Chapter 11: Oh My God~
The next morning, a light snow fell upon the myriad streets and districts, blanketing the majestic Chang’an like a giant beast slumbering in a snowy expanse. The roads leading to all corners of the empire were like the beast’s fur, connecting every nook and cranny of the vast territory.
With the New Year just a month away, Song Yufu stepped out of the Wenqu Courtyard, her arms laden with books. She looked up at the snowflakes falling from the sky.
The New Year was approaching, and her father, Song Baiqing, would inevitably have to attend the upcoming Dragon’s Roar Poetry Gathering, if only for appearances. However, he believed that “poetry is like a martial artist’s flowery fist techniques, pleasing to the eye but useless in governing a nation.” He looked down upon the scholars who competed fiercely at poetry gatherings, leaving such trivial matters to his daughter.
As a woman, Song Yufu wouldn’t be able to hold an official position, so she didn’t care for the distinction between “minor talents in poetry” and “great talents in governance.” She was content with simply enjoying beautiful poems.
However, for the past few days, she had been unable to muster any enthusiasm, perhaps due to Prince Xu.
He had been in Chang’an for a year, but he rarely attended classes at the Imperial Academy. When he did, he would seclude himself in the Bell and Drum Tower. In the past, they had only exchanged brief greetings in passing.
But after witnessing him defend the Wolf Guard and punish Xiao Ting for his disrespectful gaze, she had become curious about this aloof prince.
He was clearly a calm and reasonable gentleman, so why did he always present himself as arrogant and unruly? He had forced her to copy for him, threatened her, and even tossed her around. Perhaps she had annoyed him with her chatter. After spending a few days with him, she realized he wasn’t that fierce after all…
Lost in her thoughts, Song Yufu reached out and caught a few snowflakes in her hand. The fur collar of her Aoqun brushed against her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.
She glanced at the Bell and Drum Tower standing tall in the center of the Imperial Academy. After a moment of hesitation, she walked towards it with graceful steps. She knew that Prince Xu would likely make her copy for him again, but she was curious about him. Copying was a small price to pay…
The Bell and Drum Tower was a solemn and revered place. The “Bell of Remembrance” hanging there symbolized the hardships endured by the Great Dynasty during its century of humiliation. It was usually deserted and quiet.
Song Yufu hesitated, afraid of being discovered by Xu Buling. She tiptoed towards the room at the base of the tower, unsure how to greet him. But then she heard voices coming from inside:
“…What kind of terrible poems did you buy? The Dragon’s Roar Poetry Gathering is in a few days…”
“…Young Master, true art comes naturally, a stroke of genius…”
…
Song Yufu froze, her eyes widening in surprise.
It was common for princes and noblemen to buy poems and present them as their own at literary gatherings. Most of the unmotivated youths in Wenqu Courtyard had done it. It wasn’t a heinous crime, but true scholars looked down upon such behavior.
She hadn’t expected Prince Xu, with his high status and aloof demeanor, to engage in such a practice. As the legitimate son of Prince Su, he was already blessed with privilege and didn’t need the recognition of scholars. Why would he resort to such a charade?
Song Yufu felt a pang of disappointment. She considered for a moment, but she couldn’t bring herself to confront him. She decided to leave quietly. However, the next words she heard from inside the room stopped her in her tracks…
…
Inside the small room at the base of the Bell and Drum Tower, the doors and windows were tightly shut.
Xu Buling sat upright at the desk, a stack of poems in his hand.
Old Xiao stood beside him, leaning on his cane and shaking his head repeatedly:
“Young Master, scholars are proud. Selling poems for money is considered disgraceful. There are only a handful of scholars who are willing to do it, and they only sell to acquaintances. I had to make many inquiries and spend a considerable amount of silver to find a connection.”
Xu Buling frowned, looking at the thick stack of poems with a worried expression.
Wealthy young men bought poems to show off, not to embarrass themselves. The scholars who sold poems understood their clients’ mentality and wrote verses that were mediocre but presentable. True scholars wouldn’t bother scrutinizing such forgettable poems, whether they were bought or not.
Xu Buling wanted to tarnish his reputation with accusations of plagiarism. The poems couldn’t be too bad, or they wouldn’t attract any attention. People wouldn’t care if they were his or not, and even if they knew he had bought them, they wouldn’t bother arguing over such insignificant verses.
Remembering Madam Lu’s instructions, Xu Buling felt a headache coming on. He tossed the poems aside:
“Can’t you find anything better? Something that would ‘captivate Chang’an’ with a single verse?”
Old Xiao rolled his eyes:
“Young Master, even if you could write a verse that could ‘captivate Chang’an,’ let alone ‘cover the Imperial Academy,’ those scholars wouldn’t sell their poems for money. Why don’t you write a few yourself?”
