When the Prefect of Qingzhou asked his question, the other officials ceased their conversations and drinking, turning their attention to this exchange with gentle smiles.
Xu Qi An inwardly mocked the Fourth-rank official’s form of address: “Big is big, small is small, and what’s both big and small is the Golden Cudgel…” Outwardly, he returned the smile and replied:
“This humble official doesn’t deserve such praise from Your Excellency. That poem was indeed written by me.”
“Ah, so it was him…” The assembled officials exchanged looks of sudden realization.
When they first heard the name Xu Qi An, they hadn’t immediately made the connection, though the name seemed familiar. After some reflection, they began to form conjectures about the identity of this unusual constable.
As Xu Qi An’s several masterpieces had spread far and wide, even though neither official circles nor the scholarly community had deliberately promoted his reputation, the high-ranking officials present had their ways of gathering information.
No wonder the Provincial Administration Commissioner had rushed over so hastily upon hearing this name.
“Seeing Off the Ziyangju Scholar to Qingzhou at Mianyang Pavilion” had already spread throughout the land. This great scholar, having just entered official service, was preceded by such a famous work, truly benefiting from favorable circumstances.
And all of this was thanks to the constable Xu Qi An standing before them.
“I’ve long admired your reputation. Indeed, you have a distinguished appearance, truly outstanding,” the Prefect of Qingzhou laughed heartily, his words of praise delivered with an air of openness and integrity, demonstrating a refined skill in elevating others.
Too kind, too kind… Not only outstanding among men but also outstanding among… other things. Xu Qi An had to admit that if the positions were reversed and he became the center of attention, the typically detestable official social niceties suddenly became lively and interesting. He found himself wishing it could continue indefinitely.
The Prefect of Qingzhou finished his drink, glancing sideways at Provincial Administration Commissioner Yang Gong in the main seat. This scholar, known for his top-tier abilities and methods, had now shed his usually oppressive official air and appeared relaxed.
At this moment, the Prefect of Qingzhou suddenly remembered the troublesome matter of the warning stele. Writing poetry would be the best choice—simple, eye-catching, and thought-provoking.
However, poetic talent was rare, so it hadn’t been considered. But now things were different; Xu Qi An had arrived.
His timing couldn’t have been better.
This Xu Qi An has considerable poetic talent… The Provincial Administration Commissioner happens to be troubled by the stele inscription, causing all of us headaches… Wouldn’t it be possible to let this talented individual worry about it for us? Hmm, the Provincial Administration Commissioner might have the same idea, but as the highest authority in the province, he can’t voice it due to face considerations… The Prefect of Qingzhou’s mind worked quickly.
With this thought, the Prefect smiled and asked, “Does Master Xu have any other fine works from the capital?”
He had asked casually, intending to push Xu Qi An into the spotlight if he demurred, then join with the other officials to urge him to compose a poem on the spot, naturally providing the “topic.”
Such tactics were common at banquets, usually used for encouraging drinking, but now applied to poetry composition—different means, same end.
…Another attempt to get my poetry for free? Xu Qi An was about to decline, saying he had none, when Inspector-General Zhang swiftly interjected with a smile, “As a matter of fact, there is one.”
The officials present, including the Ziyangju Scholar, looked over with great interest.
What scholar doesn’t appreciate poetry?
Inspector-General Zhang easily reclaimed the spotlight. Taking a sip of wine, he smiled and said, “However, it’s only half a poem. It’s just begun circulating in the capital, so I doubt you’ve heard of it yet.”
“Oh? Only half a poem?”
“Please, Inspector-General, do tell. We’re all ears.”
The officials weren’t dismissive of the half-poem; on the contrary, their curiosity was piqued. This half must surely be an exquisite piece, otherwise, how could it spread in the capital with just half? If it weren’t good, the Inspector-General wouldn’t bring it up in public.
Half a poem… Yang Gong couldn’t help but glance at Xu Qi An before returning his gaze to Inspector-General Zhang.
Inspector-General Zhang set down his cup, cleared his throat with great ceremony, then looked around at everyone and recited in a resonant voice:
“Drunk, unaware the sky lies in the water,
A boat full of clear dreams presses down on the starry river.”
At that moment, a dance performance had just ended, and the music slowly faded away.
A deathly silence fell over the banquet. The officials savored the half-poem, feeling a sense of otherworldly detachment wash over them, unconcerned with fame, fortune, or personal gain and loss.
After a great drunken revelry, lying in a covered boat, gazing at the starry sky above, one’s seven-foot frame pressing down on another river of stars—an air of unrestrained freedom naturally arose.
Some nodded their heads, as if intoxicated. Others couldn’t help but look towards the small pond in the courtyard, where clusters of fiery red lotus flowers grew, though the pond was regrettably too small.
The Ziyangju Scholar clapped his hands and exclaimed, “The lofty conception of this poem must be the pinnacle of poetry in our dynasty for the past two hundred years. Marvelous, truly marvelous.”
He drank three cups of wine in succession, accompanying the poem with alcohol, filled with extreme delight.
After drinking, he fixed his bright eyes on Xu Qi An and asked, “Does this poem have a title?”
Damn… Isn’t exploiting me once enough? Do I have no dignity at all? Xu Qi An almost wanted to spit a mouthful of salt water in his face, but instead said in a deep voice, “It already has one.”
The Ziyangju Scholar looked somewhat disappointed. He nodded without further comment, muttering to himself as if in a trance.
Seeing the moment was right, the Prefect of Qingzhou raised his cup and flatteringly said, “What a coincidence. The Provincial Administration Commissioner was just planning to erect warning steles in front of various government offices, but the inscription hasn’t been decided. I wonder if Master Xu might compose a poem for this purpose?”
