Chapter 141 Poetry

The young moon was rising, looking from afar like a handleless round fan.

Lady Fan and several maids walked ahead carrying lanterns. In the night breeze, subtle fragrances drifted from both sides of the pathway, and flower shadows swayed. Lady Fan arrived at the chambers of the Seventeenth Miss and signaled the attending maidservants to remain silent. Stepping into the bedchamber, she saw the Seventeenth Miss leaning obliquely against a couch, letting her skirt trail on the floor while she gazed mesmerized at the moonlight.

Lady Fan shook her head, then entered with a beaming smile.

"Sister-in-law!" seeing Lady Fan, the Seventeenth Miss rose to a sitting position.

Lady Fan smiled and said, "Knowing you haven't eaten much, I came to check on you. Are you feeling unwell?"

The Seventeenth Miss shook her head and replied, "Nothing much, just a bit weary."

Lady Fan first looked at the Seventeenth Miss's face, noticing that today she had used rouge to dot a lotus-shaped floral pattern on the center of her forehead. She couldn't help smiling and asking, "You've never worn a floral forehead decal before. What prompted this interest today?"

The Seventeenth Miss said somewhat bashfully, "Well, sister-in-law, what do you think of it?"

Lady Fan smiled and said, "That makes me think of a poem: 'The Han emperor valued beauty and yearned for a peerless maiden, for years ruling the realm without finding one. A maiden of the Yang family had just grown up, raised in the inner chambers where none yet knew her. Endowed with natural beauty hard to cast aside, one day she was chosen to stand by the monarch's side. With a single glance back she cast a hundred charming smiles, leaving the painted beauties of the six palaces utterly colorless.'"

The Seventeenth Miss smiled and said, "Sister-in-law, don't put it that way. I have no desire to marry into the imperial family."

"Then who do you want to marry?"

The Seventeenth Miss thought for a moment and said, "I greatly envy the Eldest Lady. When she was a young maiden, she traveled far and wide across the realm with her maternal grandfather, visiting Jiangzhou, Qizhou, and other places. In the end, she even made her own decision regarding her marriage. Now, having married into our Wu family for twenty years, everything has gone smoothly."

Hearing this, Lady Fan's expression turned stern. "Seventeenth, do not speak nonsense. Since ancient times, how could children ever make their own decisions about marriage?"

The Seventeenth Miss said, "I know as well that the Eldest Lady was her maternal grandfather's apple of the eye. As for other young ladies, even daughters of the emperor could never do such a thing."

Lady Fan said, "Indeed. No matter how much the current Princess Fukang is favored by the Emperor, once married to the consort's family, she still could not make her own decisions."

Stealing a glance at the Seventeenth Miss's expression, Lady Fan asked, "Seventeenth, do you perhaps have someone in your heart?"

Hearing these words from Lady Fan, the Seventeenth Miss smiled.

Lady Fan asked, "What are you smiling at, Seventeenth?"

The Seventeenth Miss smiled and said, "I was reminded of a joke about Prime Minister Kou [Kou Zhun]."

"What joke?"

"Prime Minister Kou once made a couplet with a colleague, saying, 'The sun at the bottom of the water is the sun in the sky.' No one could compose a matching line. As it happened, Yang Dainian [Yang Yi] came in to report on a matter, and without a moment's hesitation, Yang Yi replied, 'The person before my eyes is the person in my heart.' Later generations altered it to, 'The person before my eyes is the one in my heart.' I personally think the revised version is even more finely crafted."

Lady Fan shook her head and said, "Why on earth are you bringing this up?"

The Seventeenth Miss said solemnly, "Sister-in-law, do you remember that Yang lady we met in Pucheng? She is precisely the great-grandniece of Yang Dainian. Back then, you even scolded me for running her down."

Lady Fan smiled and said, "What? Regretting it now?"

The Seventeenth Miss said, "I truly didn't consider things thoroughly back then. Perhaps sister-in-law could now invite her over to our estate on my behalf so that I may properly apologize to her."

Lady Fan was startled. "When have you ever apologized to anyone? Could it be..."

The Seventeenth Miss laughed involuntarily. "Sister-in-law, there's no need to make such a fuss. Father's official career has not been smooth lately, and her son has just won top honors in the prefectural examination, yet he seems rather narrow-minded. I must consider the family's interests after all."

Lady Fan smiled and said, "Hearing you say this, I am reminded of a principle I learned from Mother."

"What principle?"

"That in a woman's life, nothing is cherished more than one's children, nothing cherishes oneself more than one's parents, but nothing is more crucial than one's husband."

