TSLSILMH Ch 17

Chapter 17

 

By now, Cui Cheng’s poem was also complete. He copied down the final lines, only to turn his head and see that Xie Shu had also already finished. His heart gave a jolt—he had always thought that in verse there were few who could match him, yet he discovered that Xie Shu’s poetic inspiration seemed even higher, his lines written in a single flowing sweep. Unconsciously, Cui Cheng felt a measure of admiration.

Still, Cui Cheng had always been confident in himself. Moreover, the poem he had just written had cost him real effort, exceeding even his usual standard. Surely he would not be outshone.

Since both had now completed their verses, and the incense stick had burned down, Gu Yuanke first approached Cui Cheng’s desk and read aloud slowly:

“Peach blossoms mount the rosy clouds, the spring wind follows water’s flow.

All the tumbling fates of time exhausted—why ask of worldly cares no more?”

As he spoke the lines, the crowd erupted in praise:

“No wonder he is Cui Cheng—truly only a ‘Poetry Demon’¹ could compose such verse!”

The opening couplet, describing blossoms bursting forth and then drifting away, seemed to mourn the fleeting spring. Yet the final turn lifted the entire imagery into lofty scope: “Why ask of worldly cares no more?” Such a line elevated the verse immeasurably.

Gu Yuanke smiled, commending him with praise, before turning toward Xie Shu. He lifted the fresh sheet of paper and recited aloud:

“Bright hues hold the dew’s fresh grace,

Unfolding blossoms glow in red.

One spray of fragrant bloom I seek,

To seize alone the splendor of spring.”

When his voice fell, there was no speech at first, but visible astonishment and approval filled the listeners’ expressions.

In truth, many had already gathered around once Xie Shu finished. Upon seeing the poem, they had been struck by a singular impression: so, Xie Shu’s poetry was of this kind of exquisite elegance!

For years, scholar-poets had mostly written in allegory, using images to convey political-aristocratic ideals or to lament the passing of life. Seldom had they seen such an unrestrained portrayal of an object’s form, and rarer still one executed so vividly—like a vision painted before their eyes.

Literati usually expressed emotions through patriotic or philosophical reflections—so as to appear expansive in scale and lofty in view.

Xie Shu’s verse, however, fixated wholly upon the peach blossom, ending only with delight in its beauty, his words wrapped in tenderness and warmth, full of romantic sentiment. It was a quality none of them had ever quite encountered, and so it felt startlingly new.

The hush lasted but a breath; when one person called out “Excellent!”, voices rose on all sides in praise.

Even Gu Yuanke could not hide the wonder in his heart. Though not a great poet himself, having studied under a renowned Confucian scholar, his eye for discernment was trained.

To compose, in less than the span of one incense stick, a regulated quatrain true to the theme was already no easy feat. Yet Xie Shu had managed a verse at once delicate, precise, each word carefully cut like jade—it spoke of a rare, extraordinary talent.

And yet, Xie Shu had not chosen some grand subject to elevate his poem—as Cui Cheng did—but instead remained intent on describing only the blossom’s beauty. To say: a single spray of fragrance alone could claim all of spring’s glory!

Thus Gu Yuanke concluded inwardly: this man must be sincere and wholehearted by nature.

And so he thought again of Xie Shu’s past, sensing there was more to the story than common rumor.

Now that both poems were read, the true difficulty loomed: how to decide between them.

The spectators burst into heated debate. Some proclaimed that Cui Cheng’s verse reached loftier depths; others argued that Xie Shu’s was more exquisite. Voices clashed, scholars contending fiercely.

Gu Yuanke, intending at first to pronounce judgment, suddenly hesitated and cast a glance at Shao Zhen beside him, signaling with his eyes: You choose.

Shao Zhen was jolted back to attention. He, too, was surprised. He had set the difficult test, never expecting Xie Shu not only to pass easily but to produce such brilliance.

Could Xie Shu truly be a man of hidden ability?

Shao Zhen also understood Gu’s intent. The host was inviting him to award the laurel to Xie Shu.

Yet gripping the jade pendant in his hand, Shao Zhen did not speak immediately. Since childhood in the palace, he had lived without hindrance. Whatever rewards his father and mother gave, though not always the very best, had always made him favored and privileged.

So, before arriving today, he had envisioned whom he wished to recruit—perhaps not the exalted purists of the capital, but at least men of broad talent.

Never had he imagined that the first to catch his eye would turn out to be… a merchant family’s son-in-law!²

Now, though his opinion of Xie Shu was somewhat altered, he still could not wholly overcome his prejudice.

But Shao Zhen was no fool. He still had great ambitions to fulfill. What was the trouble in recruiting such a man, after all?

If this one was already compromised in morals, greedy enough to marry into wealth, then there was no real harm—apply a mix of pressure and favor, win him over when convenient and discipline him when needed.

With the thought settled, Shao Zhen raised his head and smiled. His gaze swept past Xie Shu—a cold assessment—before falling decisively on Cui Cheng:

“In flawless craft of word and rhythm, young Master Xie excels. Yet in subtlety and depth, final honor must go to Master Cui.”

These words left the audience rippling with different expressions. Gu Yuanke sighed to himself; Cui Cheng looked stunned; only Xie Shu remained outwardly calm and thoughtful.

Most of the scholars, however, accepted it—they recognized the established style of poetry still leaned toward Cui Cheng’s manner.

Thus the debate ended. In fact, esteem for this “Zheng Gongzi³” only increased—hidden talent, generous in spirit, clearly a man to befriend.

