Chapter 86: Seven words brought this far, I am not alone on my path

"Chunshui, have you produced any new works recently?"

Kong Rui was a regular patron of the Emerald Feather Pavilion and one of Chunshui's most intimate guests, having heard her breathless sighs far more often than her singing. Chunshui gently smiled and said, "I just received a new poem yesterday. I have set it to music, but I haven't sung it yet, so there may be some imperfections. If my lord does not disdain it, Chunshui dares to sing it for you all to appreciate."

The sycophantic young lord You Shu laughed, "Not sung yet? Then aren't we fortunate enough today to witness the breaking of the jade melon?"

The phrase "breaking of the jade melon" originated from the Six Dynasties Yuefu song *The Jade Song*, which originally referred to a woman reaching the age of sixteen, but gradually evolved into a euphemism for losing one's virginity. While You Shu's remark was not overly vulgar within the context of a pleasure house, Chunshui was nevertheless a renowned courtesan whose primary appeal lay in her vocal artistry, not someone anyone could casually touch. Hearing such words spoken to her face made her expression stiffen slightly with discomfort.

Kong Rui chuckled, "It seems You Shu has been struck by tender thoughts... Well then, at our gathering today, if you can compose a fine poem, I will fund it and invite you to spend the night with Chunshui."

Zhang Mo, who had been sitting quietly to the side without uttering a word, frowned slightly at these remarks. He glanced at Chunshui, yet he ultimately said nothing. Chunshui's gaze lingered on Kong Rui for a moment; seeing that he was not joking, she slowly lowered her head. After a long while, she looked up and smiled coquettishly, "Indeed! If my lord composes a fine poem, I shall willingly offer myself to him!"

"Splendid! Scholars and beauties, our Clear Song Society has gained another delightful tale for the future!" Yuan Tan and Ming Chu chimed in playfully, "Lady Chunshui, you cannot show favoritism solely to You Shu. What if the rest of us compose fine poems as well?"

Chunshui beamed with a smile as bright as the autumn moon, replying, "That puts me in a difficult spot. This humble maid has only one body; how could I possibly serve several lords? Why not make a wager? Whichever lord's poem is judged the finest, I shall accompany him."

"That is the fairest way!" You Shu stood up with a laugh and said, "My poetic talent is the poorest here, so I shall cast a brick to attract jade, offering my clumsy attempt first for you brothers and the lady to judge."

He paced back and forth a few times and recited:
*"Once we feasted at the Peach Blossom Gourd,*
*A single tune of the luan and phoenix soared.*
*I long remember the time we bade adieu,*
*The fading moon and heavy falling flowers anew."*

"Superior!" Yuan Tan clapped in praise, "Deep within the peach blossoms, a tune of the luan and phoenix—unforgettable is the profound emotion of the beauty. Yet at the parting hour, the moon wanes and the flowers fall, how heartbreaking must that be? The portrayal of both emotion and scenery fully expresses his heartfelt devotion to Chunshui. Knowing I fall short, I shall not shamelessly contend with you!"

"You Shu's poem is excellent, and Yuan Tan's appreciation is equally fine. We admit we cannot match this!" The others chimed in, making it clear they intended to hand Chunshui over as You Shu's reward.

Unexpectedly, Ming Chu was unwilling to give up. He said, "I chanced upon some fine lines last night and cannot resist the itch. Allow me to recite them as well for you brothers to judge." He stood up, standing with his hands behind his back, and chanted:
*"The west wind blows against the gauze curtains,*
*The painted pavilion holds a chilly moonlight.*
*Full of tender affection and lingering shyness,*
*Hesitantly she twists the knot of our hearts in unison."*

The others exchanged glances, unsure of what to do. This poem was on par with the previous one—neither truly belonging to the highest tier. However, their literary society was formed not to compete for superiority, but to huddle together for warmth and present a united front. Therefore, supporting either one would inevitably offend the other, leaving the room in a heavy silence.

As the leader of the society, Kong Rui could speak where others remained silent. With a smile, he said, "Ming Chu's poem uses the technique of feigning reluctance before praise, capturing the exquisite flavor of a lady's chamber. I consider it to be of the highest grade."

Ming Chu chuckled, cupped his hands, and said, "You Shu, I accept your concession!"

You Shu was not annoyed. With a roll of his eyes, he said, "Our own judgments don't count. Today, Chunshui shall act as our Poetry Inspector. Whichever poem she judges to be the finest shall be the finest, and no one else may dispute it!"

Yuan Tan stared in astonishment, "Poetry Inspector?"