Both women burst into laughter.

Gazing into the distance at the bright moon, they watched it rise fully, casting its solitary light upon the storied pavilion, making even the lanterns on the pavilion seem dim by comparison.

Presently, among the banquet guests in the pavilion, there were naturally those quick of thought who had already raised their brushes and dashed off compositions.

Instantly, poem after poem was presented and recited aloud by Wu Anshi before the assembly.

Everyone present was a man of talent from Bianjing, so the poems were naturally of high quality. Listening from below the terrace, the guests naturally offered their critiques and discussions.

Seeing Wu Anshi pick up a poem and ask Zhang Heng, "Brother Ziping, what do you think of this piece?"

Zhang Heng took the poem, read it, and laughed heartily. "I often tell people that when studying poetry, one should study the style of Zimei [Du Fu], for there are rules and standards to follow. Even if one ultimately fails to master Du's poetry, one will still produce something workmanlike."

"Yet this poem imitates Tao Yuanming. As everyone knows, Yuanming did not merely write poetry; he recorded the wonders within his breast! Without Tao Yuanming's genius, imitating his style results merely in shallow and rustic vernacular! In the end, it is no better than Bai Letian [Bai Juyi]."

Hearing this, Zhang Yue was taken aback. Zhang Heng certainly dared to speak his mind, even daring to disparage the poetry of Bai Juyi.

The onlookers nearby all chimed in with agreement. As expected of a top-ranking palace graduate, his discernment was truly extraordinary.

"That view is mistaken!"

Zhang Yue thought to himself that finally someone dared to object. Seeing that the objector was Zhang Dun, he immediately had a feeling it wouldn't be anything pleasant.

Sure enough, Zhang Dun said, "Tang poets did not study Du Fu, and Scholar Ouyang did not care for Du Fu either. Yet without Du Fu, could neither the Tang poets nor Scholar Ouyang write good poetry? I believe Old Du's poetry should neither be debated nor praised; wherever one gains something from it, one must simply record it. That is enough."

Zhang Yue could not help but sigh in admiration—truly, this man even dared to disparage Du Fu.

Hearing Zhang Dun's objection, Zhang Heng merely listened with a smile and did not immediately retort.

Zhang Dun continued, "As for Yuanming's poetry, I believe its texture is rich and close to antiquity. The more one reads it, the more exquisite it appears. Tang poets Wei Suzhou [Wei Yingwu] and Liu Zihou [Liu Zongyuan] both studied Tao's poetry and attained a sense of freedom; how can it be unworthy of praise?"

Nearby, Wang Guan praised, "What Brother Zihou says is entirely correct. I believe that while Liu Zihou's poetry is below Tao's, it is superior to Wei's."

The talented scholars laughed and discussed Du Fu and Bai Juyi, when Zhang Dun added, "I must say Meng Haoran's poetry is also nothing special. His poetic meter is lofty, but his talent is shallow—like a skilled craftsman who is tormented by a lack of materials in his hands."

Zhang Yue no longer knew what to say; his second older brother certainly had an audacious tone.

At this moment, moonlight spilled over the balustrade. Zhang Yue paced back and forth here, seemingly pondering poetic lines, but actually digesting his food. Seemingly digesting his food, he was nevertheless pondering poetic lines.

A maidservant followed behind Zhang Yue, wearing an expression that seemed amused yet dared not laugh.

Zhang Yue smiled at her and said, "What should I do if I simply cannot write one?"

The maidservant smiled and replied, "Judging by the young master's appearance, you don't seem like someone greedy for three cups of wine."

"That's true," Zhang Yue said.

Seeing Zhang Yue chatting and laughing with a maidservant, Zhang Heng shook his head inwardly. To converse casually with a minor maidservant on such an occasion—what kind of propriety was that?

When Zhang Yue returned to his table, the maidservant hurriedly smoothed out the paper for him.

Someone at the neighboring table smiled and said, "Only the Third Young Master remains. Could it be that he is going to be penalized with three cups of wine?"

People from the surrounding tables all looked over. Zhang Yue smiled and said, "Being the youngest of my years and possessing the slenderest of talents, I suddenly received the good fortune to be seated at the very end. Remembering my station at all times, I dared not presume to go first."

Hearing this, everyone chuckled secretly. If that is truly so, what are you still doing sitting here?

Aloud, they said, "The Third Young Master is too modest. Do you have any lines in your heart?"

Zhang Yue thought to yourself that since you are sitting right next to me, your status isn't much higher either. However, he smiled and said, "I happened to come up with one just now. Let's use the moon to express my feelings!"