Xu Buling considered for a moment. It seemed like the only option. Old Xiao had saved his life last year, carrying him through a battlefield of carnage. There was no need to be wary of him. He picked up a brush, ground the ink, and wrote a few lines on the Xuan paper.
Old Xiao knew that Xu Buling had become more intelligent after his illness, but he had never seen him write poetry before. He craned his neck, following the brushstrokes and reading aloud:
“Drunk, I trim the lamp and gaze at my sword; in dreams I return to the bugle’s call and the encampment… To settle the Emperor’s affairs under heaven, to win fame in life and after death. Alas, my hair has turned white!… No, no, this won’t do…”
Xu Buling was puzzled. He looked up:
“Why not? I’m only eighteen. It’s obvious I couldn’t have written this poem.”
Poetry wasn’t just about stringing together beautiful words. Without the experience of life’s vicissitudes, one couldn’t capture such a sense of profoundness and grandeur.
Xu Buling wanted people to see that he was plagiarizing, so he needed to write something that didn’t match his age. This poem, in his opinion, was perfect.
But Old Xiao shook his head:
“Young Master, General Xu spent his entire life on the battlefield. If you write these lines, people might think you’re commemorating your ancestor. Those scholars, if they consider this possibility, will believe that you actually wrote it.”
Xu Buling frowned. He had forgotten about that. He thought for a moment, then picked up the brush again and wrote:
“Withered vines, old trees, crows at dusk… A small bridge, flowing water, a humble dwelling… An ancient road, a west wind, a thin horse… The setting sun descends, a heartbroken traveler at the edge of the world…”
Xu Buling finished writing and raised his eyebrows:
“This should be fine, right? As a prince, I could never experience such hardship.”
Old Xiao frowned, examining the lines with a hint of melancholy:
“Last year, after the ambush at the Wei River, I carried you, Young Master, all the way to Chang’an, hiding and fleeing. The scenery along the way was quite similar to this poem…”
Xu Buling’s frown deepened. He had never realized that plagiarizing poetry could be so difficult.
He didn’t remember many poems. After racking his brain, he could only write:
“Ten years, life and death separated by a vast expanse; I don’t think of you, yet it’s hard to forget. A lonely grave a thousand miles away, nowhere to express my sorrow…”
Old Xiao looked at the neat handwriting on the Xuan paper, a hint of sadness in his eyes. He patted Xu Buling’s shoulder:
“Princess Su passed away ten years ago, heartbroken over the ‘Iron Eagle Hunts the Deer’ incident. Prince Su has never been able to let go. I didn’t realize you had noticed, Young Master…”
Slap!
Xu Buling slammed the brush on the table and spread his hands in frustration:
“I can’t even fool you. How am I supposed to fool those scholars?”
Old Xiao sighed deeply, looking at Xu Buling with a hint of pride, as if he were watching a child finally grow into a capable man.
Xu Buling was speechless. He sat at the desk, lost in thought for a long time. Finally, he picked up the brush again and wrote:
“The wind has stopped, the fragrance of dust lingers, the flowers have faded; the sun sets, I’m too weary to comb my hair. Things have changed, people have vanished, all is in vain; tears flow before I can speak…”
Old Xiao’s eyes lit up. He leaned closer and examined the lines carefully:
“Hmm… These words don’t sound like they were written by a man. It’s clearly the voice of a heartbroken woman who has endured much suffering… An ordinary person couldn’t write something like this…”
“Let’s go with this one. I don’t believe they won’t be able to tell that I copied it…”
…
…
Outside the room.
Song Yufu’s eyes were wide with astonishment, her hand covering her mouth. She had stumbled upon a treasure trove of talent.
Oh my god~
Effortless verses, shifting styles.
A seasoned general, a wandering traveler, a melancholic scholar, a lonely woman in a secluded chamber…
He seamlessly transitioned between different perspectives, capturing the essence of each character flawlessly.
His mastery of poetry was superhuman!
Song Yufu’s eyelashes fluttered, her heart pounding with excitement. She wanted to rush inside and see the rest of the poems.
But she stopped herself.
From what she had overheard, Prince Xu didn’t want fame. He even wanted to be accused of plagiarism.
She didn’t understand his motives, but she knew for certain that he wasn’t plagiarizing.
As a daughter of a scholarly family, with a father and brothers who were renowned Confucian scholars, she couldn’t stand by and watch a truly talented individual’s reputation be tarnished.
If she went inside now, Prince Xu would know that she had been eavesdropping, and he would likely abandon his plan to attend the poetry gathering.
So…
Song Yufu narrowed her eyes, a mischievous glint appearing in them…
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