The clouds drifted overhead, a gentle breeze blowing, and by midmorning, things outside had already grown lively.

Someone came over to the estate to borrow items, since the owner of the neighboring estate wasn’t in regular residence and things there weren’t kept in constant readiness. With a gathering to be held there today, to entertain distinguished guests, someone came to borrow some stored ice. Shishi lent it. Not long after, someone came bearing a calling card, expressing thanks for the loan and also inviting her to join the gathering next door. Shishi skillfully declined the invitation.

Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng had already returned; while Ning Yi wasn’t paying attention, the two of them had quietly relayed Dong Xiaoyuan’s words to Li Shishi, who responded with a wry smile — this sort of thing was, after all, nothing new. Noticing the commotion outside, before long, while the group chatted, Ning Yi asked directly, “Is there some kind of trouble going on?”

Yu Hezhong laughed. “Not exactly trouble, just a bit tedious.”

Shishi rested her chin on her hand, shaking her head with a smile. “This is just how the capital is. Really, it’s Shishi’s own reputation causing the mischief — Brother Ning needn’t worry about it.”

Chen Sifeng said, “Our Miss Shishi here has long since gotten used to this sort of thing.”

“Just so.” Shishi, ever endearing, nodded without hesitation.

Normally, if such a situation truly arose, Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng’s moods might not have been great, but with Ning Yi around this time, the two of them suddenly felt closer to Shishi, as if the three of them had already been through much together, while Ning Yi was the outsider — a small sense of superiority. As they chatted, talk turned to the various situations Shishi had encountered as the capital’s reigning beauty — the absurd behavior of scholars vying for her attention, funny stories of one side or another slinking away defeated after a confrontation. As the conversation grew lively, even Li Shishi laughed heartily — though even at her most openly delighted, she never strayed beyond the bounds of ladylike grace, maintaining an elegant air, yet her laughter was quite infectious. Ning Yi, having let his guard down, found himself quite cheered up as well.

Chen Sifeng then asked Ning Yi whether he’d often taken part in such affairs back in Jiangning. Ning Yi shook his head with a smile, answering honestly that he’d rarely participated in this kind of thing, and Chen Sifeng didn’t press further.

As the four friends chatted and laughed, Shishi kept an eye on the changes next door, occasionally receiving trays of fruit brought in by maids and getting updates on the situation outside. As time passed, things next door seemed to grow somewhat stranger, not matching the original assumption. More and more people kept arriving, and even Ji Wanqing herself had shown up — this was no longer simple jealousy, but a challenge match.

For a good while, she found herself, like Dong Xiaoyuan, puzzled over the truth of the matter. It was a bit coincidental, but it did look like it could genuinely be nothing more than a spring outing. It wasn’t impossible that Ji Wanqing intended to challenge her before the Dragon Boat Festival — for instance, if the new poem she was currently rehearsing was forced to be performed today by pressure from Ji Wanqing, then by tomorrow, on the actual festival day, there’d be no novelty left for her to show off. But as for challenging her directly, how would that even work? If the other side made a move, she could simply not respond — surely two reigning beauties couldn’t confront each other with one side simply claiming the other had lost face just because they’d brought more people; no one would believe that anyway.

Such thoughts certainly turned over in her mind, and Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng probably assumed she was mulling over these matters even as she laughed and chatted. But what perhaps not even Ning Yi realized was that these thoughts were only passing idly through her mind.

In truth, she was thinking about the lines of a certain ci poem — even feeling it, humming it silently in her heart. So much so that when she looked at Ning Yi, she felt a rather strange emotion stirring within her.

As for worrying about a countermeasure should the other side press forward, she had indeed been thinking about it ever since she first noticed the commotion — but the change had come after she’d seen the ci poem Ning Yi had written. She suddenly found it rather amusing to realize that, really, none of it mattered — being able to suddenly encounter such lines of poetry made today worthwhile enough already; as for whatever the other side might stir up, she was more than capable of handling it, this being far from her first time. And so she kept returning, again and again, to that poem which had stirred such a strange feeling in her.

