Chapter Twenty-Nine: Doggerel in Five-Word Verse

Running through these details swiftly in his mind, Xu You’s expression remained unfazed, betraying none of the desire that might have been stirred by the grand vision Yuan Jie painted. Instead, he replied with a calm smile, “To attain what Lord Yuan describes, the words ‘Theater of the Sea’ alone may not suffice to carry the weight…”

A flash of admiration appeared in Yuan Jie’s eyes. To remain clear-headed in the face of such great promise of fame and fortune was no easy feat—not just for a young man unversed in the ways of the world, but even for a seasoned sage. To stay true to oneself, unmoved, was truly rare.

He massaged his aching calves and said, “You are indeed astute, Seventh Young Master! The plaque for the Theater of the Sea is but the leading ingredient—a mere catalyst. If we wish the men of letters to flock here eagerly, I must ask you to prescribe another remedy.”

“A remedy? And what might that be?”

Instead of answering directly, Yuan Jie asked, “How is your essay-writing, Seventh Young Master?”

Xu You understood immediately—Yuan Jie wanted him to compose a piece for the Theater of the Sea. Though countless masterpieces from later eras filled his mind, he knew he had already revealed enough of his talent for one day; too much display invites harm, while humility brings benefit. So he replied, “I am but roughly acquainted with the basics of composition, lacking any true brilliance. My humble words are hardly fit for public eyes.”

“Why so modest?” Yuan Jie seemed unconvinced, frowning slightly. “Ultimately, this is all for your own future’s sake. Are you refusing because you fear I am taking advantage of you?”

Who would benefit more from this arrangement was truly hard to say; Yuan Jie gained an immediate boon, while Xu You would profit in the days to come. As the saying goes, only when all benefit is it truly good. He was, in fact, happy to go along. With a wry smile, he said, “You overstate things, my lord! Very well, I may not be able to produce an essay at this moment, but I can offer a poem for your appraisal.”

Without waiting for Yuan Jie’s response, he recited:

“The mountain rises, reaching the immortal’s gate,
The pavilion stands deep, arriving at this place.
Distant eyes follow the cranes in flight,
High spirits drift with the idle clouds.
The outgoing boats reach Wei’s land,
Returning sails bear Chu’s flag.
How generous is Lord Yuan,
Each night, unable to rest!”

The opening lines depicted the Theater of the Sea; the following couplet elevated the scene’s mood. The third pair portrayed crowds journeying from Wei to Chu, eager to visit, employing some exaggeration, and the final lines praised Yuan Jie’s hospitality—a bit of flattery that came naturally to Xu You. At this time, poetry had just evolved from four-syllable to five-syllable lines, with no strict rules, unlimited length, no tonal patterns, and free rhyming. It was neither like the musical lyrics of the Han dynasty nor the regulated or quatrain verse of the Tang. Thus, the impromptu poem he had crafted would be called, in this era, a “five-character ancient poem.”

Yuan Jie’s brows relaxed as he said, “Cao Zhi composed poetry in seven steps and was famed for his quick wit. In my eyes, you are in no way inferior. To create such verses in haste is truly remarkable!”

After a moment’s thought, he continued, “How about this: stay overnight at the manor, and tomorrow morning I will have someone draft an inscription for the Theater of the Sea. Then, would you graciously copy it out in your own hand?”

Xu You chuckled inwardly; it seemed Yuan Jie, after hearing his playful verse, no longer held out much hope for his literary prowess. He was more than content with that outcome, and replied respectfully, “I dare not refuse my lord’s command.”

With their agreement settled, Yuan Jie, weary and ready for sleep, instructed Feng Tong to see Xu You to a guest room. Walking side by side, Xu You observed the orderly comings and goings of the servants within Yuan’s manor. When there was business, they exchanged words in hushed tones; when there was none, they hurried by with heads lowered. In such a grand estate, not a single discordant sound could be heard. Xu You sighed, “From the small, the great is revealed. Even the servants are so well-mannered; it must be the result of your diligent management, Steward Feng.”

Just then, as they approached an arched gate, Feng Tong was about to reply with pride when a maid in blue silk trousers suddenly rushed in from the other side, colliding squarely with Xu You’s shoulder.

Xu You, though not as frail as a reed, was still weakened in body. The collision sent him staggering three steps back. Feng Tong, standing behind, hurriedly steadied him, his anger flaring—he had just been boasting of his discipline, and now this careless girl had made him lose face. He was about to scold her, but as the words reached his lips, his expression changed slightly and he swallowed them back.

The maid, however, showed no sign of alarm. Her bright black eyes darted over Xu You’s face, her delicate features lively and clever. Lips pursed, she said, “Did I hurt you, sir? I was only hurrying on my way and didn’t hear any voices, so I ran a bit fast. Please forgive me, sir.”

Her voice was light and crisp as birdsong in the woods, instantly lifting the listener’s mood. Naturally, Xu You took no offense and replied with a smile, “It’s nothing.”

