Chapter 83: Seeking Shelter from the Snow at Wu Pavilion (2)

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Since he was heading off on a distant assignment, there was no need to invite trouble along the way. With this thought, Kong Sheng stepped forward and bowed courteously. "My companion is forthright by nature. If he has acted rudely or offended you, I ask that you forgive him. However, the snow is falling heavily now—might you permit the four of us to shelter in the pavilion for a while?"

The youth in ornate attire turned to gaze at Kong Sheng, remained silent for a moment, then nodded with a slight smile. "If you address the matter so politely, there is no problem at all. As we are all merely seeking refuge from the snow, it would hardly be right of us to monopolize the pavilion. Please, come in."

"Li An, step aside and let our guests enter."

The youth in fine clothes returned to his seat on a stone bench, where a snowy-white fur cushion had been laid. His maid stood behind him, eyes downcast. The arrogant servant from before stamped his foot in frustration, but yielded the space, unwilling to disrupt his master's rest. Grudgingly, he stepped outside the pavilion, arms folded, standing in the snow and shooting venomous glances at the four newcomers.

This man was clearly accustomed to acting with arrogance and was coarse by nature; were it not for the restraint of his young master, a conflict with Mu Changfeng might have erupted on the spot. For all that Mu Changfeng appeared out of the ordinary, he was no commoner, and feared nothing.

Kong Sheng smiled and, without further ceremony, took a seat opposite the youth in ornate dress. Mu Changfeng stood nearby, cradling his sword. Wu Xian and Wu Jie, meanwhile, stood awkwardly at the edge of the pavilion, brushing snow from their cloaks.

The youth in splendid attire regarded Kong Sheng for some time, then suddenly chuckled. "Judging by your appearance, you seem a scholar, yet you arrive travel-worn. Are you, perchance, journeying from Jiangning to Runzhou to further your studies?"

Chance meetings on the road often end with both parties returning to anonymity. Yet, since the youth had begun the conversation, Kong Sheng could not for courtesy’s sake refuse to respond.

"I am indeed a scholar from Jiangning, passing through Runzhou."

The youth responded with a soft "Oh," and, taking a hand-warmer from his maid, smiled. "We are northern merchants, in Jiangnan for the first time. To encounter such a snowstorm—well, what a coincidence of fate. I imagine such heavy snow is rare in these southern lands?"

Kong Sheng cupped his fists and smiled. "Indeed. Snow in Jiangnan is more often a poetic suggestion, fleeting and delicate—rarely, as now, does one see the world sealed in ice, with snow swirling for a thousand miles."

A gleam flickered in the youth's eyes. He thought to himself that this young man’s speech was elegant and his bearing refined—surely, he was a scholar of considerable learning.

With a sigh, the youth gazed toward the snowy expanse and the distant, ancient city of Runzhou. "The winds and snows rage beyond Xiangwu Pavilion; travelers outside Runzhou wear heavy hearts. Should a scholar from Jiangnan ask after me, tell him the northern messenger is left to sorrow. This blizzard blocks our path, leaving us northern merchants stranded in Jiangnan. Instead of delighting in the endless snowscape, all we feel is an increasing homesickness."

Kong Sheng’s eyes lit up, and he praised with a smile, "A fine poem, sir! Your longing for home is sincere, but alas—Heaven is not on our side. What can be done?"

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The youth in fine clothes sighed softly and turned to Kong Sheng. "Since we are snowbound, there is nothing for it but to appreciate the beauty before us. I have heard that the scholars of Jiangnan are renowned for their poetry—seeing such a scene, might you be moved to compose a poem for us?"

Exchanging poems and witty remarks in moments such as these was a favored pastime among the literati of this era. The youth's suggestion was casual, not meant as a test of Kong Sheng’s talent, but rather in keeping with custom.

Kong Sheng smiled modestly. "I am but a man of limited learning, far less gifted than you, sir. In such haste, I fear I cannot compose a poem worthy of your company, and would only make you laugh at my efforts."

The youth’s lips curled. "Sir, you are much too modest. How then am I to respond?"

His meaning was clear: I have already offered a poem—if you do not reply in kind, you look down on me and leave me in a most awkward position.

Mu Changfeng, standing by, laughed. "Sir, you are too humble. If your talent is 'limited,' then no scholar in all Jiangnan could dare claim to possess any at all!"

Mu Changfeng believed he spoke the truth—Kong Sheng was famed as Jiangnan's foremost scholar, celebrated across dozens of provinces. But to the youth and his servants, this sounded wildly boastful, bordering on the absurd.

The youth in ornate dress smiled faintly, masking his disdain. "Your companion has quite the tongue. Since that is so, what cause have you to hesitate? If you cannot produce a poem now, you’ll make a laughingstock of all Jiangnan’s scholars."

Kong Sheng cast a quick, reproachful glance at Mu Changfeng for his loose tongue.

Just then, the servant who had wielded the whip sneered from outside, bowed deeply toward his master, and announced in a loud voice, "Though I am but a coarse fellow, I have seen many a Jiangnan scholar these days—well-dressed and full of airs, yet in truth, they are all empty sacks—none can compare to my master’s quick wit with verse!"

This servant sought to flatter his master by belittling others. Though his words were harsh, Kong Sheng did not stoop to argue. Yet the man pressed on with another insult that brought a frown to Kong Sheng’s brow and a flush of anger to his heart:

"They boast to the heavens, but if even a greenhorn could compose poetry, then surely a dumb donkey could climb a tree!"

Such crude and provocative words were clearly meant as a deliberate slight, clearly still stewing over the earlier exchange.

The youth in fine clothes could not help but laugh, raising his hand to silence the servant. "Enough, Li An! Mind your tongue and stand aside."

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"You wretch—seeking death!" Mu Changfeng, enraged at the insult to Kong Sheng, leapt to his feet, sword in hand, but was promptly restrained by Kong Sheng.

Kong Sheng stepped calmly into the snow, his expression serene, and faced the insolent retainer. For a man to speak so boldly before his master, he could not be a common servant.

"So, your meaning is: if I can compose a poem, then you are nothing but a dumb donkey?" Kong Sheng said evenly. "In that case, I will oblige you—and let you become the northern donkey you claim."

He began to recite, his voice clear:

"Snowflakes fly on northern winds,
Wandering, circling, filling the air.
From afar they seem to blossom,
Yet all alight east of Runzhou."

When he finished, he turned to the youth in fine clothes.

The youth applauded, his face aglow. "You truly are a man of great talent! Your poem suits the scene perfectly—it is marvelous! My servant is but a coarse fellow, ignorant of courtesy. I hope you will not hold his rudeness against him. Allow me to offer my apologies on his behalf!"

Kong Sheng laughed aloud. "You need not worry, sir. How could I stoop to quarrel with a dumb donkey?"

The retainer’s face burned red with fury, his eyes savage, barely restraining himself from violence.

A cold smile played at the corner of Kong Sheng's lips. In a flash, Mu Changfeng sprang forward—his sword drawn, its tip at the servant's throat. "If you dare utter another word of insult, I will spill your blood where you stand!"

The youth in ornate dress gazed intently at Mu Changfeng, whose white robes fluttered in anger, but paid the servant no further heed. Instead, he turned to Kong Sheng with a warm smile. "To meet you here at Xiangwu Pavilion in the midst of a snowstorm is surely fate. Having witnessed your poise, grace, and poetic brilliance, you cannot be an unknown scholar from Jiangning. May I ask your esteemed name?"