At first, watching Ning Yi’s expression as he wrote, she hadn’t expected much — he’d casually dashed it off for his wife or a concubine, seemingly not even certain himself whether it was any good. At the time she had read it aloud straightaway, only pausing briefly partway through, slowing down almost unconsciously as she neared the end. The Huanxi Sha form itself was short, just six lines, forty-two characters in all, and the lines flowed smoothly, so she’d finished reading it in a moment — but afterward her mind had gone blank for a good while, and ever since, she kept unconsciously recalling it, murmuring it or humming it under her breath, just as she was doing now.

“Light sweat lightly soaks through the pale green silk. Tomorrow at dawn’s Dragon Boat Festival, bathing in fragrant orchid. Flowing fragrance and rising oil fill the sunlit river…”

“Colored threads lightly wound round the jade-white arm, a small talisman hangs slanted from cloud-dark hair. Meeting a beauty like her… happens once in a thousand years.”

It was hard to say for a moment exactly what made it so good, but she simply couldn’t stop reciting it — and in truth, she knew this phenomenon itself could be summed up in the words “a good poem.” As for the lines themselves, the scenery was there, the vivid, colorful language was there — at first glance, rich and lively and well-placed — but by the final line, everything that had come before seemed to settle, quiet, as if someone were speaking a few enduring yet understated words to a lover. Especially remembering the simple, unassuming way Ning Yi had sat there writing it, everything about it seemed to carry a kind of effortless, self-evident quality. This kind of artistry was the hardest to achieve.

So much so that when her gaze drifted to Ning Yi’s face, the fingers of the hand resting beneath the table were still trembling faintly.

What kind of person is this… He’d really written that so casually just now…

Though she had witnessed Ning Yi’s skill back in Jiangning, she truly hadn’t imagined he could produce something like this so effortlessly. Though it wasn’t fair for her to judge which was superior, Zhou Meicheng’s ci poem written for her or this one — in truth, both were outstanding works, genuinely difficult to rank. But Zhou Meicheng had labored long and hard to produce his masterful piece, whereas Ning Yi, stroking his chin as if slightly bored, had dashed this off — it had genuinely startled her.

Of course, she had no idea what was actually going through Ning Yi’s mind. Ning Yi had by now developed a certain foundation in poetry, but wasn’t yet at the level of being able to judge what constituted a truly immortal classic. This Huanxi Sha he’d written was actually a love poem Su Shi had once written for his concubine Chaoyun — but among the handful of Huanxi Sha poems that had achieved lasting fame through the ages, this wasn’t counted among them. Had Ning Yi not been fond of Su Shi and Xin Qiji’s poetry, and had this poem not been so short, he probably wouldn’t have remembered it at all.

The reason he could recall it in full was that Zhou Bangyan’s poem described scenery similar to this one. Subconsciously feeling that this wasn’t a truly immortal masterpiece, Ning Yi had hesitated a bit, wondering if the line “meeting a beauty like her happens once in a thousand years” was a bit too cheesy — but then thought, well, it was just for the women at home, and they were easygoing enough to tolerate it not being some peerless masterpiece. So he’d written it out.

As though two parallel lines running independently of one another — on this side, in the cool hall, the four of them chatted and laughed in the breeze, and because of that poem, Li Shishi had unconsciously steered the conversation toward the situation of Ning Yi’s wife and concubines at home. Ning Yi, smiling, spoke of his relationship with his wife and concubine, and of his newborn son — all warm and pleasant to hear. Meanwhile, on the other side, at the neighboring estate, the crowd gathering for the spring outing had, by now, mostly all arrived.

Built by the riverside, this village had plenty of trees around it and pleasant scenery. The men and women arriving either strolled along hand in hand or headed directly into the estate; by now, most had gathered here. Members of various literary societies in Bianliang clustered in twos and threes; a few elders of considerable renown in literary circles walked and chatted, pointing things out to one another, and now entered the estate and took their seats. They did, after all, have genuine learning, and their words about how to write essays, how to read books, and this and that kind of experience were helpful to many young scholars. Once the elders were seated, many young men came forward to seek their guidance.

