Chapter Eleven: The River View Pavilion (5)

Master Baiyunzi stroked his beard and smiled lightly. “Lord Yang, in my humble opinion, the young gentleman of the Kong family composes poems that are fit to be passed down through the ages. His talent needs no further proof. Let us consider this poetry gathering concluded; the champion is clear, and with these two masterpieces to be remembered, your merit in organizing this event is truly unparalleled.”

Yang Qi’s mouth twitched. At last, he resolved to declare Kong Sheng as the winner of the poetry gathering, thereby fulfilling his promise regarding the prize. If his dignity suffered, so be it. After all, this young man was destined to become his son-in-law, and the more astonishing Kong Sheng’s talents, the more the Yang family stood to gain.

Whatever the underlying circumstances, it was best to smooth things over for now and investigate Kong Sheng’s background later.

Having reached this understanding, Yang Qi calmed himself. Ambitious by nature, he recognized that Kong Sheng, who had concealed his abilities and now revealed them all at once, was indeed worthy of his daughter. For the sake of future greatness, such extraordinary talent must not slip through his fingers.

He was just about to announce the result when Zhou Chang, growing anxious, interrupted. Though he had been moved by Kong Sheng’s Song of Everlasting Sorrow, the matter concerned his own prospects of winning the lady’s hand, and he could not let it go. Seeing the prize about to slip away, he stood and bowed. “Lord Yang, this poetry gathering was meant to consist of three rounds. Only one has concluded; to end it so hastily—how can we scholars accept such a verdict?”

Yang Qi forced a bitter smile. “Nephew Zhou, are you planning to recite another poem?”

“Indeed, Lord Yang. From my youth I have studied poetry and literature, hoping to serve the nation someday. I still have fine works yet to present. Would it not be a shame if I were not allowed to try? Moreover, this fellow’s reputation is disgraceful—frequenting the pleasure quarters, brawling with ruffians—even with some talent, he cannot be worthy of your esteemed daughter!”

As he spoke, Zhou Chang pointed at Kong Sheng, sneering coldly. “I have heard he visits Rose Hall daily, pursuing the famed singer Liu Xinru. His debauchery and vile conduct are well known—if such a man were to marry Miss Yang, would it not be an embarrassment to all scholars of Jiangnan?”

His words were sharp, his disdain obvious.

Kong Sheng’s brows knitted, anger rising in his heart. He had no desire to contest Zhou Chang for the lady’s hand; his purpose was to gain fame through the poetry gathering, forging an opportunity to rise once more. If Zhou Chang had simply competed in scholarly merit, Kong Sheng was prepared to step aside and let him have the prize, thus fulfilling another’s ambition.

But Zhou Chang’s insults crossed the line.

Kong Sheng replied with a cold smile. “My reputation is of no concern to you. My pursuits in the marketplace are my own affair, and you have no right to judge. In my eyes, even if you spent your whole life studying, you would still be nothing but a wine sack and rice bag—not worth mentioning.”

His words were arrogant, yet the casual dismissal resonated with many. A man who hides his talent and indulges in worldly pleasures is indeed a rare character—one not to be judged by ordinary standards.

Zhou Chang, enraged and humiliated, shouted, “You are insolent! A rogue of the streets—do you dare compete with me once more?”

“I refuse no challenge. Since you insist on courting humiliation, I will oblige you!” Kong Sheng answered firmly.

He had attended the gathering with the intent to change his fate; he could not let Zhou Chang’s infatuation ruin his plans.

“Friends, though I am but a scholar, I often contemplate service to the nation. Today, I will recite a poem to express my resolve!”

Zhou Chang clenched his jaw and began:

“Beacon fires illuminate Chang’an,
A heart filled with unrest.
Someday I will depart Qinhuai,
Riding alone to Dragon City.
The great wind cannot hinder me,
Dust and drums fill the air.
Better to be a captain of a hundred men,
Than a mere scholar!”

As soon as Zhou Chang finished, the audience applauded. The poem expressed both concern for the nation and the ambition to face peril—truly a fine composition. Zhou Chang looked proudly at Kong Sheng; he had long prepared this poem for just such a moment, determined to challenge Kong Sheng for the champion’s title.

“Merely an imitation of Yang Yingchuan’s ‘Song of Joining the Army,’ a pale attempt at elegance.” Kong Sheng strode forward, entering the center, muttering a silent apology to the gathered scholars for resorting to borrowed verses.

“Concerning the times, national service, and the people’s suffering, I too shall declare my resolve with a poem and a song—please forgive my presumption.”

Kong Sheng raised his hand and recited loudly:

“The nation is broken, rivers and mountains remain;
Spring comes to the city, grass and trees grow deep.
Moved by the times, the flowers shed tears;
Parting brings sorrow, the birds startle the heart.
Beacon fires burn for three months;
A letter from home is worth ten thousand in gold.
White hair, scratched, grows even shorter—
Soon, it will not hold a hairpin.”

