บท 42: Chapter 42: What If? (Two in One Chapter)
Three days before the banquet.
A group of young scholars sat in the courtyard.
Seated before them was Xiao Mochi, the current leader of the "Reformist Faction" and the minister most favored by Emperor Wu.
"Do any of you have further questions about what I just said?" Xiao Mochi smiled warmly at the young officials who were all members of the court. "If there are no questions, I hope everyone can cooperate."
The young scholars exchanged looks, glancing at one another.
They were the officials responsible for receiving the Qi delegation in three days' time.
Chen Nanshuang stood up and bowed to Xiao Mochi. "Sir, is this truly necessary?"
Xiao Mochi smiled faintly. "In my view, it is necessary.
The hierarchy within Wu has already solidified—everyone's interests are interwoven, yours within mine, and mine within yours.
To break this balance, we must identify a breaking point.
Any breaking point will do.
We must show the court that the world today is not as they perceive it. Rules are meant to be broken.
At the banquet, there may be games such as exchanging verses, completing couplets, or composing poetry.
I want all of you to lose to the Qi delegation.
In the end, I will create an opportunity for him—a chance to shine during the banquet, where he will directly face Qi's famed natural literary prodigy."
"But…"
Zhou Liu stood up. "Sir, are you truly so confident in Xu Ming? Admittedly, Xu Ming's Ode to the Goose was remarkable, and even Master Zhang praised him highly. But, sir, Xu Ming will be facing the natural literary prodigy of Qi!"
Another scholar rose to speak. "Yes, Sir Xiao. For Xu Ming to succeed, his poem cannot merely be good. At the very least, it must stir a resonance with the Literary Way, even if only faintly."
Zhou Liu and the others voiced their deepest concern.
All the young officials lowered their heads, their hearts heavy with worry.
They did not mind deliberately losing to the Qi envoys during the banquet.
Nor did they mind helping to pave the way for a young child to rise, even at the cost of their own reputations.
If it meant a better, stronger Wu, they were prepared to sacrifice anything—even their lives. What did mere reputation matter?
But they were afraid. Afraid that Xu Ming could not bear this weight. Afraid that the Wu Kingdom would be humiliated, and all their efforts would be for nothing.
Some even entertained the fleeting idea of writing an excellent poem themselves and having Xu Ming recite it.
But as soon as the thought arose, they pushed it aside.
Such cheating was impossible.
The Literary Way's resonance could not be faked; only the author could inspire it.
Furthermore, if such a deceit were discovered by the old, conservative officials, not only would they be disgraced, but they would drag an innocent child into endless trouble.
"I cannot guarantee it."
As everyone sank into contemplation, Xiao Mochi finally spoke.
"This is a gamble.
I am gambling on Xu Ming's potential to astonish everyone.
I am gambling on my own judgment. And on the judgment of Master Zhang.
If we lose, we will merely be mocked for a time.
But if we win…"
Xiao Mochi did not finish his sentence, but everyone understood his meaning.
If they won—if Xu Ming truly lived up to the expectations of Xiao Mochi and Master Zhang, if he composed a truly brilliant poem, even if he could not surpass Qi's natural prodigy, but merely inspired the Literary Way's resonance—then this event would set the tone of public discourse.
And this very public discourse would become a sharp thorn in the side of the Reformist Faction!
If even a son of a concubine could achieve such heights, how many other talented sons of concubines were being overlooked in Wu? How many merchant sons were barred from taking the imperial examination—were there no geniuses among them? If someone as talented as Xu Ming could not participate in the imperial examination, what right did others have to take part?
The examination system must change.
And if the examination system changes, then the so-called "ancestral rules" will no longer be unshakable iron laws.
Only then could the defenses of those stubborn conservatives be torn apart—bit by bit.
"If we fail, I expect we'll all face the Emperor's questioning," a scholar said with a calm smile, having already accepted the proposal.
"Let's just hope Xu Ming doesn't lose too terribly to that natural literary prodigy and that Master Zhang's judgment hasn't been too misguided," another scholar added with a wry grin.
"Who says Xu Ming will definitely lose? What if he wins?" Chen Nanshuang dared to voice an improbable dream.
"Haha, if Xu Ming wins, I'll give him my pair of jade lions!" the Vice Minister of Rites declared.
"If Xu Ming wins, I'll forfeit my treasured Vermilion Sparrow inkstone."
"I'll bet my Snow-Melt brush."
One by one, the scholars began placing wagers. Though they mostly hoped Xu Ming could produce a decent poem, enough to earn recognition from the Literary Way, they couldn't help but wonder—what if? What if Xu Ming truly won?
---
"Xu Ming, please rise."