Among them were young men and women from various princely and marquis households. In the capital, though the imperial family held the highest standing, they generally maintained a respectful, modest demeanor toward these elders, not daring to disregard their reputation, nor daring to look down on the young people around them either — after all, everyone wanted a good name. By comparison, provincial nobility tended to be more unrestrained — even if they took a golden melon-hammer out to the street and beat someone to death, in most cases no one would dare investigate, and the local authorities would simply suppress the matter. But if such a thing happened in the capital, it would usually draw a reprimand from the palace.

Aside from these, the courtesans who had come along either as companions or simply to join the fun had, for the most part, already arrived. Ji Wanqing had come this time accompanying Yu Shaoyuan, but she was acquainted with many people here, greeting them one by one. There were also courtesans of varying degrees of fame present, having come along with others but also carrying the responsibility of livening up the atmosphere — playing music, singing, occasionally performing some refined skill at the crowd’s request, all helping to create the mood of a spring outing.

The formal gathering wouldn’t happen until tomorrow, so today’s atmosphere was much more relaxed. The gathering was set up on the riverside portion of the estate, in a broad, roofed corridor — essentially a long land-based pavilion. The river breeze blew in, refreshingly cool. Several elders and distinguished guests took seats at the far end of the corridor, admiring the scenery while casually sharing anecdotes and gossip with the young people around them, or perhaps bits of knowledge about the imperial examinations and official advancement, told as jokes, in a very amiable manner, while women like Ji Wanqing occasionally chimed in to liven up the mood.

Occasionally certain people were called on by name — for instance, Yu Shaoyuan, currently the most talked-about figure, or established young literary talents from Bianliang like Fang Wenyang and Zuo Xiliang. Being singled out and told what flaws remained in one’s writing was, in fact, a mark of being taken seriously; sometimes people would be asked to compose poetry on the spot, or when someone was struck by inspiration and wrote something, others would be asked to critique it. The grounds were fairly spacious, not crowded, so anyone uninterested in this could stroll and admire the scenery, walk about with a companion, or discuss going for a boat ride on the river.

In truth, only a small number of people at this point actually knew the real reason for this gathering. Before long, as the gathering grew lively, with several outstanding poems making an appearance, word gradually began to spread through the crowd that Li Shishi was staying next door…

…

As noon approached, preparations for the meal began, and once again someone came to borrow items from next door. Since Li Shishi was there today, many people had naturally followed along; before long, one of their cooks was borrowed as well. Then another calling card arrived, extending an invitation.

After declining this one, yet another card arrived, and this repeated a fourth time. A maid came in and said something to her, and Shishi frowned. “Tang Yue? Fu Qiushuang? They’ve come too… What are they up to?” Within Fan Tower, Li Shishi wasn’t exactly on good terms with these two, but the idea that they’d conspire together to undermine her in such a setting seemed rather unlikely too — more likely just a coincidence of timing. But by this point, she knew she couldn’t keep declining forever.

She hadn’t wanted to get into any kind of confrontation today, and with some reluctance, she apologized to Ning Yi and the other two, laying the whole matter out openly. “If you’re interested, we could go take a look later… What does Liheng think?”

“Never mind.” Ning Yi was the first to decline. A poetry gathering, after all, would mostly require producing poems and ci verses on the spot — it wasn’t that he had nothing in reserve, but those were meant to be used for promoting the Bamboo Registry shop in the future; he was quite stingy about using them up now. Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng, for their part, hadn’t particularly wanted to go along with Shishi right away either, but seeing Ning Yi decline so bluntly, they couldn’t help but feel he seemed a bit timid, lacking spirit — all this talk of being “First Talent” was probably exaggerated after all.

“Actually, there might be no avoiding it in the end, but let me go check the situation first — we can decide when I get back. It might actually be fun to go take a look later.”

After all, being someone bound up in this world, she couldn’t entirely be her own master in such matters. Bidding farewell to the three men, she left the room, took a breath, and restored her composed, dignified, sincere, and elegant persona as Li Shishi, before going to meet Tang Yue and Fu Qiushuang and heading over with them.

