The four politely entered, with the sweeping servants following to arrange seats, and a young maidservant came out to serve tea. Wei Shubin had noticed Ouyang Xun’s heavy southern accent earlier, so the tea service wasn’t surprising, but seeing Li Yuangui drink without hesitation made her glance at him again.

After exchanging pleasantries, they explained their purpose: Chai Yinglu and Li Yuangui requested Ouyang Xun to authenticate Yiniang’s handwriting, presenting the farewell letter and poetry copies they had brought. Hearing this was a case ordered by Empress Zhangsun, Ouyang Xun didn’t refuse. He opened the outer envelope and laid out the farewell letter and three poetry copies side by side on his desk for careful examination.

Seeing the shaky handwriting with its straight horizontals and verticals, the white-haired elder sighed heavily. Li Yuangui explained somewhat awkwardly from the side:

“Princess Linfen lost her father early and had no proper female education. She never learned proper writing methods, Master Ouyang…”

Presumably, Ouyang Xun had abandoned his family to live in seclusion here to focus on calligraphy without worldly distractions. He spent his days studying ancient masterpieces and contemporary excellent works, so suddenly seeing such childish scrawling must have been offensive to his eyes—just as the current emperor had criticized Li Yuangui’s calligraphy.

However, before the young prince could finish, the old man impatiently waved his hand to signal “silence,” his expression stern, completely different from his earlier affable manner.

Such unparalleled masters, when focused on their expertise, often become arbitrary and dislike interruptions. The four young people wisely fell silent, sitting quietly, not daring to make a sound even while drinking tea.

Ouyang Xun examined the four papers spread on his desk from various angles, sometimes frowning in thought, sometimes shaking his head and muttering, appearing greatly puzzled. This was unexpected to Wei Shubin – she felt even she could see that the handwriting on all four papers came from the same person. Could this most famous calligrapher of their time not determine this? Or had he discovered some subtle clue that ordinary people couldn’t see, suggesting the farewell letter might have been forged in Yiniang’s hand?

Finally, the old man mumbled: “Strange…”

“Strange?” Chai Yinglu carefully echoed in a low voice.

“These four papers were indeed written by the same person, without question,” Ouyang Xun sighed. “What’s strange are two points.”

“Please elaborate,” the four young people sat up straight.

“First, while the handwriting is childish, showing the writer wasn’t skilled, the farewell letter’s phrases… though not particularly refined, use many classical references and parallel prose. It’s like… someone who often writes epitaphs, or has read many epitaphs, but only roughly understands writing without grasping the meaning – very much like an amateur scholar. Fourteenth Young Lord just said Princess Linfen lived in seclusion at Ganye Temple for nine years – where did she learn these classical references?”

The four looked at each other, none able to answer. They had discussed this before, but since no one knew exactly how Yiniang had learned reading and writing, they couldn’t be certain what her literary level should have been. Ouyang Xun was an expert who regularly wrote monumental inscriptions and epitaphs – his observations naturally had a basis.

“What’s the second point?” Li Yuangui asked.

“Second, the writing style in these four papers is too emotionally similar,” the white-haired elder tapped the farewell letter with his bony knuckle and sighed. “As they say, ‘Joy shows in music, sorrow appears in sighs, emotions move to expression, taking meaning from wind and elegance; Yang’s expansion and Yin’s contraction originate from Heaven and Earth’s heart.’ The wonder of writing comes from within, expressing changes through brush strokes, and matching emotions on paper – multiple strokes side by side should show different forms; many dots in a row should have varying bodies. This principle applies regardless of skill level. The Princess was a young maiden – when copying Qi and Liang’s poetry, her thoughts wandering, feeling romantic, her writing naturally became soft and careful. But this farewell letter… by common sense, when writing it, she should have been either dejected or emotionally agitated, making her strokes hesitant and sluggish. Yet the details of this letter’s writing show hardly any difference from the poetry copies – isn’t this strange?”

The four young people looked at each other, and Wei Shubin suddenly thought of something: “Master Ouyang means that though Princess Linfen wrote the letter, when writing it she had no intention to die, but rather… was feeling romantic?”

“Judging by the handwriting, that’s correct,” the white-haired elder nodded.

