Chapter 46: A Fine Poem

Some matters yield better results when left unsaid; articulating them openly tends to severely diminish their execution and momentum.

Though these individuals were already slaves of the Jia household, Jia Ping'an would afford them a measure of respect, yet he could not genuinely grant them absolute freedom and equality. Such was the overarching environment of society; he was not arrogant enough to believe he could alter it single-handedly. Should he attempt to do so, feudal ideology would likely grind him into dust without a trace.

Nevertheless, on special occasions like the Lunar New Year, extending a little extra kindness to these people was entirely acceptable.

As things stood now, everyone was filled with gratitude toward him. In a couple of days, when the Heaven's Third Restaurant grandly opened its doors, would he need to worry about them holding back their efforts?

They had to eat regardless; he had simply prepared some novel dishes for them and offered them the rare privilege of sitting at the table, which in return bought their wholehearted dedication and hard work. No matter how one looked at it, the input and the output were completely disproportionate.

This was the true brilliance of a superior individual: expending minimal effort while securing the absolute, unwavering loyalty of his subordinates.

Jia Fanghao was also seated at the main table, though he felt more than a little awkward.

For no other reason than the fact that Tong Weixing addressed his son as Brother An, and former Minister of the Imperial Stud Guo addressed his son as Worthy Brother Jia.

Yet when they spoke to him, they addressed him as Brother Jia. The generational ranks had become completely muddled.

And yet, he could find no words to object. If comparisons truly had to be made, both of these men had possessed far brighter prospects than him prior to their exile. He was merely an imperial physician within the Imperial Medical Academy; at the very best, he could hope to become the Head Physician of the Academy, which was still only a rank of Junior Fifth.

His career prospects simply could not compare to those of a Hanlin compiler who had achieved the highest honor of top scholar.

As for Guo Tongfang, the man had already served as the Minister of the Imperial Stud and had once been the supreme head of equine administration—a figure utterly beyond comparison.

Surpassed in every regard, and now both sharing the status of disgraced officials, what qualification did he have to point fingers at others? It would be far wiser to finish his meal quickly and take his leave early.

Sure enough, even before all the dishes had been served, Jia Fanghao was already full. Using the excuse of physical fatigue, he voluntarily excused himself from the table.

In truth, with Jia Fanghao lingering there, how could Scholar Tong and former Minister Guo possibly feel at ease?

Yet this was the Jia family's estate, and they were essentially guests partaking in a free meal; how could they rudely criticize the host?

They had been secretly praying for Jia Fanghao to leave, and with his departure, they found themselves able to relax considerably.

The moment Jia Fanghao vanished from sight, Guo Tongfang immediately pounced upon Jia Ping'an, urging, "Worthy Brother Jia, look, today is New Year's Day; shouldn't we upgrade this ordinary Fotou wine to fine Dukang wine?"

Fotou wine was the most common alcoholic beverage in the State of Xuan. It was said that even within the imperial palace of Xuan, the Emperor himself drank this very wine, albeit brewed just a fraction stronger than the varieties consumed by the common folk.

"That is entirely possible, but since Brother Guo has mentioned that it is New Year's Day, shouldn't you compose a poem to match the festive occasion?" Before Jia Ping'an could respond, Tong Weixing jumped in with a preemptive interjection.

"Compose a poem?" Hearing this, Guo Tongfang shook his head so violently it resembled a rattling drum. "Forget it. I would rather forgo wine altogether than compose a verse; that is simply far too difficult for an old man like me."

***

The State of Xuan possessed a flourishing literary culture, and even the reigning Emperor styled himself as Emperor Xuanwen.

Following the principle of catering to the ruler's tastes, since the Emperor cherished literature, the officials below naturally vied to emulate him. Consequently, nearly all officials were capable of composing poetry and rhyming verses, differing only in the heights of their respective talents.