The poetry gathering was just a poetry gathering, nothing especially novel about it. Whether the mood was relaxed or tense made no real difference to a woman of her standing. Though Ji Wanqing was present, she merely exchanged casual greetings with her — Ji Wanqing was half a year older, so she called her “Sister” with a smile — and the two sat down together at a small table, chatting and laughing, or listening to others talk, responding with a few words here and there. Before long, she genuinely grew puzzled.

What exactly were Ji Wanqing and the others up to — was this really just a simple poetry gathering after all?

…

Amid Shishi’s faint puzzlement, the various people present felt quite differently about the occasion.

The scene at present was, in any case, quite lively — especially once Li Shishi arrived, drawing most everyone’s attention this way. Cushions and small tables had been arranged along both sides of the corridor, with people seated together in twos or threes, some standing casually, but most talking, each trying to make some impression in front of the two reigning beauties. As one of the two great beauties of Bianliang, Ji Wanqing had a gentle, amiable temperament, appearing every bit the model of a virtuous wife and mother — tall, slender, and languorous in bearing, most captivating of all, though those who got to know her more closely would find, beneath that gentleness, a queenly grandeur as well. Li Shishi, by contrast, carried an elegant, refined intelligence, slight and graceful in figure, her looks carrying a serene, spiritual quality, as if she could see through anything — those around her often felt an inexplicable clarity and peace, as if they too had gained the wisdom to see many things clearly. When people asked her about tomorrow’s Dragon Boat Festival performance, Shishi smiled and raised a finger. “That… has to be a secret, of course. But there’s a part that goes something like this… dang dang dang dang di di dang…”

She hummed the tune, tapping her finger along, and the people around her began calling out excitedly: “I recognize it, I recognize it…”

“Yi Qin E…”

“No, it’s Qing Yu An, Qing Yu An…”

“Qi Tian Le!”

“It’s definitely Qi Tian Le…”

The crowd chattered excitedly, the mood lively; someone even hummed along with the tune, singing out lines from another Qi Tian Le poem. Shishi sat there smiling radiantly, then turned the topic toward Ji Wanqing, asking her to reveal something of tomorrow’s performance too. Back and forth it went, and someone passed along the poems various people had just written; Shishi hummed them softly. An elder of the Juanwen Society, known as “Elder Mo,” spoke up: “The poem Shaoyuan just composed is excellent — Miss Shishi, do take a look.”

The poem was passed to her, and Shishi sang it softly, watching the man across from her with an expression of surprise and admiration as she sang. Ji Wanqing kept time beside her, and once the singing finished, she glanced instinctively at Yu Shaoyuan before smiling and saying to Ji Wanqing, “Congratulations, Sister… you’ve found your ideal match.”

Yu Shaoyuan sat across from them, smiling without a word, secretly feeling that he’d just sensed a stirring in Miss Shishi’s heart because of his poem. A moment later, he picked up his brush again, beginning to compose yet another poem.

Before long, servants brought out cold refreshments. Among those seated, several elders chatted and laughed with one another — men of considerable renown in Bianliang, with many disciples, such as Elder Mo of the Juanwen Society and Xue Gongyuan; along with Lu Mingfang, famous for his commentary on Mencius; Pan Hongda, who traveled widely establishing schools with students everywhere; and Yan Lingzhong, a man of profound learning serving as an academic supervisor at the Imperial College. At this point, they were discussing what kind of future Yu Shaoyuan, who had just joined their society, might have, while the others discussed the prospects of the various standout young talents present, speculating what official paths they might take, and also debating which of them they might recommend for entry into the Imperial College in the near future. Debating, critiquing, or composing poems themselves — they seemed quite satisfied with this kind of gathering.

These men, in their forties or fifties, hadn’t necessarily had smooth official careers themselves, but most had held office at some point; having concluded they couldn’t rise further, or having retired due to this or that circumstance, they now taught students or pursued scholarship, earning respect from all. They still held various connections and influence — for instance, being able to jointly recommend talented individuals to the court or to various officials each year. All in all, they seemed quite content with their current standing.

