Chapter 25: Celebrating with the People and Watching the Dragon Boat Race – The Star of Literature Descends upon He Xia

When their daughter returned home, Master Xu and his wife were naturally all smiles. Gazing at their elegant and dashing son-in-law, and hearing from his wife that their daughter and son-in-law had consummated their marriage, Master Xu began envisioning the day he would cradle a plump grandson in his arms next year.

“My good son-in-law, your mother-in-law and I are especially delighted that you’ve come home today,” Master Xu declared, hosting a lavish midday feast at the Xu residence for the young couple. After a few brief words, the meal commenced.

“This is a family gathering—how wonderful to have our daughter and son-in-law here. Next year, you must give me a fat little grandson,” Madam Xu said with a beaming smile.

“Mother—” The young mistress’s face flushed instantly, and she tried to stop her mother.

“Let’s eat, let’s eat,” Master Xu hurriedly interjected.

Young Master Shen looked at his affectionate in-laws with genuine delight. Some say marriage is always the joining of two families, and with the union of the Shen and Xu households, not only were both families brimming with joy, but all the neighbors along Bamboo Alley shared in the happiness.

Now, on the Dragon Boat Festival, Magistrate Huo paid a special visit to Lake Xiao to witness the grand dragon boat races. Accompanied by his wife and goddaughter, they sat in a pavilion, watching as the strapping men on the boats paddled in perfect unison to the drumbeats—a sight that left Miss Li utterly amazed.

On the western bank of Lake Xiao, beside the canal embankment, stood the Han Marquis Fishing Platform, towering with solemn grandeur. To its south lay the Imperial Poetry Pavilion; to the north, the Temple of the Compassionate Mother, detailed in the “Annals of Han Xin.” Nearby was the Reed Pavilion. The northwest of the lake, known in ancient times as the Mei Quarter, was densely populated. A stone causeway stretched across the lake, making it convenient for pedestrians and earning the nickname Lotus Street.

Around Lake Xiao, famed gardens were built, seldom left idle by visitors. Hundreds of acres of water fields filled the lake, lush with wild rice shoots and bulrushes. The scenery was enchanting—fishing boats plied back and forth, competing with crows and ducks; the small dam’s teahouse echoed with flutes in the evening breeze; the bells of Puguang Zen Temple tolled at sunset; pleasure boats with singing and music responded to one another across the water.

Through all four seasons, the landscape was like a painting: after a summer rain, or with winter snow freshly cleared, or when spring’s breeze brought new green to the willows, or autumn’s water turned the reeds grey—the vast islets and misty waves brought a sense of tranquility and joy to all who beheld them.

“Father, Mother, this is truly exhilarating!”

“Of course, darling. You’ve lived in the north and haven’t seen such things. On the fifth month’s festival, we race dragon boats, eat sticky rice dumplings, and wear silk charms,” Madam Huo explained with a smile.

“Mother, look over there—how lively! It seems they’re reciting poetry,” Miss Li said with curiosity.

Magistrate Huo took up the tale: “Lake Xiao is a gathering place for scholars and gentlemen. They’re playing the ‘Flying Flower Game,’ exchanging verses. I can tell you, those who come to Lake Xiao are either wealthy or noble—our county takes great pride in that.”

A branch of the canal from Hexia led straight into Lake Xiao, and the merchants of the old town often vied with one another to partake in such cultured pursuits.

The lake sparkled with sunlight as pleasure boats crowded the waters, laughter floating in all directions. Not far away, long lines of towed barges churned along the canal, and startled birds burst from the reeds into the blue sky.

“Daughter, Lake Xiao holds a marvelous legend,” Magistrate Huo said, gently waving his feather fan.

“Godfather, tell it to me,” Miss Li replied, coming over to massage his back. “Let me give you a back rub.”

“Very well.”

Legend had it that a crab spirit, having harassed the maidens of heaven, so infuriated the Jade Emperor that he struck it down into the mortal world, where it fled to Lake Xiao in the town of Hexia. The scenery of Lake Xiao was charming—lotuses danced on the surface, fish darted in the shallows, willows swayed on the banks, and the local people lived in perfect contentment.

But the crab spirit began to stir up storms. The lake no longer bustled with boats, the waters turned muddy, the lively fish vanished, reeds yellowed, and lotus leaves withered.