Unfortunately for Guo Tongfang, his domain was horses. When it came to understanding equines, he was thoroughly knowledgeable, effortlessly rattling off a wealth of information without missing a beat. But when it came to poetry-making? Regrettably, that faculty completely deserted him.

Tong Weixing was well aware of this weakness, which was precisely why he used it to tease and embarrass him. As the saying went, scholars were always prone to self-importance, viewing themselves as superior beings and seizing any opportunity to display their erudition.

As for Tong Weixing, Jia Ping'an harbored quiet ambitions of bringing him into his fold.

Regardless of his current status as an exiled official, having once achieved the prestigious rank of top scholar meant his background carried immense weight. Under the regulations of the State of Xuan, top scholars were granted the privileged opportunity to enter the Grand Secretariat and serve as grand councillors.

While not every top scholar ultimately entered the Grand Secretariat, under equal conditions, the top scholar enjoyed priority. Relying on this single advantage, he stood head and shoulders above ordinary officials.

Securing such a man meant laying the groundwork for the future. Should a genuine opportunity arise down the line, backed by the omnipotent power of wealth, the possibility of ascending to high office was far from negligible.

Naturally, winning over a man of this caliber required more than just money and sentiment; it demanded total, overwhelming suppression—ideally defeating him utterly within the very field he considered his absolute stronghold.

Scholars were notorious for mutual disdain—the phenomenon where intellectuals refused to acknowledge each other's worth and looked down upon one another. But what happened when the gap between them grew to astronomical proportions?

For instance, if you possessed one hundred thousand coins, you might look down upon someone holding two or three hundred thousand. But if that person possessed ten million or a hundred million, they existed in a realm completely beyond your reach, eliminating any desire for comparison, and perhaps even driving some to prostrate themselves in admiration.

Did you not fancy yourself, Scholar Tong, possessed of supreme literary mastery, capable of dashing off prose and verse with effortless eloquence?

Very well, I shall defeat you precisely in this arena, making you understand that your proud literary prowess is utterly fragile and worthless before me, and that the chasm between us is as vast as the distance between the clouds and the mud.

Once his arrogance was thoroughly shattered, he would naturally become much more pliable—much like the ancient art of taming hawks.

"Hahaha!" Across the table, before even attempting a verse, Guo Tongfang surrendered outright, prompting Tong Weixing to burst into a triumphant, booming laugh.

"Haha, it is rare to see Brother Guo in such fine spirits. Untalented as I am, I have pored over ancient texts since my youth, and I should like to offer a modest challenge for instruction." Seeing that the opportune moment had arrived, Jia Ping'an interjected smoothly.

As he spoke, a gentle and amiable smile graced his features, and he cast occasional glances at the defeated Guo Tongfang, as if silently conveying that his intervention was meant to rescue him from embarrassment.

Guo Tongfang was an exceptionally astute man; catching that subtle glance, he immediately recognized it as the perfect opportunity to deflect the conflict. He chimed in gleefully, "Quite right! Quite right, Brother Tong! You fancy yourself clever and love to bully me, but Worthy Brother Jia is right here. He, too, has studied books since childhood. Come, the two of you should match wits and compare!"

In truth, Guo Tongfang had no illusions that Jia Ping'an would avenge him. In his estimation, Jia Ping'an was merely exceptional at unearthing ginseng, and even then, that was likely due to sheer good fortune aided by a white fox. Naturally, the secrets surrounding the white creature remained closely guarded; at the very least, few people knew of it, and influential clans like the Zheng family remained entirely in the dark.

It was worth noting that today's New Year's Eve dinner was also attended by Little White, which had been granted its own designated seat. Initially sitting beside Jia Rongrong, it had now trotted over to the main table, settling quietly right beside Jia Ping'an.

For a human youth to show it such profound respect—even permitting it to share a seat at the dining table—Little White, having long since attained spiritual awareness, felt deeply grateful. Furthermore, having grown accustomed to the spiritual spring water, it would have refused to leave even if driven away.

