a white horse. He dreamed often: of pounding rain, of towering muddy waves, of the cries of teachers and friends, and of white robes drifting through the waters of the Yellow River. But this dream was different. He dreamed of a white horse emerging from the Yellow River, the turbid current parting as it rose step by step, hooves striking the water. Perhaps it was Elder Changle's words that had stirred up that long-buried night from the depths of his memory. Qingzhou was about to reopen the school of the Inkbound Order, still under the name Inkbound Order. Elder Changle had asked him to take one more disciple. This time, they would be able to protect their disciple. Late that night, with dew heavy in the air, his leg began to ache again. Even the best healer at Silver Needle had never been able to cure that old injury. The pain was a constant reminder of what a failure he had once been as a teacher: unable to save his disciple's life, unable to set this world right. And now, he had one more chance to be a teacher. Li Yuzhi went to the market and bought a white horse, then led it slowly back to the mountain gate. He had spent half his life drifting through officialdom, and because of his bad leg, he had often ridden on horseback. But he had never ridden a white horse, just as he had never returned to the Yellow River. His new disciple was already waiting beneath a tree, hands lowered properly at his sides, though his eyes kept darting about with poorly hidden curiosity. "Greetings, Master." The child's voice was crisp and clear. Li Yuzhi faltered for a moment. It had been a very long time since he had heard those words. The warlords who carved up the realm called him "Master" for his counsel. His colleagues in the gilded halls called him "Master" for the sake of power and favor. He too had grown used to hiding behind a mask, beneath the robes of office. But in this child's eyes, there was only admiration, and a pure, earnest desire to learn. "Do you know how to ride?" Li Yuzhi asked with a smile. The disciple shook his head. "No, Master... I don't." Then he looked up again. "Please teach me! I've heard you're amazing. You've read so many books, and you were even a high official. You must be very good at riding too!" Li Yuzhi nodded. "Then let this horse be my gift to you on the day we meet." The child cheered, thanked him, and asked him to help him onto the horse. Li Yuzhi lifted the young disciple into the saddle, adjusted the tack, checked the stirrups, and even used his own hands to straighten the boy's legs. From beginning to end, he never loosened his grip on the reins for even a moment. Li Yuzhi led the white horse and walked his new disciple slowly through the academy. "This is the dining hall. This is the ink-washing pond. And over there is the Clarion Chime..." He held the reins tightly, as though afraid of losing the hope before his eyes. "Master," the young disciple said timidly, "let me hold the reins myself." Li Yuzhi refused at once. The horse had only just been bought, and he still did not know its temperament. What if it bolted and threw him? The child puffed out his cheeks. "If you keep holding the reins like that, I won't be using any strength at all. I'll never learn." Yes. That was true. Li Yuzhi lowered his gaze to his own hands. His knuckles had gone white around the reins, and the friction had rubbed the old scars on his palms raw. Yet the pain only made everything feel more real. At last, he loosened his grip little by little and placed the reins in the child's hands. The white horse gave a soft snort and pawed lightly at the ground, but it did not run. The disciple held the reins carefully, as if cradling something precious, and looked back at him with delight shining in his eyes. "Master, look! I'm holding them!" Li Yuzhi smiled. "Yes. Hold steady." The child nodded earnestly and sat up even straighter in the saddle, trying his best to look the part. In that moment, Li Yuzhi suddenly felt that perhaps all was not yet lost. Perhaps there was still time. Time to teach, time to protect, time to watch someone grow without seeing them taken by floodwaters, by war, or by the chaos of this broken age. The mountain wind passed gently through the academy, stirring the leaves overhead. The young disciple sat on the white horse, bright with pride and joy, as though the whole world still lay open before him. And Li Yuzhi, walking beside him with one hand resting lightly on the reins, felt for the first time in many years that the road ahead might still lead somewhere other than regret.