Meanwhile, off to one side, a small cluster of young men and women were whispering among themselves.

“Hey, is it about time…”

“They’ve been keeping watch the whole time — he still hasn’t left. It really is about time…”

“Should we actually do this…”

“What if this ends up embarrassing Li Shishi too?”

“You’re bringing that up now? Didn’t you all come just to watch the show? Go stand off to the side then!”

“Maybe he really does have genuine talent…”

“Already checked — not a single poem in over a year, and he’s a matrilocal son-in-law to boot! Tang Qun, I know you’re interested in Princess Pei — go have your family send a proposal, why are you tagging along with us to watch this?”

“I just want to see whether her teacher is really as impressive as she claims…”

“I’ll tell you — even if he does have real talent, what could he possibly produce on the spot that beats his ‘Green Jade Table’? If that poem’s really his, I’ll call myself defeated on the spot. A poem like that — even if it really is his, how long would it take to write something else that good… And besides, after the poetry there’ll be other tests too…”

“I’m betting he’s a fraud, seeking undeserved fame…”

“Even if he’s not, with this big a crowd testing him, he’ll lose face completely either way… Sweeping the field is something that only happens in storybooks — I’m telling you, one man surrounded by a crowd is naturally at a disadvantage!”

“I’m betting fraud too…”

“Fraud — built up a little reputation in the countryside and came swaggering into the capital…”

“I’m just here to watch the show… If you all do this, Princess Pei is going to cry for a long time once she finds out.”

The crowd here was mixed, men and women, and aside from the core few, most had really just come along for the fun of watching a spectacle. Of course, if they really could expose a fraud, they’d be delighted — they were looking forward to the chance to kick a man while he was down, to watch some country bumpkin make a fool of himself — such an appealing prospect.

A moment later, Zhou Qing, the princess from Prince Chong’s mansion, spoke up with a smile: “Miss Shishi, everyone’s having such a good time today — it wouldn’t do to neglect your friends over there. I hear they’re your childhood acquaintances — well, that makes them everyone’s friends too. Why not invite them over to join us?”

Given her status, though others weren’t necessarily afraid of her, they couldn’t ignore her either. When she finished speaking, Elder Mo nodded as well. “That would be excellent. This way, Shishi won’t need to rush off so soon. With both Shishi and Wanqing here today, people will speak even more highly of this gathering afterward.”

Shishi, still turning over in her mind what Ji Wanqing and the others were up to, didn’t refuse. She smiled and nodded. “Very well, I’ll go speak to them and invite them over. Only, I still have practice to do this afternoon, so I might need to leave a bit early. Please don’t hold it against me.”

Though she had considered the possibility that they might target the men beside her, by now she had already established Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng in everyone’s minds as childhood playmates — the other side couldn’t very well force them to compose poetry or mock them for it. As for Ning Yi, her mind was still occupied with that Huanxi Sha, and she hadn’t really felt the need to worry about it. She might have worried a little about Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng, but Elder Brother Ning… it was hard for her to place that worry on him, so she hadn’t thought it necessary.

Before long, Shishi returned to the other estate. Ning Yi and the others had also gathered that it wouldn’t do to keep refusing at this point, and that going over to take a look couldn’t hurt, so they went along together. By this time, the crowd at the poetry gathering was passing around Yu Shaoyuan’s second poem, and some were even murmuring about how extraordinary it was, faint snatches of lines audible: “Who pulled back a thousand feet of snow from the Miluo, washing away the departed souls… The children win their prize, red thread wound round their arms, the tale told fondly year after year…” — drawing much admiration. It seemed this second poem of his had truly stolen the show.

Though they too drew some attention, most of the crowd at the gathering was still busy appraising those poems; only those nearby cupped their hands in greeting to them — about as much as could be considered blending into the gathering. Guided by Shishi, Ning Yi found a seat nearby and sat down, then began looking around, taking in the lively scene.