With that, Zhang Yue picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and began writing on the stationery.

The maidservant stood beside him, holding the paper steady with one hand while watching him write stroke by stroke.

This maidservant was also somewhat literate, but as they watched Zhang Yue write, their expressions didn't change much. When Zhang Yue finished writing, he blew the ink dry and handed the paper to the maidservant.

The maidservant accepted the sheet of stationery, bowed slightly to Zhang Yue, and said, "The young master's handwriting is truly beautiful."

With that, the maidservant handed Zhang Yue's writing over to Wu Anshi. Wu Anshi was currently discussing poetry with Zhang Heng, Zhang Dun, Huang Guan, and others, so for a moment no one else at the banquet paid attention to the attendants below.

"Among today's poetry, everyone pushes Brother Zihou's piece as the finest, but I alone favor Brother Dao's poem!" Wu Anshi said with a smile.

As for officials and people of high status, others naturally wouldn't dare compare their poetry with that of common scholars. But among scholars, distinctions of superiority could certainly be made.

And Wu Anshi genuinely admired Liu Ji's talent.

Seeing that everyone else recommended Zhang Dun while only Wu Anshi praised him, Liu Ji merely replied indifferently, "I don't deserve such praise."

It was only when the maidservant presented the stationery that Wu Anshi realized someone had not yet finished writing.

Wu Anshi knew well that in composing poetry, some pieces were written in a single flowing breath, while others were revised while writing, growing better with each revision. For instance, Ouyang Xiu used to say that his writing relied on three abundances: reading abundantly, verifying abundantly, and deliberating abundantly.

Wu Anshi did not dare underestimate it either. After reading the poem, he softly recited a few lines with a pensive expression, then passed it to Wu Anchi beside him.

Wu Anchi read it over, an expression of difficulty crossing his face, and passed it on to Zhang Heng.

Zhang Heng glanced at it a few times and smiled to those around him, "Reading this poem actually reminds me of Emperor Taizu's unfinished poem."

Everyone laughed. There was a well-known anecdote from back then: One day during a court audience, when Emperor Zhao Kuangyin met the Southern Tang envoy Xu Xuan, Xu Xuan remarked that his sovereign's poem about the autumn moon was peerless in the world.

Upon hearing this autumn moon poem, Zhao Kuangyin laughed and said, "That is the poetry of a impoverished scholar. Let me let you hear what imperial poetry sounds like."

With that, Zhao Kuangyin recited two lines: "Before leaving the sea floor, it inks a thousand mountains; just as it reaches the zenith of the sky, it brightens ten thousand lands." Xu Xuan was instantly overwhelmed by Zhao Kuangyin's majestic imperial aura, bowed to the floor, and shouted "Long live," causing Zhao Kuangyin to forget the second half of the poem.

This was, of course, an anecdote; the story sounded fake upon hearing it.

Yet this majestic poem about the moon was only half finished, and to this day no one had written the second half.

Everyone thought to themselves: What kind of poem could make Zhang Heng think it was an imitation of that unfinished half-moon poem? If it fell even slightly short, it would be like trying to paint a tiger and ending up with a dog.

That would be even more miserable than failing to imitate Tao Yuanming and ending up like Bai Juyi instead.

Then they heard Zhang Heng recite: "When the fifteenth arrives it becomes full and round, gathering a handful of clear light to guard the jade balustrade. Once a single wheel of the moon is lifted into the sky, ten thousand ordinary folk look up and gaze upon it."

Upon first listening carefully, everyone thought to themselves: It's nothing special, nothing worthy of praise.

However, as they looked at the scenery where the moonlight spilled over the balustrade, they thought the poem fit the occasion quite well.

Yet upon hearing the second half, their feelings shifted somewhat. Everyone involuntarily raised their heads to look at the bright moon rising to the center of the sky outside the pavilion, and instantly understood the meaning within the poem.

Zhang Yue drained his cup of lamb wine in a single gulp.

The scholars to his left and right looked at Zhang Yue and thought to themselves: What low social status? Who are you trying to fool?

What an audacious tone!

The poem passed through everyone's hands.

Wu Anshi and Wu Anchi could not quite perceive its full depth upon first tasting it, but now as they looked at Zhang Yue, they felt a sense of astonishment, though they found it hard to judge.

After a moment of contemplation, Wu Anshi handed the stationery to Zhang Dun and asked, "How does Brother Zihou view this poem by your younger brother?"

[Author's Note: I simply feel it's a bit unjust for this poem to be attributed under Lord Cao's name to Village Brother.]