Chapter Ninety-Five: "A Chance Composition"

At these words, everyone present turned to look at Song Mu. Song Mu, in turn, gazed at the slightly intoxicated scholar before him, a man over forty who had struggled mightily to finally pass the imperial examination. Now, having achieved some measure of success, he was drinking heartily this evening to express his feelings freely.

The scholar’s request was not unreasonable, especially since a few poems had already been composed earlier. As the top candidate, Song Mu was expected to contribute a poem as well. Some nearby voices echoed this sentiment; after all, such refined gatherings were enlivened when the leading scholar composed verse.

Amid the chorus of encouragement, Song Mu turned toward the officials seated to the east. The Prefect Qiu and the Director Fan wore smiles, watching with keen interest. Prefect Qiu chuckled and said, “Excellent, Song Mu. Why not compose a poem to entertain everyone?”

Others quickly agreed, and even Cui Kexing and the others gazed at Song Mu with shining eyes. Song Mu smiled and nodded toward the Prefect and the scholar before him.

Rising from his seat, Song Mu surveyed the room and then spoke: “Song Mu will humbly offer a verse.”

He paced slowly on the upper floor, the evening breeze stirring the leaves outside the pavilion. Taking a deep breath, he quietly recited a few lines of poetry:

“Youth fades fast, learning is difficult to achieve,
Not an inch of time should be taken lightly.”

…

“Before one knows it, spring grasses dream beside the pond,
While leaves fall with autumn’s sound before the steps.”

The couplet was Zhu Xi’s exhortation to learning, “Occasional Composition,” effortlessly flowing from his lips.

Song Mu’s gaze fixed on the middle-aged scholar as he raised his cup in a toast, then lifted it toward the surrounding guests. The short seven-character quatrain was spoken calmly yet left a profound impression.

One by one, the listeners wore thoughtful expressions, their mouths opening slightly, eyes widening. Only the faint sound of a pipa drifted softly in the background.

Suddenly, someone rose and exclaimed, “Well done!” Applause erupted.

Prefect Qiu savored the poem deeply, exchanging glances with Director Fan, both revealing surprise in their eyes. This seven-character regulated verse was not only melodious but rich with meaning.

Director Fan stroked his beard and murmured with a smile, “What a fine line—‘Youth fades fast, learning is difficult to achieve; not an inch of time should be taken lightly!’”

Prefect Qiu laughed heartily, rising to address Song Mu.

“Top Candidate Song, splendid poem! Have you given it a title?”

Song Mu drained his cup, glanced at the crowd, then respectfully saluted Prefect Qiu.

“May I trouble Your Excellency for brush and ink?”

Prefect Qiu nodded and waved his hand. Immediately, a servant brought a writing desk equipped with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

The surrounding scholars all stood, exchanging looks, stepping forward. They had pondered Song Mu’s poem and found each line a gem—both sonorous and stirring the soul. This was a poem urging the pursuit of knowledge, perfectly apt and enlightening.

Song Mu knelt on a cushion before the desk, gently grinding ink, then grasped the brush with his sleeve restrained.

Everyone gathered closely, eyes fixed unwaveringly on the writing desk, eager to witness the poem’s inscription.

Song Mu’s brush moved swiftly, forming bold, slender strokes as sharp as blades. The seven-character regulated verse leapt to the page with vivid life.

“Occasional Composition.”

Underneath, the title was inscribed. Almost immediately, a radiant literary aura surged forth from the paper, filling the air before seemingly entering Song Mu’s very being.

At that moment, someone nearby exclaimed, “Such talent! Yet another fine poem!”

As the voice fell, the old desk trembled as if gripped by gravity, its aged wood creaking and suddenly shattering.

The ink on the desk threatened to spill onto the freshly written poem. A startled cry went up, but then the paper itself radiated a powerful force, repelling the ink as if by magic.

The ink swirled away from the paper and Song Mu, splattering the surroundings. The crowd quickly stepped back, narrowly avoiding the ink, yet the poem’s sheet remained pristine and spotless.

Though the desk lay in ruins, the paper rested calmly atop the rubble, emitting a soft puffing sound.

That single sheet weighed several hundred pounds.

The onlookers were stunned, frozen in place. Some even forgot to check whether their scholar’s robes were stained with ink, instead involuntarily flaring their nostrils.

“Do you smell that fragrance?” someone asked.

Replies came swiftly, faces marked with surprise.

Prefect Qiu and Director Fan approached, their eyes fixed on the poem, also catching the subtle, spreading scent.

“Could it be that this poem holds some extraordinary quality?” one ventured.

Director Fan was the first to grasp the significance. Stepping forward, he studied the immaculate poem among the debris, quietly reciting lines. His expression shifted to one of revelation.

“The dream of spring grasses by the pond…”

“If I recall correctly, this is an allusion from the Southern History, the biography of Xie Fangming, and a line borrowed from Xie Lingyun’s ‘Ascending the Pond Tower.’ Here, the classical verse praising spring is ingeniously repurposed as a metaphor for fleeting youthful days, like a spring dream swiftly fading. Brilliant, truly brilliant.”

Fan Zhengxiong, fittingly the Director of Education, had instantly recalled the reference and discerned the poem’s deeper meaning.

Xie Lingyun was a great poet of the Northern and Southern Dynasties, and this poem was renowned.

It was remarkable that Song Mu could effortlessly incorporate such a refined allusion; no wonder the poem was accompanied by a fragrant aura.

Throughout history, those who skillfully employed classical allusions to enhance their poetry often encountered unexpected marvels.

Hearing Director Fan’s words, the crowd’s expressions shifted subtly. Cui Kexing and others’ eyes flashed with newfound respect.

Then, a hearty laugh broke out, followed by a whispered sob.

Everyone turned to see the mature scholar from before, now slumped on the ground with his cup, murmuring Song Mu’s poem.

“Youth fades fast, learning is difficult to achieve... studying is not easy.”

His voice trembled. The assembled scholars felt their hearts stir deeply, especially those of advanced years, who could not hold back their sorrow.

This simple phrase laid bare the bitter truth of a scholar’s life.

Some succeed young; others remain students into old age.

Even Song Mu felt moved. The crowd shared a collective resolve, unwilling to stagnate.

The middle-aged scholar sighed and turned to Song Mu, his eyes filled with gratitude.

“Top Candidate Song, thank you! Your poem is like a sudden enlightenment!”

He stood, still intoxicated but with a clear gaze.

“Not a moment of time should be wasted. I, Wang Hai, have not lived aimlessly and am at peace with myself.”

“Though I became a scholar only at fifty, I will not lose heart! I shall continue to study the sages’ teachings!”

“One day, I shall surely rise even higher!”

His words were impassioned, drawing enthusiastic cheers from the crowd of scholars. Prefect Qiu and Director Fan watched with surprise and admiration, their gazes naturally drawn to Song Mu.

This young man was truly extraordinary.

…

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