Returning to Guo Tongfang, he believed Jia Ping'an's previous successes were merely a stroke of luck; when it came to composing poetry, he certainly stood no chance against Tong Weixing, who bore the illustrious title of a former top scholar. However, since the young man had willingly stepped forward to rescue him from a tight spot, Guo Tongfang felt obliged to elevate his stature in return.

Being in high spirits today, Tong Weixing had merely intended to poke fun at Guo Tongfang. He had never anticipated that Jia Ping'an would leap into the fray and brazenly propose a poetry duel with him.

To match verses with a former top scholar—was that not akin to brandishing a broadsword before Guan Yu?

Had anyone else made such a claim, Tong Weixing would have sneered dismissively and perhaps even mocked the fool to his face on the spot. Scholars, after all, could occasionally be insufferable prigs; when matters of pride were involved, they rarely bothered to spare anyone's feelings. Those capable of suppressing their fiery tempers were not true literati, but mere politicians.

Yet because the words had issued from Jia Ping'an's lips, Tong Weixing found himself unable to utter a harsh retort.

After all, the young man had treated him with utmost generosity. Not only had he extended a helping hand during his most desperate hour, but he had continually protected him, provided precious aged ginseng that served as medicine, and helped him navigate the daunting trials of arriving in Ninggutula.

Moreover, the tale of Journey to the West recounted by the youth was genuinely enthralling, from which he had gleaned no small amount of wisdom. At this juncture, he truly lacked any justifiable reason to chastise him.

As for Jia Ping'an's challenge to a poetry contest, Tong Weixing attributed it to the restless competitiveness of youth. Since the lad desired it so, he would simply indulge his wish. Yet Tong Weixing had already made up his mind: once the duel commenced, he would not hold back. Matters of literature demanded an attitude of absolute piety and seriousness.

"Very well! Since Brother An is in such high spirits, this brother shall gladly accompany you." Tong Weixing chuckled warmly, his gaze resting upon Jia Ping'an suffused with the indulgent smile of an elder observing a promising junior.

"Splendid, then I defer to Brother Tong." Jia Ping'an wore an expression of utmost modesty, projecting the perfect image of respecting elders and nurturing the young. Inwardly, however, he could not help but muse: wanting to compete in poetry against a literary plagiarist equipped with the treasures of another realm—he truly wondered where the man derived such boundless confidence.

Tong Weixing remained entirely oblivious to these inner musings. Seeing Jia Ping'an deferentially invite him to compose the first verse, he assumed the young man required time to collect his thoughts and prepare. With a light, amused laugh, he declared, "In that case, this brother shall not stand on ceremony. Today being the night of the New Year, let us take the festival as our theme. How does that sound?"

"Agreed." Jia Ping'an naturally had no objections.

Having undergone the cleansing baptism of the spiritual spring water, Jia Ping'an's mind retained a vast repository of classical poetry and prose from his previous life, naturally including no shortage of works dedicated to the Lunar New Year.

"Haha, then I shall begin without reservation." Speaking with absolute confidence, Tong Weixing paused for a brief moment of silent composition before reciting:

"Firecrackers bid farewell to years gone by,
We trace the winding paths where fortunes lie.
From every household lanterns brightly gleam,
While overhead the Northern Dipper streams."

Such a quatrain could be effortlessly tossed off the tongue; in truth, it was a piece he had carefully premeditated and polished over the preceding few days.

Strictly speaking, it could hardly be considered an impromptu composition, but how many true poets ever relied purely on spontaneous improvisation?

"Fine verse! A truly fine verse!" Hearing the lines recited aloud, Guo Tongfang could not restrain himself from bursting into enthusiastic applause.

Although he lacked deep expertise in the intricacies of poetry, he possessed enough discernment to recognize a well-crafted piece. At the very least, the poem flowed with effortless smoothness, and its cadence fell pleasingly upon the ear.