“Telling stories? This servant has never heard that this could count as a skill.” Xiuzhu’s words were sharp. “Moreover, who can’t tell stories? Three-year-old children, elderly septuagenarians—anyone who can speak can tell stories.”
“That’s why I said good stories.” Mo Zi was unhurried and composed. Since she had come prepared, she wasn’t afraid of anyone causing trouble. “After Mo Zi finishes, if everyone present feels it’s not good, then you can judge Mo Zi as having lost.”
“Ordinary stories don’t count, but good stories do. Girl, only if the story you tell makes us feel it’s better than Miss Xiuzhu’s singing can you win.” Wei Er seized this straw like treasure. With great difficulty, Mo Zi had said she could do something—how could he let this opportunity pass?
After Wei Er spoke these words, not one person raised any objections.
Mo Zi properly curtsied and said in a clear voice, “Mo Zi obeys.”
Though Xiuzhu was unwilling, thinking that Mo Zi certainly couldn’t defeat her with a story, and unable to offend the Wei family masters, she fell silent, slowly sat down, and watched coldly from the sidelines.
“Once upon a time, there was a married couple who had been wed since their youth, growing up together without suspicion. The man’s surname was Zhao, of noble birth. He had once held the position of Grand Secretary and was also a famous poet, painter, and master calligrapher. His wife, Lady Guan, was also born of a prestigious family—a talented woman proficient in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, admired even by the Emperor. After the two became husband and wife, the husband sang and the wife followed, their zither and flute harmonized, and their days were very fulfilling.” Though Mo Zi’s singing was tone-deaf, when telling stories, her voice was gentle and beautiful, flowing smoothly and captivating her listeners.
Wei Er, Wei San, and the others concentrated fully. Even Wei Da set down his teacup.
“Lady Guan loved to paint bamboo—her bamboo was slender and resilient. Grand Secretary Zhao, however, liked to add plump bamboo leaves to his wife’s bamboo. Thin bamboo with fat leaves created an interesting contrast, elegant and charming. The couple’s affection was like these bamboo stalks and leaves, supporting each other, their feelings deep.” When Mo Zi reached this point, expressions of envy appeared on the faces of those singing girls, and even Xiuzhu began to listen attentively.
“After decades of marriage, Lady Guan’s beautiful countenance gradually aged, her spring beauty fading. Though Grand Secretary Zhao’s feelings for his wife remained good, they had become like all couples under heaven—like family members, no longer like intimate companions of youth. Grand Secretary Zhao’s reputation grew ever louder, and more and more people admired his talent. One day, while Grand Secretary Zhao was out visiting, he met a wealthy merchant. This merchant said to Grand Secretary Zhao that he had a daughter, twenty years old, who greatly admired Grand Secretary Zhao’s poetry, calligraphy, and painting in her daily life. If Grand Secretary Zhao was willing, he would marry his daughter to him, even as a concubine.” Mo Zi paused slightly.
A famous singing girl urgently asked, “What happened next?”
Mo Zi smiled. Seeing that Wei Er and Wei San were beginning to appear nonchalant, she continued, “Grand Secretary Zhao was moved. He already had a worthy wife at home, but imagining a talented woman of twenty who could become a beautiful intimate companion by his side—why not?”
Many of the men nodded, while the women showed sorrow and disappointment.
“But this Grand Secretary Zhao was, after all, a gentleman. Having lived with Lady Guan for so many years, he still respected her greatly. After returning home from his visit, Grand Secretary Zhao walked to Lady Guan’s room and hesitated for a long time, ultimately unable to speak. Grand Secretary Zhao, overflowing with talent, had a flash of inspiration—he picked up his brush and wrote a short lyric, then left. Lady Guan, noticing her husband’s strange and troubled manner, grinding ink and requesting paper, knew he had written what he wanted to say on paper. She picked it up and looked—” Mo Zi stopped again.
When telling stories, one needs suspense, timely appetite-whetting, to achieve good results.
“What did Grand Secretary Zhao write?” Wei Er couldn’t wait to ask.
“No matter how he wrote it, that Lady Guan must surely be heartbroken.” Wei San shook his head.
“Grand Secretary Zhao wrote this: I am a Grand Secretary, you are a lady. Have you not heard that Grand Secretary Tao had Peach Leaf and Peach Root, Grand Secretary Su had Morning Cloud and Evening Rain? What fault is it if I take a few more Wu girls and Zhao women! You are already past forty years of age, yet you still monopolize the Hall of Jade Spring.” Mo Zi suddenly realized this era didn’t have Su Shi, and quickly fabricated, “Grand Secretary Su was Grand Secretary Zhao’s earlier colleague, also a famous talent.”