By custom, the maid should have folded her hands before her, stepped aside, and only after seeing Xu You and Feng Tong on their way, continued her own errands. But she, either willfully or out of ignorance, stood staring boldly at Xu You’s face, showing not the slightest embarrassment.

Xu You ignored her and said to Feng Tong, “Let’s go.”

“Please, sir, go ahead. I’ll be along shortly.”

Xu You nodded and walked through the gate, following the winding path toward a nearby bamboo grove. After a while, Feng Tong caught up, looking as if he had something to say but hesitated.

Xu You smiled, “That little maid just now—she serves the Third Lady, doesn’t she?”

“You guessed it, sir?” Feng Tong sighed. “I can manage all the other servants in the house, even those serving the other young masters and mistresses. But the two girls with the Third Lady—she spoils them terribly. When they act out, there’s nothing I can do…”

Yuan Jie had four sons and three daughters; Yuan Qingqi was the third child, hence the reference. Xu You asked in wonder, “I heard Lord Yuan runs his household with strict propriety and discipline—how does he tolerate such things?”

Feng Tong sighed again, “It’s all because the Third Lady… ah, listen to me prattling on. We’re already at the Elegant Bamboo Pavilion and I didn’t notice. Sir, you’ll be resting here tonight. If you need anything, just ask the maids attending you.”

It seemed there was more to the Third Lady’s story, but Xu You had no intention of probing further—he had already written the letter of divorce, and their connection was severed. So he said, “Understood. Please have someone bring Qiu Fen here… and, if possible, could you invite the Left Battalion Commander for a chat?”

Zuo Wen? Hmph, if you hadn’t mentioned him, I might have forgotten. He’s been disrespectful all the way here—he’ll have to be taught his place sooner or later! Feng Tong feigned difficulty, “Aside from the three hundred guards at the manor, the other units are quartered outside. It’s late already, and not convenient to come and go. If it’s nothing urgent, perhaps tomorrow I could arrange for Zuo Wen to pay his respects?”

“I’ll be meeting Lord Yuan tomorrow and may not have time,” Xu You said, his tone turning grave. “It’s not urgent, exactly, but I’m troubled about the soldiers who fell in battle. I hoped to discuss with the Commander how best to honor their memory—otherwise, I fear I won’t sleep well tonight. Not that sleeplessness matters to me, but I’d hate to be in poor spirits for Lord Yuan’s business tomorrow…”

Feng Tong coughed lightly. “Please rest for now, sir. I’ll see to it.” He called out, and eight lovely maids appeared, kneeling in two rows and greeting Xu You as “my lord.” After giving them instructions, Feng Tong took his leave.

Surrounded by beauty, yet Xu You had no mind to appreciate it. He bid them stand vigil at the door, then stretched out comfortably on the couch, exhaling a long breath of relief.

From the moment he left Yixing, he had endured both the rigors of travel and the exhaustion from the four days of archery. Then, after a sleepless night, he had entered Jinling City and engaged in a battle of wits with Yuan Jie. If not for sheer willpower, he would have collapsed long ago.

He did not know how long he slept, but when he awoke from deep slumber, he saw Qiu Fen seated by the bed, chin in hand, dozing lightly. Her long lashes brushed her pale cheeks, giving her an innocent, childlike charm.

A wave of warmth rose in Xu You’s heart. He quietly sat up, intending to lift her onto the bed to rest. As his hand touched her soft side, she suddenly shuddered and woke, terror written across her face.

Xu You started, then understood—she must have dreamed again of that blood-soaked night. Gently, he drew her into his arms, stroked her hair, and soothed her in a low voice, “Don’t be afraid. We’re in Jinling now. We’re safe… don’t be afraid…”

Cradled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, Qiu Fen’s trembling ceased, and her anxious heart grew calm.

“What time is it now?” Xu You glanced out the window; dusk was falling.

“It’s the end of the Shen hour. The Yuan family sent food, but you were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you.” Qiu Fen exclaimed, leaving his embrace, her cheeks coloring with a hint of shyness as she stuck out her tongue and followed him out.

Zuo Wen was kneeling on a peach-bamboo mat, rising at Xu You’s entrance. The mat, woven from peach and bamboo, was most precious. Xu You greeted him with a friendly smile, nearly offering a handshake out of habit, but recalling the customs of the time, he instead gestured for Zuo Wen to be seated.

“Please, Commander, be at ease. I must apologize for keeping you waiting so long.”

Zuo Wen folded his hands and waited for Xu You to sit before kneeling again, straight-backed and composed. “I have only just arrived, my lord. You have endured much these past days, but after this rest, you look much refreshed.”

Xu You smiled, exchanged a few words, then fell silent. Zuo Wen, puzzled, could not help but ask, “May I ask what commands you have for me, my lord?”

After a pause, Xu You’s eyes sharpened, and he spoke with gravity, “Commander, your prospects in the Yuan household have come to an end.”