At these words, almost everyone instinctively looked towards Xu Qi An.
The Ziyangju Scholar neither supported nor objected, simply smiling silently as he watched the young constable.
Do you want a poem for just one cup of wine? I’m not that kind of person… Xu Qi An sighed:
“This humble official is accompanying the Inspector-General to investigate a case in Yunzhou. With an uncertain journey ahead and a heart full of worry, how could I have the energy or mood to write poetry? My apologies, gentlemen.”
The Qingzhou officials were immediately disappointed. The Prefect, growing anxious, quickly said, “Master Xu, your poetic talent is astounding. Please don’t be so modest.”
Xu Qi An shook his head helplessly and raised his cup to drink.
The Ziyangju Scholar pondered briefly, then removed the jade thumb ring he was wearing and said solemnly, “The bandit problem in Yunzhou is indeed severe; this journey will be dangerous. Ning Yan, keep this jade ring safe. I’ve worn it for many years, nourishing it with righteous energy. It can ward off evil.”
Xu Qi An’s gaze immediately fell on the ring. He caught a fleeting glimpse of clear energy, reminding him of something Chu Caiwei had once said.
There are three types of magical artifacts in the world: one type is crafted by the array masters of the Sitian Directorate; another type is formed naturally through coincidental circumstances; the last type acquires certain mystical properties by absorbing the aura of high-ranking powerhouses over time.
This jade ring belonged to the third category.
Great sir, don’t treat me like this tonight… Xu Qi An hurriedly accepted it, carefully tucking it away. After a moment’s consideration, he said, “I’m not sure why, but suddenly inspiration has struck, and I’ve composed a poem.”
Didn’t you just say you weren’t in the mood to write poetry? The officials looked at him in confusion. After a few seconds, understanding gradually dawned, and their expressions became rather strange, though they tacitly agreed to keep silent.
The Ziyangju Scholar’s smile remained unchanged. “This official is all ears.”
Xu Qi An nodded, having already made his choice. He decided to use the four lines of poetry he had employed during the aptitude test in the Heart-Questioning Gate.
Because no poem was more suitable for this occasion than that one. If he remembered correctly, this poem was also called “Inscription on the Warning Stone,” perfectly fitting to admonish the officials.
He took a sip of wine, the poem floating to the surface of his mind, his mood seemingly returning to the grand aspirations he had felt at the Heart-Questioning Gate.
Unable to resist standing up, he first looked at Ziyangju Scholar Yang Gong and said softly:
“You eat your salary.”
Then he turned to Inspector-General Zhang:
“The people’s fat and marrow.”
Next, he slowly swept his gaze over the assembled officials, his voice suddenly becoming stern:
“The common people are easy to oppress.”
Finally, he looked up to the sky, his whole being seeming to become excited as he said loudly:
“But Heaven is hard to deceive!”
Unconsciously, his voice had incorporated the Lion’s Roar of the Buddhist tradition, resounding in the ears of the officials like the evening drum and morning bell, startling and sobering.
Clang… The sound of wine cups shattering rang out continuously.
Many officials, either guilty or ashamed, faced this unranked constable as if confronting a severe superior, not daring to even breathe loudly.
The few with clear consciences straightened their backs, and their spirits stirred.
“Excellent poem, excellent!” The Ziyangju Scholar stood up, slapping the table. This great scholar’s emotions seemed somewhat out of control, giving the impression not of a seasoned and skilled regional official, but of a young scholar newly entered into officialdom, full of vigor and righteousness.
“If I had been able to shout this poem in court back then, venting the frustrations in my heart, how could I have become dejected for a whole year? Xu Ning Yan, ah Xu Ning Yan, you are truly the seed of scholarship.”
In the courtyard, the dancing girls enduring the cold wind blinked their eyes, curiously observing the only young man at the banquet.
With such spirit, no wonder he could perform the act of beheading a silver gong… This poem must have frightened quite a few people… Inspector-General Zhang sighed, and seeing the atmosphere had become somewhat tense, he spoke to change the subject:
“The Provincial Administration Commissioner speaks truly. Ning Yan, it’s a pity you didn’t continue your studies back then.”
Xu Qi An hiccupped from the wine and said helplessly, “Second Uncle thought I was more suited to martial arts, so he didn’t have me continue my studies.”
Hearing this, the officials felt quite indignant, thinking to themselves that his Second Uncle was truly inhumane, wasting such a talented scholar. If Xu Ning Yan had become a scholar, the literary world of Da Feng would not have been so desolate.
…
As the banquet dispersed late into the night, a slightly tipsy Xu Qi An came to the edge of the pond to pick some of the bright red lotus flowers.
This lotus variety was extremely unusual, with only six petals, each plump and translucent—a species he had never seen before.
“This lotus is called the Red Lotus, also known as the Winter Lotus. It’s unique to Qingzhou,” the Ziyangju Scholar approached, hands clasped behind his back, standing to one side.
“It blooms in October and doesn’t wither until spring of the following year. The lotus seeds it produces are warm and can be used medicinally.”
…A lotus that blooms in winter, I’ve never seen such a thing in my previous life. Xu Qi An smiled and said, “Blooming and bearing fruit in the depths of winter, warm in nature—quite the opposite of the season. Can’t these red lotuses be transplanted to the Central Plains?”
“They wouldn’t survive,” the Ziyangju Scholar said, seemingly with deeper meaning. “The bandit problem in Yunzhou is also unique to that region. It couldn’t persist in any other province. Do you know where the root of this problem lies?”
Isn’t this a historical legacy issue? Xu Qi An’s mind stirred, and he bowed formally: “Please enlighten me, sir.”
He didn’t call him ‘Your Excellency,’ but ‘sir,’ positioning himself as a student.