Yan Zhitui had also drunk quite a bit tonight. After habitually napping for a while, he saw Yun Ye standing before the bronze bells, striking them with his wine cup—casual yet graceful. The old man was greatly pleased by this sight. He detested those convoluted Kucha melodies, but was extremely fond of the grand and refined court music.
The two of them struck the bells from the lowest tone all the way to the highest, then shared another cup together after meeting up.
“Young man, can you sing?” Yan Zhitui asked Yun Ye, removing his hat to reveal his bald head.
“Of course I can. My rendition of ‘Black Panther’ is considered exceptional. As for that Kucha music where you gasp for half a day between breaths—I can’t manage that. Nowadays the Han court is filled with barbarian music, which I don’t care for.”
Yan Zhitui was overjoyed to hear this—he’d finally found someone who shared his views! His own children all loved Kucha music and held it up as classic, so now hearing Yun Ye say he disliked Western Region music, the old man found him increasingly agreeable.
“Didn’t your teacher, that great master, teach you any other songs? ‘Black Panther’ sounds exactly like the kind of impassioned tune young people enjoy. Today is the Lantern Festival—compose something gentle and beautiful for us to sing.”
“Of course he taught me. My teacher’s piece ‘May we live long, sharing the moon’s beauty though a thousand miles apart’ is truly magnificent, held up by others as a sacred text. But it needs a guzheng accompaniment, plus a flute to sound its best.”
“No problem. Master Yan’s guzheng skills are unmatched under heaven, and as for the flute, I can play a tune or two. But without musical notation, how can we perform it? Young man, write down the notation immediately—Master Yan and I just need to look at it once.”
Li Er was quite fascinated by the celestial music of Yun Ye’s teacher. He’d originally come over in a huff, prepared to discipline Yun Ye, but upon hearing that Yun Ye’s teacher also understood music theory, his curiosity was greatly piqued. He decided to listen to the music first before considering whether to get angry.
“I don’t know how—I only know how to sing. I’ve never used this notation thing. What is it?” Yun Ye asked Yan Zhitui with wide eyes. The old man wiped his face and ignored Yun Ye, saying to the Emperor: “Your Majesty, just have him sing it once unaccompanied. You record the musical notation—this old fool’s eyes are dim and hands shake, so I can’t handle this task.”
Li Er agreed with a hearty laugh. Zhangsun immediately ordered palace maids to bring over brush, ink, paper, and inkstone for Li Er’s use. Once Li Er was seated and had picked up his brush, he looked at Yun Ye and said: “The songs of an immortal must have the bearing of an immortal. If you try to fool me with something else, watch out for your hide.”
Yun Ye paid no attention to Li Er’s threats. He’d listened to so much barbarian music he’d become numb—they wanted immortal atmosphere? Su Dongpo’s lyrics combined with later musical arrangement—he refused to believe Li Er wouldn’t detect the celestial quality.
Zhangsun most enjoyed seeing Yun Ye’s nonchalant attitude, because whenever he acted this way, he always performed better than expected. She took the golden mallet and struck the golden bell. The great hall immediately fell silent. A few sleeping old men were also awakened by eunuchs and stared blankly in the direction of the bronze bells.
Before Yan Zhitui sat a thirteen-stringed guzheng. He casually plucked it, completing his sound test, then lowered his head, preparing to record Yun Ye’s melody. Yan Zhitui had always considered Yun Ye a youth who relied on a bit of cleverness to act recklessly, but after events like the woodblock printing and composing poetry, he no longer thought so. People in the world came in hundreds and thousands of varieties—if there were dull ones, naturally there would be extremely intelligent ones too. Nothing strange about that. Yun Ye was simply one of heaven’s favorites.
Yun Ye took a small sip of grape wine to moisten his throat, then addressed everyone in the hall: “Today happens to be the Lantern Festival. I especially dedicate this song as a toast to the health of all you elders.”
Li Er nodded. Whatever other faults Yun Ye might have, he never lacked in propriety. Zhangsun also smiled as she waited for Yun Ye to begin singing.
“When will the bright moon appear? I raise my cup to ask the blue sky. I wonder what year it is tonight in the celestial palace?” After just these four lines, Li Er slapped the table and loudly applauded, interrupting Yun Ye’s singing. These lines perfectly matched his requirements for immortal poetry. Coming back to his senses, he saw Yan Zhitui looking at him with displeasure, and his old face reddened. He waved his hand, gesturing for Yun Ye to continue.
“When will the bright moon appear? I raise my cup to ask the blue sky. I wonder what year it is tonight in the celestial palace. I wish to ride the wind and return there, yet fear the jade towers and crystal halls—the heights are too cold to bear. I rise to dance with my clear shadow—how could it compare to being in the mortal world?”
By the time Yun Ye sang “The moon waxes and wanes, people experience joy and sorrow, reunion and separation—since ancient times, nothing has been perfect,” Yan Zhitui was moved to tears. Though the guzheng had thirteen strings, it could not capture the lofty, distant mood of this song.
When Yun Ye finished, Yan Zhitui said to Li Er: “Your Majesty, these are not words of the mortal realm. This lyric poem washes away all gaudy perfumed sensuality, casting off lingering, circuitous melodies. It makes one climb high and gaze far, raise one’s head and sing boldly—dust cannot stain it, grime cannot touch it. This old fool does not believe anyone in the mortal world can match it.”
Li Er nodded and said: “This is probably the true style of immortals. The musical style differs from everything in our Great Tang—carrying a touch of languor, a touch of helplessness. Calling it celestial music is no exaggeration. I’m wondering what kind of place the White Jade Capital truly is?” As he spoke these lines, Li Er’s gaze had already become distant, his thoughts having long crossed Mirror Lake Moon and flown to who knows where.