"Drinking games have wine inspectors, so composing poetry naturally requires a Poetry Inspector. Otherwise, how are we to determine the victor?"

Finding his proposal amusing, everyone agreed to let Chunshui act as Poetry Inspector to grade the two poems. As a mere courtesan of lowly status, Chunshui would find it inappropriate to elevate anyone above the others. Just as she was caught in a difficult dilemma, she suddenly heard Zhang Mo say, "I, too, shall join in the fun!"

Kong Rui was momentarily stunned, then broke into a broad smile. "It is rare indeed for Buyi to have such refined interests! Quickly now, I am eager to partake."

Zhang Mo sat motionless, lightly tapping his fingers against the low table. Within moments, his poem was finished, and he chanted:
*"The spring wind blows gently, stirring a knight's chivalrous thoughts,*
*The weather is serene and verdant, the air pure and harmonious.*
*Peaches hold red calyxes, orchids bear purple buds,*
*The morning sun shines brightly upon the garden's blooms.*
*Rolling up window screens and tying curtains to form a jade banquet,*
*Matching the zithers of Qi, the flutes of Qin, and the strings of Luni.*
*A thousand pieces of gold to purchase a smile, buying the prime of youth."*

When the recitation ended, absolute silence fell upon the room. At that time, five-character verses were esteemed; seven-character regulated poetry, if not dismissed as unrefined, at least failed to enter the mainstream. Whenever literati composed poetry, they regarded five-character verses as supreme, rarely willing to write seven-character poems.

Yet, purely in terms of poetic sentiment, Zhang Mo's piece surpassed those of You Shu and Ming Chu by an immeasurable margin. Chunshui no longer needed to deliberately avoid meeting his gaze; she stared straight at Zhang Mo as two trails of pearly tears streamed down her cheeks. "The three lords are all renowned figures of Zhuji, and their poetry is naturally exceptional. Yet this humble maid, of shallow understanding, listened closely to the lines: 'Matching the zithers of Qi, the flutes of Qin, and the strings of Luni / A thousand pieces of gold to purchase a smile, buying the prime of youth.' These two lines sum up the entire fate of women like us. Hearing them brings me to tears!"

Poetry exists to convey emotion; what could be more persuasive than a beauty's tears? Zhang Mo won this round of competition without a shadow of a doubt. Normally, losing to the Five-Colored Dragon and Luan—a figure renowned across the Three Wus—was no disgrace. However, because a romantic night with the beauty was at stake, You Shu grew agitated. He sprang to his feet and declared, "A five-character verse loses to a seven-character one—what more is there to say? Ming Chu, let us leave!"

Ming Chu hesitated, glanced at Kong Rui's expression, and said, "You Shu, we are merely discussing poetry among friends. Do not act out of sheer impulse!"

"You! Hmph!"

You Shu swung his sleeves, intending to storm out. Kong Rui rebuked him, "You Shu, the Clear Song Society has just been established, and you are already trying to cause a scene? Sit back down. If word gets out, it will only make others mock us."

Though fuming, You Shu still refused to let the matter rest. At this point, only Zhang Mo stepping forward to offer polite pleasantries could have soothed You Shu's ruffled feathers. Instead, Zhang Mo merely sighed, stood up on his own accord, and said, "I have matters at home and must take my leave first. Pray, continue your enjoyment."

Without a moment's hesitation, he turned and headed for the door. Kong Rui opened his mouth to urge him to stay, but seeing the expressions of everyone else, who could scarcely wait for him to leave, he felt it unwise to go against the general consensus, though he secretly harbored deep regret. Given Zhang Mo's reputation, had he remained in the Clear Song Society, he would undoubtedly have been a major asset in future rivalries with the Nine Masters Society of Yuyao. What a pity!

As Zhang Mo descended the stairs, the biting cold wind rushed into his nose and mouth, instantly clearing his mind. He had previously received favors from Kong Rui, which was why he could not refuse the invitation and had been forced to attend the gathering. He had intended to endure the vulgar atmosphere of the room and remain a mere spectator, but ultimately, those who walk different paths cannot make plans together. Remaining there any longer truly felt as though it might suffocate him.

Suddenly, a long, melodious song drifted down from the second-floor window: *"The shimmering water of the clear day is simply lovely..."*

Zhang Mo suffered a sudden jolt. He stopped dead in the freezing wind and listened intently: *"...The mountain hues veiled in mist are wondrous too... I wish to compare the West Lake to Xishi..."*

The final line was indistinct. Overwhelmed by an urgent curiosity bordering on madness, he hoisted his cloth robes and dashed back up the stairs. Ignoring the astonished gazes of Kong Rui and the others, he cried out loudly, "I wish to compare the West Lake to Xishi—what is the final line?"

