Chapter 45: Alone Here, Poetry Arrives

Yang Xuan returned home and sat on the threshold, lost in thought.

"Since the young master came back, something's been off," Cao Ying frowned. "The problem is, he won't say a word."

"Would speaking help? Can you solve his troubles?" Yi Niang replied with little patience. "Just wait."

She suddenly raised Cao Ying's hand beside her.

A falcon landed like lightning on Cao Ying's arm, its sharp talons making him grunt in pain. He gritted his teeth, "Enough, a gentleman does not stoop to quarreling with women!"

Yi Niang took the letter, looking down to read it.

"What does it say?" Cao Ying tried to peek.

Yi Niang held the paper and slowly walked over.

"Young master."

Yang Xuan looked up. "Today I went to bid farewell to Lord Yan. Many gathered; the people of Chang'an spoke of him with gratitude and tears. Yet I am confused—such a good man, such a good official, why did he meet such an end?"

Yi Niang lowered her head, "Young master, in these times... it is hard to be good."

"Indeed," Yang Xuan was shaken by what he saw today, but the greater the impact, the more uneasy he felt. "I feel bound, unable to move."

Cao Ying stepped forward, feeling pity for the youth before him—a fifteen-year-old boy, still with some innocence, now burdened with heavy responsibilities. An ordinary person would have been crushed.

"Young master, those bindings..."

He was careful with his words.

Yang Xuan nodded, "I know, those bindings stem from my understanding of this world, and that understanding, in turn, binds me."

"I wish to break free from these invisible ropes, but I do not know how..."

For the first time, he showed confusion.

Yet soon he gathered himself. In the mountains, those years, any weakness would have led to death beneath the claws of wild beasts, turning him into dust in Dongyu Mountain.

"Young master, Yang Lue sent a letter, with words from His Majesty," Yi Niang handed him the note.

Yang Xuan looked at them, "Read it."

They had already seen its contents, and secrecy would only invite ridicule.

Cao Ying was impatient.

Yi Niang gently read aloud, "My son..."

Yang Xuan squinted, feeling for the first time the attitude of that father toward him.

Would it be encouragement to rebel? Or comfort to live as an ordinary man?

“My son, this world is perilous. Better cunning and ruthless than virtuous and gentle.”

Yang Xuan sat there for a long time, then waved his hand.

Cao Ying and Yi Niang withdrew.

Yang Xuan skipped lunch, sitting on the threshold, quietly gazing at the ground.

Until dinner, Yi Niang, worried, came again to persuade him.

"Young master, you must let some things go."

Yang Xuan only waved his hand gently.

The sun set, the moon rose, stars filled the sky.

That figure sat unmoving all night.

Cao Ying and Yi Niang stood beneath the tree.

In the front yard, the old thief slept soundly.

Cluck, cluck, cluck!

The rooster crowed, jolting the two under the tree.

"Go rest," Yang Xuan stood ahead, hands clasped behind his back.

"Young master," Yi Niang was beside herself with worry, "If you can't do it, then don't rebel, don't seek to overturn the order. I will accompany you to Yuanzhou, find you a wife, bear a flock of children, and I will raise them for you—ah!"

Yang Xuan looked at her, his eyes shining as never before. He reached out, pulling Yi Niang into his arms, and whispered in her ear, "Thank you."

Yi Niang's body stiffened, then she hugged Yang Xuan's waist, choking back tears, "I only fear your heart will suffer."

"Gentlemen should not embrace women so freely..." Cao Ying muttered, wiping his tears.

Yang Xuan released Yi Niang, smiled, "I have simply untied the ropes that bound me."

He had entered the mountains at ten to hunt and survive; those five years were more harrowing than fifty years for most. Wild beasts in the wilderness, cold eyes and harsh treatment at home—had he been purely good-hearted, he would have perished long ago, leaving not a trace.

"It is your yearning for affection that led to weakness and compromise."

The voice of Vermilion Bird sounded in his ear.

Yang Xuan took a deep breath, "To have survived is truly a blessing!"

Until last night, he was still that boy from Xiahe Village. After witnessing the fate of Yan City, he awakened somewhat. His father's last words were like a jolt of clarity. The past flashed before his eyes, then faded.

A sense of rebirth brought him a greedy joy in breathing the air, viewing all before him as both familiar and fresh.

"Congratulations," Vermilion Bird said.

At breakfast, Cao Ying remarked, "Young master, should someone be sent to watch over Yuanzhou Noodles?"

"No need," Yang Xuan shook his head.

Cao Ying felt Yang Xuan had gained something, lost something, yet couldn't quite say what. "I'm just afraid those two women will pocket the money."

Yang Xuan put down his chopsticks, "If I can create Yuanzhou Noodles, I can create ten or a hundred more. Whoever leaves at such a time, I will not see them off."

Vermilion Bird's voice came, "They will regret it deeply."

Yang Xuan went to his room. Yi Niang, too worried to eat, frowned, "But that's still money. How has the young master become so extravagant..."

"Gentlemen do not speak of profit," Cao Ying said, savoring a piece of lamb.

Yi Niang sneered, "Strategist, give me a plan."

Cao Ying stroked his beard in a dignified manner...

"Your lunch is gone," Yi Niang said, never indulging anyone's habits—except for the young master.

Cao Ying's face changed, he chuckled awkwardly, "Actually, it's simple. You often say the young master lacks a woman's care. Fourth Lady is quite charming. If the young master took her in... ha ha ha!"

A gain in both wealth and beauty!

He was pleased, but seeing Yi Niang's blank expression, he asked, "Do you not understand?"

Yi Niang looked up, "For money, you'd have the young master take a lady merchant as his wife? Where is your integrity?"

"Integrity?" Cao Ying coughed, "A gentleman must also know how to adapt."