Wei Shubin turned to Chai Yinglu: “Sister Ying, remember? After we found those poetry copies in Yiniang’s former residence, we asked her Fourth Sister, who said the original book was lent to Yiniang by Princess Hailing…”

“I remember now,” the Daoist priestess nodded. “The two were very close, even closer than Yiniang was with her stepmother. Fourth Aunt was beautiful and talented, quite a romantic figure in her day, famous throughout the capital before marriage. As for Yiniang’s farewell letter…”

She trailed off, lost in thought. Li Yuangui, sitting opposite the two women, suddenly said: “There’s another piece of handwriting evidence related to this case that I want to examine, though we won’t need Master Ouyang to authenticate it.”

“What evidence?”

Li Yuangui’s thin lips curled in a bitter smile. Just as he was about to answer, another loud boom came from outside the paper window, making their ears ring. The four young people were startled again, but Ouyang Xun’s old face remained unconcerned.

“What on earth is going on?” Chai Yinglu was the first to lose patience. “Master Ouyang needs peace to practice calligraphy – how can this racket be allowed? Let’s go see who’s…”

“Ah no, no, don’t concern yourselves with that,” the white-haired elder stopped her. “You can’t do anything about that one – you’ll just end up embarrassed. Young people like to play and make noise, let them be… At least they’re quiet at night, and they even provided several dozen jin of lamp oil, heh heh heh…”

Seeing Ouyang Xun stroke his beard with a self-satisfied smile as if having gotten a great bargain, the four didn’t press further. Wei Shubin silently thought she’d only heard of mice climbing up to steal lamp oil, could monkeys also…

With the handwriting authentication complete, Li Yuangui and Chai Yinglu led in standing to thank Ouyang Shugen and respectfully bid farewell. Li Yuangui seemed particularly urgent, politely declining the host’s dinner invitation and quickly walking toward the grove’s exit once outside. Chai Yinglu called after him:

“Fourteenth Uncle, where are you going?”

“The Imperial City, Court of Judicial Review,” the Prince of Wu answered without hesitation.

“What?” The other three cried out together, “Are you mad?”

Note: Ouyang Xun was the foremost of the “Four Early Tang Masters,” and his “Ou Style” is a template familiar to all calligraphy learners. The attached image shows his famous work “Jiucheng Palace Sweet Spring Inscription,” written by Ouyang Xun to Wei Zheng’s text – no calligraphy student would dare say they haven’t seen it… However, while this elder’s calligraphy was wonderful, his appearance was quite frightening, ugly enough to shock the Central Committee…

The Old Tang History Biography 139 says Ouyang Xun “was extremely ugly… When Gaozu was of low status, he took him as a guest. After ascending the throne, he was repeatedly promoted to Giving Affairs Middle. Xun initially studied Wang Xizhi’s calligraphy, but later gradually changed his style, with vigorous and dangerous brush strokes, becoming unparalleled in his time. People who obtained his letters all took them as models. Goguryeo greatly valued his writing and once sent envoys requesting it. Gaozu sighed: ‘I didn’t expect Xun’s calligraphic fame to spread so far to barbarian lands. Seeing his works, they must think his form is tall and impressive!'”

This was Li Yuan joking about Ouyang Xun’s appearance, saying that seeing his beautiful writing, one would think he was tall and magnificent. From this, we can know that Master Ouyang was rather small and thin. As for what his face looked like, during the Zhenguan years he and the fat Zhangsun Wuji wrote poems mocking each other. Zhangsun Wuji said of him: “Raised shoulders form mountain characters, buried neck won’t show head. Whose Unicorn Gallery above, painted this monkey instead.”

That wasn’t all – later someone wrote a supernatural novel “Supplement to Jiang Zong’s White Ape Story,” writing that when Ouyang Xun’s father Ouyang He was campaigning in the south, his wife was abducted while pregnant by a white ape spirit, and gave birth to a son who looked like a monkey, “who grew up to be learned and skilled in calligraphy, becoming famous in his time”… This novel was quite popular, considered one of the early representative works of Tang tales. The specific author and time of creation are unknown, and it’s unclear whether it was randomly made up by someone who had seen Ouyang Xun in person during the Zhenguan period.

However, Ouyang Xun’s personality should have been quite easy-going and fond of jokes. Of his three surviving poems, two mock others – one is the above mutual mockery with Zhangsun Wuji, saying the Imperial Uncle was so fat that “Head shrunk connects warm back, loose pants fear cold belly. Just because the heart is muddled, Therefore face is round as well.” The other mocks Duke Song Xiao Yu, this Southern Dynasty weakling’s poor archery: “Swift wind blows slow arrow, Weak hands control strong bow. Wanting high turns low instead, Should west go east instead? Ten times all hit the ground, Both hands lift only air. Ask who did this deed, It’s Duke Song declared.”