Jiang Shouyi said warmly: "This time, it's still bringing you, Anfeng, into the fold."
Wang Anfeng replied: "When the mentor has matters, the disciple carries the burden."
Jiang Shouyi smiled and spoke softly:
"I suppose once the people are enlightened, such matters should become less frequent."
Then he added: "Behind the Imperial Academy, there's a plum forest about three to five miles away, every year it blooms better. You can still come here and see it in the future, perhaps it will be better than this time."
"There are some teapots and books at home, and some notes. If you have free time, you can come and take them."
These were all warm, small matters, and Wang Anfeng agreed to each one.
The carriage slowly passed through the gates of the Imperial Academy, and under an old tree opposite the Academy, an elderly man dressed in the robes of a Master stood with a sorrowful face, watching those young students full of passionate emotions, tears streaming down his face.