Later, the two appeared outside Yuanzhou Noodles.

"Well? Wide hips, clean face, lively eyes, though her chest is a bit too large—looks exhausting," Cao Ying said, adopting an expert air.

Han Ying's figure flitted within the shop.

Yi Niang cast an imperial eye over her, murmuring, "I'm only afraid she'll overwhelm the young master, and being stifled is no good either."

...

"The Crown Prince is coming."

An Ziyu grumbled, "When the Crown Prince was first invested, the Imperial Academy only sent gifts, did not send anyone to congratulate him. Since then, the Academy has been scorned in the Eastern Palace, targeted at every turn. Why is he coming today? A weasel wishing the chicken well—no good intentions!"

"We said we would not form factions, so naturally no one was sent to congratulate," Ning Yayun gently played her zither, speaking with calm indifference. "Whether he comes or not, the Academy remains here."

Ning Yayun's eyes flashed fiercely, and she held a firestick, "If he tries to plant his men here, I'll burn your ancient zither."

Ning Yayun sighed as Zhong Hui entered.

"Ah!" He sighed as soon as he came in.

"Speak!" An Ziyu had no patience for such moaning men.

Zhong Hui instinctively dodged, but no ruler flew at him. He stroked his beard, "The Bao Dong family has been struggling lately. The old father is sick and needs rare medicines. Their household expenses are considerable..."

"I suppose he's earning money for his father's treatment, and I scolded him for being greedy." An Ziyu was taken aback, then choked up, "How pitiful, sob sob..."

Outside, two junior officials nervously accompanied the Crown Prince and his retinue.

Li Jing, dressed in plain clothes, smiled as he looked around.

It was the first time in years that the Crown Prince of the Tang had entered the Imperial Academy.

His attendants and palace officials wore stern expressions—the Crown Prince displayed friendliness, they displayed coldness. Between warmth and chill, an invisible chasm opened between the Prince and his entourage, impossible to cross.

"Sob sob sob!"

Weeping sounded from the duty room; a palace attendant frowned, "His Highness is here, whose ill fortune is this? Go see!"

A guard strode forward, pushing open the door.

"Out!" a woman snapped.

A ruler flashed.

Bang!

The guard fell, eyes rolled back, and fainted with a burp. His forehead swelled quickly.

Li Jing's smile faded slightly. Beside him, Eastern Palace official and great scholar Hu Yanwei whispered, "This is a show of force, Your Highness."

"I understand," Li Jing smiled still.

"Dean, His Highness is here!"

Someone called.

Ning Yayun and her companions came out to greet him, glanced at the guard on the ground. Ning Yayun sighed inwardly, while An Ziyu said, "He did not knock."

Someone dragged the guard away, and Ning Yayun invited the Crown Prince in for tea.

Tea was served; a palace attendant poured a little into a small cup and drank it first.

Li Jing smiled, "I have not visited the Academy for a long time. How has teaching been these years?"

This was an inspection.

Ning Yayun habitually wanted to play the zither, but before her was a table, so she touched her cup, feeling numb, "The Academy has been diligent all these years..."

She spoke flawlessly, veiling the subject in abstruse terms—surely the Crown Prince would not test their scholarship?

Li Jing nodded in approval, "Very good."

Hu Yanwei smiled, "As the poem says, songs express intent. Today, with so many talents gathered, I have composed a poem, hoping to inspire, though it may be crude."

An Ziyu's eyes narrowed—most at the Academy were obsessed with philosophical talk and cultivation, rarely composing poetry.

Hu Yanwei pondered briefly, reciting, "The heart is like a good seed; with nourishment, it grows. Water feeds the seed, reason feeds the heart. A day without reading leaves the mind dull. A month without reading dims the senses."

The poem fit the Academy's atmosphere perfectly.

Hu Yanwei smiled modestly, "Forgive my poor verse."

An Ziyu glanced at Ning Yayun, thinking the Crown Prince had indeed come to disrupt.

Ning Yayun groaned inwardly, remembering the emperor's displeasure with the Left Prime Minister. The Academy was his ally; to target the Academy was to target the Left Prime Minister. The Crown Prince's trouble-making was to ease the emperor's concerns.

He looked at Zhong Hui.

Zhong Hui's lips moved, his troubled expression reminiscent of constipation.

Back to diligent study!

An Ziyu wanted to ease the atmosphere, but the Crown Prince smiled at them, his gentle gaze carrying an undeniable authority.

I am here!

The poem, please!

An Ziyu was startled—today the Crown Prince was here to disgrace the Academy and curry favor with the emperor.

This was a man who could offer his own princess to the emperor—what wouldn't he do?

Li Jing smiled, "What say you?"

Hu Yanwei bowed, "Your guidance, please."

The atmosphere was tense, silent.

"I have one," came a voice from outside.

A palace attendant turned angrily, "His Highness is here, silence!"

The person outside, blocked by guards, recited on his own.

"Burning the lamp at midnight, crowing rooster at dawn, these are the hours for a man to study."

Hu Yanwei smiled, "Ordinary." Yet his foot shifted uneasily.

These lines were more natural and inspiring than his own, already surpassing many. Still, two lines are nothing—poetry is made by its final couplet.

The person outside continued, "Black hair knows not to study early, white head regrets reading too late."

These concluding lines were exquisite, encouraging diligence, far superior to Hu Yanwei's poem.

Hu Yanwei's hand shook, his cup fell onto the table, rolled off, spilling tea over his robe.

An Ziyu was overjoyed, "Who is outside?"

"It's Yang Xuan!"

...

Ps: The first poem is by Qing poet Xiao Lunwei, "Composed Upon Reading."

The second poem is by Tang poet Yan Zhenqing, "Poem on Encouraging Study."