Seeing Zhang Mo return so unexpectedly, Chunshui rose to her feet in radiant joy. No longer able to conceal her true feelings, she gazed at him infatuatedly and breathed, "You... you've come back..."

At this sight, not just the others, but even Kong Rui realized that Chunshui's true heart belonged precisely to this man, Zhang Buyi. Kong Rui's face darkened, and his gaze turned somewhat violent.

He had always treated Chunshui as a mere plaything. Handing her over for a night of amusement to You Shu, Ming Chu, or even Zhang Mo would have been of no consequence to him. But for Chunshui to genuinely fall in love with Zhang Mo completely changed the nature of the situation.

Bestowing her upon others was an act of his imperial-like grace and reward.

Yet her giving her heart away voluntarily was tantamount to a fierce, humiliating slap across his face!

Though none of the others dared to show any outward change in expression, he already felt a burning pain upon his cheeks!

In Zhuji, no one dared to damage Kong Rui's pride!

Unaware of these shifting undercurrents, Zhang Mo continued to press urgently, "What is the final line?"

Recovering from her joy, Chunshui anxiously glanced at Kong Rui. Seeing his expression remained normal, a trace of relief washed over her. She began to sing: *"I wish to compare the West Lake to Xishi, whether lightly powdered or heavily painted, it is always fitting... I wish to compare the West Lake to Xishi, whether lightly powdered or heavily painted, it is always fitting..."*

Her singing voice was like morning dew sliding down a lotus leaf, leaving even the intricate veins within the leaf looking vibrantly green. Especially at the turns of the melody, her voice gave a slight, playful, and vivid bounce before plunging smoothly like a pebble into the boundless, fertile earth, a direct witness to the birth and vigor of life.

Yet even better than her singing were the four lines of the poem itself:
*The shimmering water of the clear day is simply lovely,*
*The mountain hues veiled in mist are wondrous too.*
*I wish to compare the West Lake to Xishi,*
*Whether lightly powdered or heavily painted, it is always fitting.*

Zhang Mo, however, felt as though his soul had been stripped away by the singing, flying far back to that night outside the city walls of Wu County, amidst the rivers and canals, where a solitary figure inside a humble cabin had uttered words that shook the heavens:
*The moon sets, crows cry, the frost fills the sky,*
*River maples and fisherman's fires accompany my troubled sleep.*
*Outside the city of Gusu, the Hanshan Temple,*
*The midnight bell reaches the traveler's boat.*

Two seven-character poems—two peerless masterpieces!

Only he could have written such poetry, and only he would compose seven-character verses of such peerless magnitude in this era!

Chunshui repeated the lines in song, leaving everyone utterly spellbound. When the song finally ended, You Shu burst into enthusiastic praise, "When I previously read the *Book of Master Lie*, it spoke of Han E passing through Qi, selling her songs to beg for food, and her lingering notes echoing through the rafters for three days. Today I finally know those words were no falsehood! Lady Chunshui, who authored this poem? What is it called?"

"This poem was transmitted from Qiantang; I know not who wrote it. As for the title, I recall it is called *Rain After at Qiantang Lake*."

Qiantang Lake...

Yuan Tan started in surprise and blurted out, "So the West Lake in the Legend of the White Snake is truly Qiantang Lake..."

Kong Rui, however, showed no interest in this. Fixing his gaze upon Zhang Mo with heavy suspicion, he said, "Buyi, if you heard this poem for the first time today, how did you know beforehand that it consisted of only four lines? When I heard you questioning Chunshui earlier, you kept asking what the final line was..."

"Because this poetic form has never existed since ancient times. It takes seven characters per line and four lines per stanza, adhering to strict rules of rhyme and meter. It's just that... just that I didn't yet know what the exact rules were..."

Zhang Mo turned his head and saw that the poem he had composed earlier had been copied down onto paper by Chunshui. He snatched it up, tore it to shreds, and flung the pieces down the stairs, declaring, "This is mere rubble, bringing shame upon fine vine paper!"

Then, letting out a great laugh, he proclaimed, "With seven-character verse reaching this height, my path is not lonely! From this day forth, Qiantang Lake shall be known by the name of West Lake!"

With his sleeves billowing like brocade, Zhang Mo strode away in high spirits, his dashing demeanor permanently etched into Chunshui's mind, never to be erased.