This poem was composed by Du Zimei in the second year of Zhide, still two or three years ahead in this timeline; Kong Sheng felt somewhat guilty for borrowing it. Yet one lost poem would not tarnish the Sage’s reputation.

He resolved that in future, he would avoid such hackneyed poetry gatherings, and if compelled to attend, he would refrain from copying poems. Though others might not know, his own conscience would not rest easy.

Having recited the first poem, Kong Sheng looked around at the audience.

The superiority between the two poems was clear; if the Sage’s work could not surpass Zhou Chang’s imitation, it would be a cosmic joke. In terms of vision, sentiment, and literary grace, they were not on the same level.

Yang Qi spread his hands helplessly, ever more convinced of Kong Sheng’s genuine talent—his words were masterpieces, something ordinary scholars could not achieve.

He mused that the Kong family truly ought not be underestimated. Why Kong Sheng chose to behave so poorly remained a mystery, but his efforts today were understandable—he sought, after all, to marry his daughter.

Yang Qi glanced surreptitiously at his daughter Yang Xue Ruo, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

Kong Sheng steadied himself and earnestly recited:

“Fury bristling, I stand at the rail,
Rain drizzles, then clears.
I raise my eyes, howl at the sky,
My spirit ablaze.
Fame and fortune are dust and ashes,
Eight thousand miles of cloud and moon.
Let not youth go to waste,
Regret comes too late.
Chang’an’s shame yet unshed,
A minister’s hatred—when will it end?
Drive the long chariot,
Break through Helan Mountain.
Ambition: feast on the flesh of the foe,
Drink the blood of traitors in jest.
When all is restored,
Present myself at the palace gate.”

Kong Sheng recited in one breath, hastily adjusting details to suit the current era, inevitably introducing flaws to this “Red River,” but its spirit, passion, and ambition remained undiminished.

If his earlier poems displayed his talent, this final “Red River” was meant to declare his ambition, to ignite his fame throughout Jiangnan and the Tang Empire.

“Excellent! Excellent! What a splendid ‘When all is restored, present myself at the palace gate!’” Baiyunzi rose in excitement, his eyes shining. “Such vision, such ambition, such astonishing talent—both literary and martial! How can the young master of the Kong family remain confined to Jiangnan? I present this flute-sword to you. When we meet again, I trust you will have achieved greatness. On this day, I await your success!”

Young Attai, the Daoist acolyte, carried Baiyunzi’s flute-sword reverently to Kong Sheng, offering it with both hands. Kong Sheng, knowing this Daoist was no ordinary man, bowed deeply in thanks, then solemnly accepted the gift.

Yet after receiving the flute-sword, Kong Sheng’s smile faded. He turned to face Zhou Chang and said coldly, “Zhou Chang, do you still wish to compete?”

Shamed and enraged, Zhou Chang covered his face and fled the pavilion.

Yang Qi, meanwhile, suddenly beamed with joy. The “loss of face” Kong Sheng had caused him was long forgotten. Baiyunzi’s words reminded him: indeed, this young man’s astonishing talent, combined with martial prowess, if properly educated, could become a hero on par with Guo Ziyi!

Especially since Baiyunzi clearly wished to take Kong Sheng as a disciple, Yang Qi realized the flute-sword was custom-made for him, symbolizing both literary and martial excellence. The Daoist’s stay in Jiangning was surely related to Kong Sheng.

Kong Sheng was like a rough gem; if refined by Baiyunzi, his future would be limitless.

With this thought, Yang Qi felt ever more elated, believing he had found a treasure.

But when he went on to announce Kong Sheng as the poetry gathering’s champion, and smilingly prepared to write the marriage contract, setting a new date for Yang Xue Ruo and Kong Sheng’s wedding, Kong Sheng’s response was a cold splash of water.

“Lord Yang, I gratefully accept the flute-sword from the Immortal, and the fine steed from the poetry gathering. As for the marriage, I must decline. My family has fallen, I am alone, without even a dwelling, destitute and impoverished—how can I presume to wed your esteemed daughter? Moreover, my reputation is notorious, my appearance coarse—I am truly unworthy of Miss Yang.”

“Your family’s kindness to me I will always remember. If I achieve anything in the future, I shall seek to repay it. For now, I bid you farewell.”

Kong Sheng bowed deeply and departed without a backward glance.

Yang Qi’s expression grew very unpleasant, but he could not protest. Kong Sheng’s words were humble, repeatedly declaring himself unworthy and promising to repay the Yang family’s kindness, leaving Yang Qi with no outlet for his disappointment or frustration.

Yang Xue Ruo stood dumbfounded, gazing at Kong Sheng’s departing figure, disappointment and regret flooding her heart. Her delicate lips parted, then closed helplessly.

She knew clearly that Kong Sheng’s humility was a subtle rebuke to the Yang family. Their power, status, and wealth meant nothing to him.

Only now did Yang Xue Ruo understand that Kong Sheng’s previous request to break off the engagement was no accident.

Once, the Yang family had looked down on him; now, he turned his back on them. Such is the shifting of fortune, leaving her sighing with sorrow beyond words.