Chapter Eighty-One: Astonishing the Entire Hall
At some point, the mocking and jeering voices faded away, replaced by a riotous silence. Everyone was involuntarily immersed in the poetic imagery painted by the brush and verse. That feeling of love unattainable, helpless confusion, and sorrow resonated deeply with many present. If one listened closely, faint sobs could be heard; more than a few women’s eyes were tinged with red.
“Speaking through verse, I laugh at my own heart; when will we meet again to comfort my wandering soul?”
“That’s not a poem!” Master Huang attempted to nitpick.
But Miss Ying’er impatiently cut him off, “Be quiet!”
She gazed, dazed, at Qin Zhen as he wildly brushed the characters, her lofty eyes betraying a hint of fascination.
Master Huang instantly deflated like a punctured ball, his face forlorn.
Bamboo doors face bamboo doors, vermilion gates face vermilion gates—the feudal society, classes destined to be as they are.
The world is perilous; how many lovers are torn apart, forced to spend their lives as strangers when they should have stayed together?
Listening to Qin Zhen’s recitation, the Lord of Coastal City closed his eyes slightly, as if transported back to that summer when he was sixteen.
Back then, he was not yet the city lord, his family lacked power or status.
He thought he’d reached the end of his prospects, so his family arranged a marriage for him—the youngest daughter of the Wang family from the west side of the city. They had grown up together, childhood sweethearts.
But that year, by luck, he passed the imperial examination, and as the saying goes, “when one rises, the whole family prospers.”
Suddenly, the Wang daughter was no longer considered a suitable match for a rising scholar’s family.
Unpleasant voices began to fill his home.
He refused to break the engagement.
They were truly in love.
But for his future, the Wang daughter took the initiative to dissolve the betrothal. As if to make him give up hope, she married a ruffian the following month.
He knew it was all the result of family pressure. He hated it, but was powerless to change anything.
And on the day he married the noble lady, he received news—the Wang daughter was dead.
She died of illness brought on by grief.
“To match virtue with desire, to walk hand in hand; denied soaring together, I am left to ruin.”
The brush halted abruptly, exuding endless desolation, leaving the crowd unsettled for a long while.
“What is the name of this poem?” the Lord of Coastal City murmured.
Qin Zhen respectfully replied, “My lord, this poem is called ‘Phoenix Seeking the Phoenix.’”
What he wrote was only the first part; there was a second part as well.
He had intended to write both, but his writing had been too free and unrestrained, using up all the scroll paper.
Qin Zhen thought to himself, “I must invent papermaking soon, or else even writing a word will be stingy.”
“Phoenix Seeking the Phoenix?” The Lord of Coastal City slowly opened his eyes, his aged gaze moist. He took a deep breath, then rose abruptly to praise, “What a splendid ‘Phoenix Seeking the Phoenix’!”
Was the Wang daughter beautiful?
Compared to the noble lady, she was certainly not.
Yet in the City Lord’s heart, her smile was the most beautiful of all.
“I truly love this poem!”
Miss Ying’er’s eyes shone, the meaning behind the words stirring something within her—a young lady bound by rules feeling, for the first time, the beauty and tragedy of love between man and woman.
Especially the line “A moment apart, thoughts ensnare me like madness,” which made her heart flutter in a way she had never known.
Unlike the refined sons of noble houses like Nangong Yuan, Qin Zhen’s every gesture radiated an indescribable simplicity and clarity.
She could not help but ask, “Young Master Qin, surely there is a very important woman in your heart?”
How else could he write such deeply moving verse?
“That’s right.”
Hearing Miss Ying’er address him as “Young Master,” Qin Zhen was somewhat surprised.
Indeed, there was a woman of great importance in his heart.
Her name was Liu Juan.
But Miss Ying’er misunderstood; she imagined the poem was written for her, and that the woman in the verse was naturally herself.
She never expected that Qin Zhen, though so young, could love her so madly!
No wonder—after all, she was unrivaled in beauty and poise; Qin Zhen’s infatuation was inevitable.
Looking at Qin Zhen, whose age was similar to hers, her thoughts became complicated.
Even if Qin Zhen’s talent was extraordinary, he was still a commoner. Could she accept his affection? Would her father consent to their union?
Few knew that, though today was called her birthday banquet, in truth the City Lord hoped she would meet—and perhaps choose—a distinguished young man from Jiangnan as her husband.
Looking across the banquet, only Qin Zhen stood out for his talent.
Qin Zhen, of course, had no idea of Miss Ying’er’s imaginings; he merely wanted to curb the arrogance of Nangong Yuan and Tang Xuan.
Nangong Yuan walked over, his expression complex; the arrogance on his face had turned to deep respect.
“Qin Zhen—no, Young Master Qin, I apologize for my earlier offense. Please forgive me.”
One ‘Phoenix Seeking the Phoenix’ had shattered Nangong Yuan’s confidence as a scholar.
Like most self-important, proud men of letters from Great Shang, Nangong Yuan was arrogant about his talent, but he could also appreciate another’s brilliance.
Qin Zhen was surprised.
He had thought that someone like Nangong Yuan would be furious and seek revenge.
Reality, it seemed, differed from the formulas of mindless popular novels.
At that moment, Tang Xuan also came over, bowing respectfully.
“Young Master Qin, you are right. The poems we wrote are nothing but filth! Only poetry born of genuine feeling, like yours, is truly great! If you permit, may I copy down ‘Phoenix Seeking the Phoenix’? I wish to share it with scholars across the land.”
Qin Zhen scratched his head. “You may, but you must note that this poem was not composed by me—it is one I transcribed. Its author is Sima Xiangru of the Han dynasty.”
“Young Master Qin, please don’t jest! There is no Han dynasty, nor Sima Xiangru!” Nangong Yuan thought Qin Zhen was simply avoiding fame by inventing a name, and admired him all the more for his humility.
“To think that Young Master Qin, so young, is already so detached from worldly ambition—we are in awe!” Tang Xuan added, “But as scholars, we value truth! One is one, two is two! Today, so many in Baiyang Tower witnessed you compose this poem—how could it be false?”
“It really isn’t my own work—I transcribed it!” Qin Zhen replied helplessly.
Why did no one believe his words?
“If Young Master Qin truly wishes to avoid fame, we won’t insist. But the poem must have an author.” Nangong Yuan, ever clever, suggested, “Why not choose a pen name, Young Master Qin?”
Among scholars, pen names and literary titles were common—‘Hermit,’ ‘Orchid Pavilion’ and so on.
“A pen name?”
Qin Zhen chuckled.
“Let it be ‘Stars of Huaxia.’”
“Stars of Huaxia?” Nangong Yuan and Tang Xuan exchanged glances, puzzled.
“Yes, Stars of Huaxia,” Qin Zhen’s eyes gleamed with hope.
He suddenly imagined Huaxia’s poetry and cultural treasures shining like constellations in this strange world!