Shao Zhen smirked inwardly, pleased. He had not noticed that Cui Cheng, the so-called victor, bore little joy.

For in his own heart, Cui Cheng knew he had lost.

Hearing Xie Shu’s lines, he realized for the first time that the world could birth poetry of such rich sweetness, such heartfelt beauty. His own fell short—more labored, less sincere, outdone in artistry.

To be declared winner, then, made him feel only shame.

So when Shao Zhen handed him the jade, Cui Cheng hesitated, then withdrew his hand.

“Master Zheng,” he said humbly, “I am unworthy of this laurel. It ought rightly belong to Master Xie.”

A shadow crossed Shao Zhen’s face. Never had he expected Cui Cheng to be so witless—rejecting what was already granted, even throwing off his favor before all.

But no matter—if Cui refused, then it would pass simply to Xie Shu. Surely he, at least, would be eager to accept.

Just as he thought this, Xie Shu stepped forward.

Yet Xie Shu paid no heed to this “Zheng Gongzi.” In his view, the youth’s wealth and noble bearing were evident, yet recalling his husband’s instructions, Xie Shu had no mind to mingle with Gu Yuanke’s circle.

He turned instead to Cui Cheng:

“Brother Cui, no need for such. Our poetic styles differ, each with its own merit. Let us continue our discussions together in the future.”

Cui’s eyes shone. How rare—to meet someone so open and gracious! And to hear Xie Shu himself invite further discussion—how could he not accept eagerly?

Xie Shu then added with a quiet shift of tone:

“As for this jade pendant, it should indeed go to you, Brother Cui. Only—I have one small favor to ask: could you perhaps let me inherit instead the promise that Master Gu offered?”

Cui, naturally, refused him nothing.

Watching, Shao Zhen frowned secretly. Just as he thought: Xie Shu was far calculating, reaching for more. Let him; he would regret it soon enough.

Meanwhile, all eyes fixed curiously on Xie Shu. What request, exactly, would he make of Master Gu?

Gu Yuanke himself stiffened slightly in realization. If it was truly what he guessed… then Shao Zhen had made a mistake—an irretrievable one.

And indeed, Xie Shu bowed politely:

“Master Gu, today before I entered the Western Garden, I passed a peach tree outside the gates blooming gorgeously. I thought to pick a single branch to enjoy at home. But I had not asked the owner’s leave, and so it gave me pause.”

His words fell. Silence spread—astonishment. This request was so small, so trivial!

Many sighed inwardly. Truly, this Xie Shu was a lover of flowers.

Only Gu Yuanke thought silently: As expected.

He smiled broadly:

“What objection could I have? Yet to take only a single branch—would that not make me appear stingy? Besides, the blossoms inside this garden are finer than those outside. Why not allow me to transplant several trees directly to your home?”

At this, envy surged in the crowd. Such a token would mean direct connection to the Gu family!

But Xie Shu froze ever so slightly. Was it his imagination? It felt as though Gu Yuanke wished deliberately to curry favor with him.

Yet he still shook his head and said openly:

“No need. In truth, this blossom is for my husband at home. Only one branch is all he needs.”

For Xie Shu, to refuse Gu’s well-meant gesture, honesty was easiest. Better to speak plainly than hunt for excuses. And surely, there was nothing shameful—his husband would have no reason to be displeased.

But he did not know how others heard his words.

Everyone in the gathering was aware—he was son-in-law to the Yu family. Many, though silent, often ridiculed him privately. After all, all knew the reason he had married in.

Yet none had expected him to speak so candidly of his husband—in words plainly filled with reverence.

And at once, they recalled his poem just now. The first couplets had painted blossoms, but might they not also refer to a person?

They remembered: that Yu son was famed not only for temper but for extraordinary beauty. To liken him to peach blossoms was fitting.

As for the final line—“One spray of fragrant bloom, to seize alone the splendor of spring”—surely that meant his beloved husband.

It was Gu Yuanke who first fully grasped it. Recalling earlier moments, he sighed inwardly in understanding. So that was it.

He could say no more. But Cui Cheng, ever bewitched by poetry, burst with curious admiration:

“Brother Xie! Then your verse not only depicts a scene—but portrays a person!”

Xie Shu almost shook his head, but then remembered: before setting brush to paper, he had indeed thought of his husband.

After that, he remained only briefly. He had already enjoyed the poetry meeting in full. And mindful that he had shone too brightly—best not invite more envy or entanglements—he excused himself.

He cut from the mountainside one spray of blossoms, perfect in its bloom, and set off toward the city.

By then, dusk had fallen; the sky glowed red with setting sun. Its brilliance poured onto the peach spray in his hand, casting a gauzy veil of shadow and petal.

From the second-floor study window, Yu Chuxi glimpsed the sight—and suddenly stood up.

When Xie Shu reached the tower, his husband awaited on the steps before the door.

At the sight of him, the man’s phoenix eyes narrowed slightly as he smiled.

In that instant, caught by such dazzling beauty, the blossom in Xie Shu’s hand trembled lightly in the gentle spring breeze.

FOOTNOTES

1. “Poetry Demon (詩鬼/詩魔)” – nickname for a poet known for an obsessive devotion and extraordinary ability in verse.

2. “Merchant’s son-in-law” (贅婿) – derogatory term for a man who marries into a wealthy household to live under his wife’s family, often implying lack of independence or virtue.

3. “Zheng Gongzi (鄭公子)” – “Young Master Zheng,” the false identity under which Prince Shao Zhen was concealing himself at the gathering.