Still unsatisfied, the crab spirit summoned wind and rain, collapsing houses and flooding fields, leaving the people homeless. He then disguised himself as an old man, floating on a cloud, and declared to the people, “If you do not wish for floods, you must, each year at the Double Ninth Festival, select three beauties and offer them to the crab spirit, casting them into Lake Xiao.”

Magistrate Huo’s vivid storytelling sent a chill through Miss Li, who seemed to relive the tragedy of her parents’ deaths. “Was there no one who could defeat it?”

“Listen on,” Magistrate Huo replied. By now, a crowd had gathered, eager to hear the tale.

To avoid floods, the people obeyed the crab spirit’s demands, and many innocent girls lost their lives. Year after year, the practice continued, and soon it was Double Ninth again. On this day, the town chief stood atop the high altar and called out, “The ritual begins! Bring forth the beauties!”

“Stop!” came a sudden shout from the crowd.

It was none other than Wenlou, who leapt onto the altar in a single bound, kicked the town chief aside, and set the three maidens free. “What crab spirit? We can’t allow it to harm our people any longer!”

Suddenly, thunder cracked across the clear sky, storm winds raged, and torrential rain fell—the people knew at once the crab spirit had arrived.

A colossal crab spirit appeared before Wenlou. Seizing a blade weighing hundreds of pounds, he fought the monstrous crab in a fierce battle. After a hundred exchanges, Wen the hero struck the crab’s vital point, cleaving it in two. But even as it died, one mighty claw pierced deep into Wenlou’s thigh, and blood poured forth.

“What happened then?” someone asked.

“Wenlou died. In his memory, each year on the Double Ninth, people go to the lake to catch crabs, break off their iron claws, crack open their shells, scoop out the golden roe and white flesh, mash it to a paste, wrap it in dough, and make crab roe buns in his honor.”

“Godfather, so the Wenlou soup buns I had the other day are named after this tale?”

“That’s right, Wenlou Soup Buns—”

Before he finished, the crowd chorused, “You can’t wait to eat them!”

Laughter rang out.

Thus the lively Dragon Boat Festival came to an end, and the ancient town of Hexia returned to its usual vitality. Summer faded into autumn, autumn into winter, and the seasons passed in the blink of an eye.

In the second year of the Zhengde era, 1507, on an ordinary day, the commercial street of Hexia in Shanyang County, Huaian Prefecture, was quiet and the lanterns dim. The shop assistants lounged against the doorframes, stretching their stiff muscles from maintaining professional smiles all day.

Young Master Shen Wei saw off the last customers and closed up as usual. He took a prepared notice, dabbed it with paste, and stuck it to the door: “Family matters—closed for three days.” His wife was about to give birth.

Shen Wei crouched down to tie his pant legs, then sprinted home with all his might. The exercise sent his blood rushing and swept away his fatigue.

As he approached, the lights of home glowed ever warmer and softer. The thought of becoming a father filled Shen Wei with a surge of pride.

“Last year, auspicious omens appeared, and the fortune-teller said the Star of Literary Talent had descended. Do you remember?” an old man stroked his beard.

“Look—up at the sky!”

Everyone instinctively glanced westward. Sure enough, a green dragon was clearly visible, suddenly soaring through the clouds straight toward Bamboo Alley.

Thunder rolled across the heavens, and the neighbors all came out to see. As they wondered at the spectacle, a baby’s cry rang out from deep within the Shen residence on Bamboo Alley. The thunder ceased.

The midwife lifted the curtain and announced to Master Shen, “Congratulations, sir! The young mistress has given birth to a son.”

Madam Shen rushed to the altar and pressed her palms together before the Bodhisattva statue. “The Bodhisattva has shown mercy—Amitabha!”

“Set off the firecrackers!” Master Shen grinned from ear to ear, ordering the steward at once.

Amid the crackle of firecrackers, Young Master Shen raced home, nearly stumbling in his haste. At the door, a servant congratulated him, “Young master, the Shen family’s little heir has been born!”

“Wonderful, just wonderful!”

“My dear, you’ve endured so much,” he said, his breath still uneven, as he sat by the bedside to wipe his wife’s brow. “We have a son.”

“Yes, we have a child now. You should name him,” his wife replied.

“I’ve long decided—his given name will be Kun, courtesy name Baisheng, and his literary name Shizhou.”

Little Ling clapped her hands. “Shen Kun—that’s a fine name!”

“Steward, inform the Xu family to come for the celebration tomorrow,” Master Shen instructed.

“Yes, sir, I’ll see to it at once.”

What will happen next? To find out, stay tuned for the next installment.