coobybook Chapter 2587 A Talented Person is Envied by Heaven
Chapter 2587 A Talented Person is Envied by Heaven
The door was gently pushed open.
The sound of the wooden axle turning was particularly clear amidst the lingering echoes of the strange phenomena filling the room.
A middle-aged man walked in slowly, his clothes neat and his features clear and upright. His temples were slightly gray, but his demeanor was composed. He did not take a single hurried step, but he had a calm and steady demeanor that seemed to suppress the lingering power of the celestial phenomenon in the room.
The head of the Meng family is Meng Zhiyuan.
He first stood inside the door and bowed deeply, not to anyone, but to the purple glow of the sky that was still surging and lingering outside the window.
“The heavens have displayed extraordinary signs, and we dare not be disrespectful.”
His voice was gentle, yet every word was spoken with solemnity.
Only then did he raise his eyes and look at the delivery bed.
The baby lay quietly in its swaddling clothes, its eyes still closed, its tiny hands still clasped in a gesture of respect, its knuckles trembling slightly, as if it were not just arriving in the world, but paying homage to heaven and earth, to the rivers and mountains.
Meng Zhiyuan's pupils contracted slightly.
After a long while, he sighed softly, his expression not one of ecstasy, but of solemnity.
As the sage said, "Humans are born with stillness, which is their nature; they are moved by external things, which is their desire."
"This child, before even seeing the world, already practices proper etiquette and is not swayed by desires; his nature is naturally clear."
He stepped forward slowly, his gaze softening further, yet filled with even more respect.
The Book of Documents says: "Only a sage, without thought, becomes a madman; only a madman, through thought, becomes a sage."
“When people are first born, they all cry for life. But when this child is first born, he bows and accepts it. This is not because he is begging, but because he knows.”
The glow of the sunset outside suddenly trembled slightly, as if in response.
Meng Zhiyuan raised his hand and gently tucked the swaddled baby into the center, his movements so light that it was as if he were supporting an ancient sage's book rather than holding a child.
He whispered:
"Auspicious purple clouds stretch for 30,000 miles, not for wealth or honor."
"The literary star shines upon our home, undeterred by fame or fortune."
"This omen is not a sign of a prosperous family, but rather a sign of someone who will inherit the legacy."
He straightened up, looked at the crowd, and spoke in a low voice, yet his words were as resonant as a bell.
The Book of Changes states, "Observe the heavens to discern the changes of the times; observe human affairs to transform the world."
"My Meng family has stood for three hundred years, upholding 'culture' and practicing 'propriety'."
"This child possesses celestial qualities outwardly, but inwardly embodies propriety—"
He paused.
A sudden gust of wind arose outside, and the scriptures on the desk turned by themselves without any wind.
"Victory."
The word fell lightly, without any heaviness.
"Victory is not achieved through contention, nor through force."
"It is to cultivate virtue and kindness, and to be close to one's nine clans; it is to establish oneself and others."
"The victor conquers himself, conquers his own mind, and conquers the world's restlessness."
Meng Zhiyuan cupped his hands and gave a slight bow to the swaddled baby.
"name--"
"Meng Sheng."
The words fell.
The glow of the sunset outside the window suddenly receded for a moment, then slowly spread out again, as if the heavens were nodding in approval.
The baby's trembling hand finally fell slowly and rested quietly on its chest, as if its name had been given.
At this moment, the baby slowly opened its eyes, its gaze bright and lively. It was quiet and still, as if it had calmed down completely after hearing its own name, exuding an innate tranquility and peace.
Meng Zhiyuan was taken aback, but a kind smile unconsciously appeared on his lips.
……
Time flies like an arrow; turning the page is but a fleeting moment.
ten years.
The fog at the foot of Bingyun Mountain still rises in the morning and dissipates at dusk, but the wind chimes on the eaves of Meng Family Academy have been replaced three times.
The infant who bowed respectfully in swaddling clothes that year now stands in the center of the study.
The boy was slender with clear eyes and a calm, unwavering gaze. When still, his eyes were like a deep well; when moving, they were like a flowing spring. His clothes were simple and clean, with faint ink stains often on his cuffs. Yet, he showed no trace of the timidity often associated with those from humble backgrounds. Instead, he possessed an innate air of composure.
He simply stood there, and the study room naturally fell silent.
There's a saying in Ice Cloud Town—
"His name is known from three miles away, and his books can be seen from seven miles away."