“Wake up!” Yan Zhitui heavily swept his hand across the strings. The five tones rang out, immediately startling Li Er from his trance. “Your Majesty, this is merely a lyric poem. Your will has always been firm as iron and stone—why have you fallen into delusion over a single song? Will you not reflect upon yourself?”
In all of Great Tang, probably only Yan Zhitui could speak to Li Er this way. He was the teacher of the realm, qualified to instruct anyone. Li Er quickly rose, clasped his hands and bowed to Yan Zhitui, saying: “Master Yan’s instruction is correct. This student’s mind was indeed bewitched by this song.”
After bowing to Yan Zhitui, he glared fiercely at Yun Ye: “How is it you’re unaffected by this bewitching melody?”
Bewitching melody? Yun Ye pointed at himself, then looked around. Those cultivated old men nearby all had their eyes closed in contemplation, even the Empress was the same. In the distance, those cruder old men were drinking their wine contentedly, seemingly unaffected!
“Bewitching melody? My teacher sang this casually one day when he was drunk and feeling lonely. How did it become a bewitching melody? I’ve sung it dozens of times already without seeing it affect anyone.”
“Young man, you’ve grown accustomed to it, so you don’t notice. Look at those vulgar fellows in the distance—they’re perfectly at ease, at most finding the song pleasant. Now look at these learned scholars nearby—which one isn’t deeply immersed? The more profound one’s learning, the easier it is to be entranced by such songs. But it doesn’t matter—after hearing it a few more times, it will be fine.”
Yan Zhitui waved his hand with a smile, then said to Li Er: “Songs are meant to be heard. Your Majesty, during leisure time from state affairs, listening to this song causes no great harm. Cultivating one’s mind and nurturing one’s nature through heavenly music is also an elegant pursuit. Avoiding food for fear of choking won’t do. If you never listen to this song again in the future, your inner demons will multiply. But if you listen often, comprehending the principles within and savoring its artistic conception—that’s the best of both worlds. Eventually, when you reach this young man’s level, you’ll be able to ignore all seductive illusions. What’s wrong with that?”
“Master Yan speaks reasonably. It’s just that this young man’s broken gong voice ruins the song’s artistic conception. I already have the feeling of burning a zither to cook a crane. After the banquet ends, I’ll rearrange this song to make it a national treasure of our Great Tang.”
Yan Zhitui stroked his mouse-whisker beard and nodded with a light laugh. Stretching lazily, he said: “This old fool is utterly exhausted. Your Majesty, your subject takes his leave.” He then beckoned to Yun Ye, indicating he should help him out.
Zhangsun could only watch helplessly as Yun Ye and Yan Zhitui departed while chatting and laughing. She had prepared to thoroughly question Yun Ye about the White Jade Capital, but it seemed today she wouldn’t get the chance.
Yun Ye’s teacher’s “Rhapsody on the Efang Palace” was still in the Emperor’s study, along with several poems Yun Ye had composed. Add tonight’s soul-stirring song, and Zhangsun was convinced from the bottom of her heart that the White Jade Capital must truly exist, because these writings had completely different styles and meanings. If they were all created by one person, that would be the strange thing—not even an immortal could do it!
After leaving the palace, Yan Zhitui was unwilling to ride his own ox cart and had Yun Ye see him home. After helping the old man onto the carriage, Yun Ye climbed in as well. Upon entering, he immediately saw Yan Zhitui’s bright, sparkling eyes. He hadn’t seen wrong—which hundred-year-old person had eyes like these?
“Young man, does an unknowable realm truly exist in this world? If there really are immortal islands overseas, how beautiful must they be?”
“Old sir, stop dreaming. Penglai, Fangzhang—I’ve been there. They’re just two broken islands. There’s no elixir of immortality on them, only wild grass, snakes drilling about everywhere, and mountains full of monkeys. I was swindled out of quite a bit of money by people.”
Seeing that Yun Ye showed not the slightest hint of joking, Yan Zhitui sighed and said: “So those writings truly don’t belong to the mortal realm. Yun Ye, I hope what you say is correct—that there are no overseas immortal islands, no celestial cave dwellings. Otherwise, the consequences could be dire. I observe that His Majesty’s heart has already been moved. If he were to follow in the First Emperor of Qin’s footsteps, that would be most unfortunate.”
“Master Yan, I can tell you with certainty—those writings are indeed mortal words. Just because you cannot write them doesn’t mean others can’t either. I’ve met a poetry master whose poems pour from his mouth like a fountain. Give him a large jar of wine, and however many poems you want, he’ll produce them on the spot. I believe that if the Great Tang’s golden age continues for another century or so, such figures will surely emerge—and when they do, they’ll be everywhere. At that time, when you look at these poems again, they’ll just be somewhat good poetry. Why does everyone attribute everything to immortals and ghosts? Tell me who’s seen a demon—I’ll go take a look.”
Yan Zhitui looked at Yun Ye strangely and said: “How do you know that in a century or so, such great talents will emerge in large numbers?”
“Old sir, among the subjects I study is one called physics. I used to call it ‘investigating things,’ but later changed it to this name. In it there’s a principle called ‘quantitative change induces qualitative change.’ As the number of scholars increases, so do those who write poetry. Amid the vast ocean of poetry, some particularly excellent verses and poets will always emerge. Nothing strange about it. If you, old sir, could live another hundred years, you’d absolutely see such brilliantly talented figures.”