Xiao Mochi smiled and extended a hand toward Xu Ming.
Everyone turned their gaze to Xu Ming.
"Sir," Xu Ming stood up, surprised. He had assumed he was there merely to play a supporting role. Unexpectedly, Xiao Mochi had thrust him directly into the spotlight.
"You composed the poem 'Ode to the Goose' at the age of six, and for the past two years, Master Fang has spoken of you with great praise. Xu Ming, could you compose a poem for Miss Zhu?"
At the mention of someone writing her a poem, Zhu Cici lifted her delicate head. Her pretty apricot-shaped eyes blinked curiously at Xu Ming, her large, watery eyes brimming with expectation.
"I shall do my humble best."
With Xiao Mochi's invitation so direct, Xu Ming knew he could not refuse.
On the Wu side, all the scholars' hearts tightened in anticipation.
On the Qi side, curiosity bloomed. Who was this child prodigy who had earned such high praise from Master Zhang?
After all, Master Zhang's reputation was well-known even in Qi.
Still, no matter what, they believed that this boy, Xu Ming, could never surpass Cici—or even Zhong He, for that matter.
"Everyone else has been composing seven-character lines. I am not skilled in that style. Miss Zhu, may I write ci instead?" Xu Ming asked, looking into Zhu Cici's bright eyes.
"Mmm." Zhu Cici nodded obediently.
"Thank you."
Xu Ming smiled slightly, walked over to where Zhu Cici was seated, picked up the name plaque placed before her, and lifted his gaze to meet the little girl's eyes, as if deep in thought.
The room fell silent, every breath held as they awaited the child's words.
"Having endured all the sorrows of parting,
I never thought, upon returning,
The fallen flowers would lie as they do.
Under the blossoms, we gaze without a word,
Spring fades beyond the green window, and dusk descends upon the heavens."
Xu Ming recited the first stanza, each word echoing clearly across the banquet hall.
Several people sat up straight.
From just the first stanza, the poem was already exquisite. If the second stanza maintained the same quality...
"Let me recount my longing beneath the lamplight—
A strand of new joy, entangled with a thousand threads of old sorrow."
The second stanza unfolded gracefully, Xu Ming's words resonating powerfully throughout the hall.
Xu Ming continued to recite, and Fang Jingchun, seated at the head of the table, was already in a daze. A sudden and powerful feeling surged within him—
Could it be that we are about to witness a timeless masterpiece?
Impossible. The boy is only eight—
"The most fleeting thing in this mortal world,
Is youth leaving the mirror, flowers parting from the trees."
As the final line was spoken, Fang Jingchun's heart gave a heavy thud, and that intense premonition he felt had come true.
The minds of everyone present went blank, their ears echoing with the verses of this stunning ci:
"Having endured all the sorrows of parting,
I never thought, upon returning,
The fallen flowers would lie as they do.
Under the blossoms, we gaze without a word,
Spring fades beyond the green window, and dusk descends upon the heavens.
Let me recount my longing beneath the lamplight—
A strand of new joy, entangled with a thousand threads of old sorrow.
The most fleeting thing in this mortal world,
Is youth leaving the mirror, flowers parting from the trees."
"The most fleeting thing in this mortal world,
Is youth leaving the mirror, flowers parting from the trees…"
One of the scholars whispered the line to himself, but then, as if jolted awake, he suddenly lifted his head.
The banquet hall's doors burst open as gusts of Literary Wind swept into the room, causing the scholars' azure robes to billow and rustle.
"The Wind of the Literary Way…" Fang Jingchun sat up straight once again, his expression solemn.
The Literary Wind enveloped Xu Ming.
Xu Ming felt a refreshing clarity in his entire being, as though he had been washed clean, his body lifted weightlessly on a breeze, soaring thousands of miles with blissful freedom.
[Your composition "Die Lian Hua: Having Endured All the Sorrows of Parting" has stirred the fortunes of the Literary Way:
Hao Ran Qi +1000,
Charisma +50,
Attraction to the Opposite Sex +10.]
Looking at the sudden appearance of these attributes in his mind, Xu Ming was bewildered.
He could understand the Hao Ran Qi and Charisma—
But Attraction to the Opposite Sex? What in the world was that supposed to mean?
"Hiss…"
The lingering impact of the poem wasn't yet over.
Xu Ming felt the ancient spiritual root within his dantian grow by two centimeters, its leaves turning even greener. A breeze swirled around the root, gently brushing its leaves, as though nurturing it endlessly.
A quarter of an hour later, the Literary Wind in the hall finally subsided. Xu Ming let out a long, slow exhale.
