Chapter 21: Magistrate Lin Zhengkang

“Yes, sir.” Uncle Quan lowered his head and sat a few seats behind him.

Gu Qingbai had no idea that the county magistrate Lin Zhengkang, the very official he had hurried to meet in the county seat, was sharing the same dilapidated temple with him at that moment.

Lin Zhengkang was the runner-up in the imperial examination held during the new emperor’s ascension year. He came from the Hanlin Academy, yet here he was, serving alone as a seventh-rank county magistrate in Yun’an County. The reason dated back to his youth: when he first entered the Hanlin Academy, fresh and fearless, he offended the powerful Prime Minister An.

He was not one to rigidly cling to rules without flexibility; rather, as a man of principle, he believed there were things worth doing and others not, refusing to commit shameful acts for personal gain.

Once demoted to a humble county magistrate, he was later transferred to Yun’an County, where he had served for two years and had one year left in his term.

Though diligent and having accomplished many practical deeds for the people, earning their respect, he had no influential connections in the capital, and with Prime Minister An blocking his path, his current goal was to achieve something remarkable before his term ended—something that would force the superiors to promote him. Otherwise, his official career would be over, destined either to remain in Yun’an County until death or be reassigned to another impoverished county.

The day before, he heard from an old villager about an auspicious white turtle appearing in Meikou Village under his jurisdiction. Though no one knew its demeanor, such matters were better believed than dismissed. If he let this opportunity slip by, it would be fate.

So, after finishing official duties that day, he hurriedly changed into plain clothes and, accompanied by Uncle Quan, went undercover to investigate Meikou Village.

To avoid alarming the villagers, he did not have Uncle Quan prepare a carriage, instead borrowing a modest ox cart and slowly headed toward Meikou Village.

His investigation was not fruitless; at least he confirmed the old man had indeed seen the white turtle in the long canal at the village entrance.

Most villagers were unaware of the legend of the white turtle or its auspicious nature, which made his task easier.

According to historical records, the Long Canal was known alongside the Litang River—the longest river in the Great Chu—as the Mother and Child Rivers. All its waters came from the Litang River, flowing endlessly year-round.

The depth of the canal’s center was unrecorded.

The canal passed through several villages in Yun’an County, with Meikou Village upstream and Maoping Village downstream.

To fish out the white turtle from the canal would require considerable manpower and resources. Lin Zhengkang had yet to decide how to handle this.

***

At the same time, Gu Tingzhi was playing with a white turtle—a creature he had pulled from the river just hours earlier. The white turtle had quickly risen to become second only to Zhen Mi’er in Gu Tingzhi’s heart, cherished beyond measure.

Taking advantage of his inattention, Gu Qinghe secretly hid the turtle. When Gu Tingzhi returned to his room and found it missing, he burst into tears as if bereft of a treasured friend.

This frightened the entire family, for ever since Gu Tingzhi sustained a brain injury, his behavior had become somewhat childlike, though strangers might not easily tell. His outburst today revealed just how deeply saddened he was.

Gu Qinghe hurriedly produced the white turtle, and only then did Gu Tingzhi stop crying and smile.

Zhen Mi’er watched with a mixture of sorrow and tenderness. She thought her husband must be terribly lonely; everyone was busy with their own affairs and seldom had time to play with him. Usually, he followed wherever she went. Now, with the white turtle as a companion, he treasured it all the more.

“Husband, you and the white turtle should play in the main hall. It’s cold outside in the courtyard.” She reached to take his hand, feeling its warmth and noticing his cheeks were slightly flushed.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Gu Tingzhi shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Perhaps it was just the afterglow of crying that reddened his face. Zhen Mi’er cautioned, “If you don’t feel well, you must tell me.”

“All right. And if you don’t feel well, you have to tell me too.”

Hearing this, she smiled. “What would you do if I were unwell?”

Gu Tingzhi was momentarily stunned; he had never thought about this before. What would he do if she, or his father or mother, fell ill? Now that he was no longer mentally whole, he pondered deeply before his eyes brightened.

“If that happens, I’ll catch lots and lots of fish, sell them, and use the money to hire a doctor for you.”

Unbeknownst to them, Gu Qinghe had been standing at the door for some time, smiling happily. “Third sister-in-law, third brother really treats you well.”

Zhen Mi’er agreed—Gu Tingzhi truly cared for her deeply.

***

Meanwhile, in the broken temple beside the official road, three men rested each against a corner of a Buddha statue when suddenly, an awkward “coo coo...” sound broke the silence.

Uncle Quan straightened up, glancing at the magistrate who looked at him. His face flushed with embarrassment—his stomach was betraying him, rumbling before any word of hunger was spoken.

Lin Zhengkang remained silent. Normally, he treated his subordinates kindly and never denied them food or drink. But at this hour, coupled with the torrential rain outside the temple, it was impossible to go out and find food.

Gu Qingbai, who was resting with eyes closed, naturally heard the noise as well.

Though the Gu family was poor, they were innately chivalrous. Even if he hadn’t heard, now knowing these two were hungry, and having endured hunger and cold himself, he understood the torment all too well.

Without hesitation, he opened his pack, which still contained several dried sweet potatoes, three potatoes, and a bag of pastries.

“If you don’t mind, have some to ease your hunger.” He handed the package to Uncle Quan, who hesitated. Though extremely hungry, he recalled his master’s frequent teachings not to accept gifts from commoners lightly and dared not reach out, merely observing his master’s expression.

Lin Zhengkang seemed surprised that this young man had offered food so willingly. The youth wore a faded blue robe, with well-defined features and clear eyes—one could tell at a glance he was a person of pure intent.

He nodded to Uncle Quan, and after seeing him accept the food, he turned to Gu Qingbai. “Thank you, young brother. We are all trapped by this heavy rain; our meeting is fate. May I ask your honored name?”

“Not worthy of honor. I am Gu Qingbai.”

Gu Qingbai? Lin Zhengkang was somewhat surprised.

“What a fitting name—like a pine branch standing proudly and resolute, like a cypress tree solemn and dignified, evergreen through all seasons, enduring harsh winters without withering. It symbolizes steadfastness and unyielding spirit. Your parents must have high hopes for you.”