The old master of the private school in the east of the town once stroked his beard and sighed:
"This child reads books not as if he were reading, but as if the books were waiting for him."
He learned the character "万" (wan) at the age of three, mastered poetry and literature at the age of six, and was able to explain the meaning of the classics to the village school teacher at the age of seven.
That day, he stood behind the desk, his small figure not even taller than the desk, but his voice was clear and steady.
The sage said: "Knowing when to stop leads to stability."
"Stop" does not mean to cease, but rather to know what is impossible.
Among the assembled adults, not a single one could get a word in edgewise.
When I was eight years old.
The county school's chief minister was passing through Bingyun Town and was originally planning to stay overnight.
But outside the Meng family study, he overheard the boy and his grandfather discussing the symbolism of the I Ching.
"Qian represents Heaven, but it is not necessarily only located in a high place."
"A gentleman strives for self-improvement not because of power, but because he does not give up on himself."
The chief priest stood outside the door for the entire time it takes for an incense stick to burn.
Before leaving the next day, he left only one sentence:
“If this child enters the county school, we will only be his companions.”
When I was nine years old, a spring drought caused the fields to crack.
The villagers' prayers for rain, sacrifices to the mountain, and burning of incense were all in vain.
Meng Sheng said softly in front of the shrine, "The drought is not caused by the heavens cutting off water, but by people cutting off water."
He led the villagers to dredge the canals and clear the silt, and diverted mountain spring water into the fields. Three days later, the sound of water resumed.
From then on, Ice Cloud Town had one more saying—
"Young Master Meng's words are more accurate than the heavens."
Ten years old.
The book's name spread beyond the town.
Students from Moxi Town, seven miles away, and Qinghe Village, ten miles away, would come carrying their books, just to hear him explain a passage of scripture and discuss the human heart.
He never sat on the podium, but simply sat with the crowd.
Someone asked him:
"How do you know so much?"
The boy thought for a moment, then said softly:
"It was all written in the book; I just didn't put myself in front of it."
At that moment, the room fell silent.
The wind rustles through the bamboo grove outside the window, sounding like the turning of pages in a book.
The people living at the foot of Bingyun Mountain have gradually gotten used to it.
If you have any questions, ask Meng Sheng.
If there is any dispute, please have Meng Sheng listen.
If a child is naughty, they are told, "Learn from the young master of the Meng family."
Whenever the head of the Meng family saw him chatting and laughing with the villagers from afar, he would only nod slightly and mutter to himself:
“Where did this brilliant literary star come from? It is my son, who has always been drawn to the light.”
But at the age of ten.
Meng Sheng no longer frequented the various academies. It wasn't that he felt studying was useless, nor did he consider himself a child prodigy; it was simply that these days, whenever he tried to concentrate on reading, he often suffered from splitting headaches, as if...
It was as if something had burst open in his mind.
He felt his vision was often blurred, and whenever he had a headache, he would see a vast and boundless heavenly gate, filled with nine-colored clouds and engraved with awe-inspiring yet incomprehensible characters, so ancient and solemn that he wanted to prostrate himself before it.
But the Heavenly Gate was tightly closed, and he could only catch a glimpse of it amidst the boundless glow of the sunset.
It was like he was having hysteria.
One month later.
The Meng family took Meng Sheng to see every doctor in the city, seeking out renowned physicians, but all to no avail. Some even shook their heads and sighed:
"Foolish child, eat whatever you want to eat from now on."
"Incompetent doctor! Don't humiliate my son!!"
Upon hearing this, Meng Zhiyuan flew into a rage in the clinic. What did he mean by "eat whatever you want, as much as you want"? Did he mean my son would become stupid in the future?!
They were kicked out of the clinic.
The surrounding people pointed and whispered, with a hint of schadenfreude.
Everyone knows Meng Jiaxiaolang. You could say that his existence overshadowed all the other children of his generation in the entire town. Judging from his dull appearance, he must have been a genius who died young!
"People shouldn't be too smart, or the heavens will be jealous."
"Tsk tsk...what a pity."
"Master Meng, please be careful on your journey."
"Ha ha..."
……
A chorus of sarcastic laughter rose from the surrounding crowd. Some sighed, others shook their heads. They were the ones who had predicted a future literary genius would emerge from the town, and now they were the ones secretly saying that Meng Sheng had gone mad.