Chapter Twenty-One: The Banquet at Hongmen - Murderous Intent Rising (3)

The dancers of Rose Pavilion, including the likes of Qingyi, moved with grace and allure, their flowing sleeves accentuating every elegant turn. Their slender figures flickered tantalizingly amidst the swirling silks and vibrant hues of their costumes, while Liuxinru's gentle yet masterful zither playing, paired with her crisp, oriole-like singing, completed the enchanting scene. Such beauty and artistry bewitched the dozen young scholars present, leaving their hearts restless with longing.

In these times, consorting with courtesans was considered a refined pleasure, not a scandalous act. So long as both parties were willing and the exchange was fair, one could openly seek delight in the arms of beauty, without fear of future trouble or moral reproach.

As the leading performer at Rose Pavilion, Liuxinru was renowned for selling her talents, not her body. The dancers such as Qingyi, however, could be enjoyed for a price, whether for drinking, singing, or more intimate company. Thus, their dance served both to enliven the literary tea gathering and to display the wares to potential patrons; if a courtesan and a client found favor with each other, both left satisfied.

Though Kong Sheng sat upright, watching his nose and keeping his eyes half-closed in meditative reserve, the edge of his gaze never strayed from Liu Nian and Zhou Chang, seated at the main table. While the singers and dancers were at the height of their performance, and the rest of the scholars were entranced, Kong Sheng noted the two exchanging whispered words and odd glances, a warning bell sounding deep within him.

Strategically, one must always scorn the enemy, but tactically, never underestimate them.

When the song and dance ended, each courtesan found her chosen companion among the guests, nestling up to them with soft, coquettish words: “Sir, please enjoy your tea!”

The young scholars burst into laughter, each drinking a cup before using the occasion to let their hands wander freely over the voluptuous courtesans, reveling in the pleasure.

Seeing the gathering sliding toward decadent chaos, Zhou Chang and Liu Nian exchanged a look, not wishing their own agenda to be derailed. Zhou Chang stood, raising his teacup as if in a toast, and interrupted with a laugh, “Gentlemen, we have gathered today for tea and the meeting of minds. Beauty, fine tea, and exquisite dance—such harmony calls out for poetry, does it not?”

No sooner had he spoken than his friend, the scholar Xue Jiao, laughed aloud, casting a challenging glance toward Kong Sheng and clapping his hands in mock salute. “Brother Zhou speaks truth. I've heard that the young master of the Kong family is a man of unmatched talent, astounding all at the Wangjiang Pavilion poetry meet. On such a splendid occasion, might we not witness the prowess of this poetic champion?”

The others quickly joined in, urging him on boisterously.

It was obvious this had all been arranged beforehand; Zhou Chang's close circle was naturally eager to support him and set the stage. The target was set on Kong Sheng.

Liu Nian sneered quietly, and Zhou Chang wore an enigmatic smile, while most of the scholars looked on with anticipation for some entertainment. Indeed, it has ever been the way of scholars to belittle one another. Kong Sheng’s once infamous reputation had been swept away by his recent literary triumph; now, crowned as the leading poet, he became the object of envy. The true intent behind these calls for poetry was less to admire his verse than to see him falter.

Observing their contrived camaraderie, Kong Sheng smirked inwardly, his outward composure unbroken.

Was this merely a contest of poetry, an attempt to overshadow him with words? If so, Zhou Chang and his clique would only make fools of themselves. Kong Sheng’s mind raced. He knew it couldn't be so simple; the poetry was but a prelude—the main act lay ahead.

Since this was a feast with hidden daggers, the real threat had yet to reveal itself.

Kong Sheng smiled serenely and declined with hands clasped in modest thanks. “My abilities are shallow indeed, hardly worth comparing to those present. Besides, I cannot compose poetry on such short notice; I must decline.”

He had made up his mind: if Zhou Chang sought only literary glory, he could let him have the spotlight. But if Zhou Chang harbored darker intentions, and sought a true confrontation, then he would not hesitate to show his own steel.

Xue Jiao feigned disdain at Kong Sheng’s refusal. “If you are truly the champion of the Wangjiang Pavilion gathering, why such false modesty? Unless, of course, your reputation is undeserved, and—”

“And what if it is?” Kong Sheng replied.

“To be frank, we cannot accept your unchallenged claim to poetic supremacy. If you cannot compose a poem now to convince us, do not blame us for submitting a petition together, denouncing you as a disgrace to our scholarly circles and driving you from the city. Henceforth, no scholar in Jiangnan will have anything to do with you!” Xue Jiao declared arrogantly.

You want nothing to do with me? If I weren’t considering longer-term plans, you lot wouldn’t even be fit to carry my shoes, Kong Sheng thought with amusement. He turned to Zhou Chang and Liu Nian. “My humble talent cannot compare to yours, gentlemen. Since this is a gathering of minds, as our hosts, surely you should first set the theme—for me to follow in your footsteps.”

Zhou Chang, prepared for this, rose and recited:

“Dogwood leaves steeped in water from sandy springs,
Pine logs burning in clay pots scent the jade-green tea.
How delightful that the servant knows to test the brew,
Sweeping up the dawn’s glow to accompany fine liquor.”

He finished in one breath, rather pleased with himself, and at once the room erupted in praise.

This poem had been crafted especially for the occasion, an attempt to outshine Kong Sheng.

Xue Jiao rose again with a flourish. “Brother Zhou is truly the pride of Jiangnan’s scholars. Such a poem—so apt and fitting, it’s beyond compare. Kong Sheng, will you still refuse?”

Kong Sheng smiled, about to reply with a sharp retort, when he noticed Liu Tong, the Liu family’s servant, directing the tea maid Tian’er and her companions to carry a bronze tea tray through the hall. Something in his mind stirred, suspicion rising.

His eye for detail was keen, his caution born of habit. He saw that the sunflower-patterned dark blue teacups were all identical, but one cup’s saucer was different—a black saucer, unlike the rest.

Such a subtle detail would escape almost anyone but Kong Sheng.

He remained calm, waiting to see what would unfold.

Sure enough, the tea maid Tian’er, after making the rounds, placed the cup with the black saucer quietly before him.

Kong Sheng glanced at the tea—its color was a clear, vibrant green, not the least bit cloudy. Yet clearly, this cup was set apart for a reason. Some trickery—poison, perhaps, or a drug? Such a crude ploy! A trace of scorn curled at his lips. So this was the grand scheme Zhou Chang and Liu Nian had concocted?

After the tea was served, Zhou Chang and Liu Nian raised their cups. “Gentlemen, please drink!”

Kong Sheng lifted the cup to his lips and appeared to drain it in one gulp, but in truth, with a deft flick of his sleeve, he poured the entire contents into a wooden bowl beside him. His movement was swift and subtle; no one noticed—save for Liuxinru, seated behind him, who caught the gesture with a raised brow. A strange light flashed in her eyes, but then her face turned pale.

A glimmer of delight flickered in Zhou Chang’s eyes as he exchanged a look with Liu Nian, who could barely contain his smile.

Xue Jiao pressed on, pointing at Kong Sheng. “Now, Kong Sheng, will you recite your poem?”

At such a gathering, to refuse again would be to yield the field. Should these idle scholars seize on his reluctance and make a scandal of it, Kong Sheng’s future plans could be derailed.

With a faint smile, Kong Sheng rose to his feet. Liuxinru’s deep, watery gaze followed his back, a mix of anxiety and anticipation in her heart. If Kong Sheng could produce an immortal poem under her roof, she would be honored by association. As for Liu Nian and Zhou Chang’s schemes, she knew she was powerless, even if she saw through them.