“What excellent lines about monopolizing the Hall of Jade Spring.” Wei San praised the excellent words and beautiful phrases. “This Grand Secretary Zhao’s deep feelings for his wife haven’t diminished. Otherwise, why would he raise the matter of taking a concubine in playful words? In truth, he doesn’t want to hurt his wife.”
“The master speaks correctly.” Mo Zi curtsied again. “Though Lady Guan felt bitter, thinking of their many years of loving devotion and how her husband now wanted to seek new love, when she read the short lyric two more times, she discovered her husband still cared very much for her. The matter of taking a concubine was still uncertain. Therefore, Lady Guan smiled.”
“I’m afraid she won’t be smiling for long. If Grand Secretary Zhao takes a concubine after asking his wife, that’s already the utmost kindness and righteousness.” Even Wei Da opened his mouth to speak.
“Master Wei Da, you’ve guessed wrong there. In the end, Grand Secretary Zhao didn’t take a concubine. The two lived harmoniously together until Lady Guan grew old and ill and passed away. Grand Secretary Zhao was grief-stricken beyond measure—not only did he personally arrange the funeral, he also personally composed Lady Guan’s epitaph.” Mo Zi first stated the ending to arouse curiosity.
“How did this come about?” Wei Er indeed took the bait.
“All because the clever Lady Guan replied to her husband with a short lyric that made Grand Secretary Zhao change his mind, devoting himself wholeheartedly to his first wife, and never marrying another.” Mo Zi smiled slightly.
“Oh? What lyric could have such marvelous effect?” Wei San was an official and also a scholar.
Not only Wei San—everyone became curious.
Mo Zi spoke word by word: “You and I, such deep affection have we, our feelings so abundant they burn like fire. Take a lump of clay, mold a you, sculpt a me. Smash us both together, mix with water and knead, then mold another you, sculpt another me. In my clay there is you, in your clay there is me. With you I share one quilt in life, share one coffin in death.”
“What a bold and clever woman.” Wei Da also understood some poetry. Because this Lock the Southern Branch was simple and easy to understand, novel and ingenious, he was half amazed and half admiring. “Truly wise indeed.”
Wei San even said “good” five or six times in succession. “Share one quilt in life, share one coffin in death. To obtain such a woman—a dignified great man would have no regrets!”
“Precisely so. Lady Guan’s short lyric spanned life and death with emotion deeper than the sea and higher than heaven. Grand Secretary Zhao only felt himself lacking in devotion, while his wife responded with infinite tender affection, without half a word of complaint. From then on, Grand Secretary Zhao never again mentioned taking a concubine and cherished Lady Guan extraordinarily.” Grand Secretary Zhao and Lady Guan were the famous historical figures Zhao Mengfu and Guan Daosheng, and this Lock the Southern Branch was the renowned work known as the “You and I” poem.
“The story is finished.” Mo Zi said calmly. “Whether good or bad, win or lose, Mo Zi has done her best.”
“Based on this short lyric alone, miss, you’ve won.” Wei San’s evaluation was very high.
“Correct, correct. And the two characters in this story are also extraordinary. Even I, an outsider, can hear the wonderful charm in these verses.” Wei Er loudly echoed.
Since these two had spoken well of it, who would disagree? One after another, they praised it.
Though Xiuzhu had been absorbed while listening to the story, envying Lady Guan’s talent and admiring Grand Secretary Zhao’s gentlemanly conduct, to have Mo Zi declared the winner—of course she refused to admit defeat.
“This verse wasn’t composed by her, this story wasn’t created by her—why should she win against me?” she protested.
“Miss Xiuzhu, this melody wasn’t composed by you, these lyrics weren’t written by you. You and I both use one mouth to make sounds—why can’t I win against you?” After Mo Zi finished speaking, she immediately regretted it.
Wei Er laughed heartily. “So it turns out you girl are not only not mute, but also this sharp-tongued and quick-witted.”
Mo Zi sighed long and deeply in her heart—they had forced this out of her!
“Fourth Master, various masters, someone just came to report that the carriages of the Wei Mansion’s mistress, young master, and young ladies have reached Qingfu Lane.” Er Ya entered from outside the building, hands lowered and head bowed, respectful and obedient.
“They’ve arrived early.” Wei Da looked at the sky.
“Coming early is good. My mother must be anxiously waiting.” Qiu Si knew how to speak, and also instructed Er Ya to prepare to open the central gate to welcome the guests.
Mo Zi couldn’t help but feel fortunate—truly they had come early, and at just the right time.