"The most fleeting thing in this mortal world,
Is youth leaving the mirror, flowers parting from the trees~"
In front of Xu Ming, the nine-year-old girl Zhu Cici smiled sweetly. "Thank you. That is the most beautiful poem I have ever heard."
"As long as Miss Zhu likes it," Xu Ming replied, bowing with the poise of a little adult.
"Emmm…"
Zhu Cici tapped her chin with her finger, deep in adorable thought. Finally, she shook her head.
"But I can't come up with a poem as good to return to you. Can I owe you one for now and give it to you later?"
"Of course," Xu Ming smiled, feeling that this little girl's innocent demeanor exuded a graceful charm. Her gentleness carried a lively beauty that was quite different from the coquettish Qingwan or the proud Xuenuo at such a young age.
To Zhu Cici, owing a poem was merely a promise to be fulfilled.
But in the eyes of everyone else, this was an admission of defeat.
Qi's natural literary prodigy had been bested by the son of a concubine from Wu. This poem would undoubtedly spread far and wide.
Tonight, everyone present had become mere backdrops for this young boy's brilliance.
In the second half of the banquet, no one dared to compose another poem.
After hearing, "The most fleeting thing in this mortal world,
Is youth leaving the mirror, flowers parting from the trees,"
no one had the courage to embarrass themselves further.
Throughout the remainder of the evening, all eyes were drawn again and again to Xu Ming, seated calmly beside Xu Pangda.
His posture remained straight, his expression composed, exuding a scholarly grace as warm and refined as jade.
Is this truly just an eight-year-old child?
Qi's scholars had been utterly overshadowed, while Wu's scholars drank heartily in celebration.
By the end of the banquet, nearly everyone left drunk, except for Xu Ming and the other children.
"Shall we take a walk?"
As Xiao Mochi was about to bid farewell to Fang Jingchun, Fang Jingchun spoke up.
Xiao Mochi paused for a moment, then nodded gracefully. "Alright."
"A thousand miles, the wind so free," Fang Jingchun chanted.
In the next moment, a gust of wind swept through, enveloping Xiao Mochi and carrying him away from the courtyard.
The moonlight was like water, shimmering softly. The two of them strolled quietly along the shores of Shuiyue Lake in the capital of Wu .
Neither Xiao Mochi nor Fang Jingchun spoke, simply walking in silence along the lake.
"How did you dare?" After a long while, Fang Jingchun, with his hands behind his back, turned to glance at Xiao Mochi.
Xiao Mochi smiled faintly and shook his head. "Mochi does not understand what you mean, Sir Fang."
Stroking his beard, Fang Jingchun smiled. "You let the scholars of your Wu Kingdom lose to ours in the flower game, then lose again in composing poetry, all of it paving the way for young friend Xu Ming.
Indeed, that old man Zhang has sharp eyes.
But how could you be so sure that he would produce such an excellent poem tonight?"
Xiao Mochi continued to smile and shook his head. "Xu Ming's performance actually exceeded my expectations."
Fang Jingchun paused and then burst into laughter. "Hahaha, indeed. Xu Ming didn't even need to write such a great poem—he only needed not to lose too miserably.
Yet, unexpectedly, not only did he avoid disgrace, but the young man created a verse for the ages.
'The most fleeting thing in this mortal world,
Is youth leaving the mirror, flowers parting from the trees.'
What a marvelous line!"
Xiao Mochi remained silent.
"I hear you're enacting reforms?" Fang Jingchun asked, turning toward Xiao Mochi.
Xiao Mochi nodded slightly.
Fang Jingchun's brow furrowed slightly. "After tonight, Xu Ming's reputation will spread across Wu Kingdom, and that poem will echo throughout the land.
You could use this to make a statement, to strike at those entrenched conservatives in the court, to find a breakthrough for your reforms.
But Xiao Mochi, have you considered that this child—barely eight years old—will be thrust into the eye of the storm because of you?"
"I am aware," Xiao Mochi replied, his tone steady.
Fang Jingchun fixed his gaze on Xiao Mochi. "To involve a child in this game—how can you bear it? Do you not understand why the status of illegitimate children is so low in your Wu Kingdom? Do you truly not know what happened one hundred and fifty years ago?"
Xiao Mochi did not avert his gaze. "I will ensure Xu Ming's safety. And, if all goes as planned, when he grows up, he will become the leader of Wu Kingdom's literary world."
Fang Jingchun shook his head. "Mochi, you are too impatient."
Xiao Mochi sighed helplessly. "I only regret that I cannot move faster."
Fang Jingchun sighed as well. "You…"
Xiao Mochi stopped in his tracks, turned to face Fang Jingchun, and bowed deeply. "Sir Fang, forgive my boldness, but I have a favor to ask of you."
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