Chapter 11: Bright Moon, When Will You Appear

Pleasure boats cruised on the Qinhuai River, both banks illuminated by brilliant lights. On this Mid-Autumn night, the gates of Jiangning remained open, and the revelry and celebration would continue all night, only dispersing at dawn the next day. At this time, the city streets were teeming with people. Shortly after dinner, residents emerged from their homes and streamed through alleyways and main thoroughfares, heading towards the most bustling areas centered around the Fuzi Temple and Mingyuan Tower. Lanterns lined the roads like an endless, vibrant flow of fire. Vendors shouted their wares, dragon and lion dance troupes passed by to the sound of gongs and drums, and street performers gathered to entertain. From brothels and courtesan houses, faint singing drifted out, enticing customers; sometimes, dances could be glimpsed inside, with people constantly entering and exiting, creating a lively atmosphere.

Courtesans of renown had already found engagements for the night, though seats could occasionally still be found in the main halls. News would frequently spread through the streets about a certain young master at a particular poetry gathering having unveiled a new work – this was one of the evening's main attractions. Soon after, one might hear a famous courtesan in a brothel recite the poem, followed by news of another masterpiece emerging from a different poetry society. Scholars competed with each other, and beautiful women adorned this talent with a blush of allure. Most people enjoyed the lanterns and the vibrant scene. In such an atmosphere, one could sense the lingering charm of the Wei and Jin Dynasties, and the elegance of the Tang era, feeling that it was no less grand.

The art of poetry had flourished since the Tang Dynasty, and by this time, it had developed for several more centuries. While Ning Yi and Old Qin might casually remark, "It's hard to say who has great talent and who has little," during their chats, this was because their perspectives transcended ordinary standards. In reality, even the nation's high-ranking officials had begun to consider the practical irrelevance of poetry. The criteria for selecting officials had been repeatedly re-evaluated over the past century, with poetry sometimes excluded from examination standards and sometimes reinstated, a constant, wavering deliberation by the imperial court.

However, despite these considerations at the highest levels, the status of poetry had, in the broader scheme of things, reached a glorious peak. If one could truly compose an excellent poem, they would undoubtedly command respect and courtesy wherever they went. The atmosphere of elegance was a hallmark of this era. Since the Tang Dynasty, the vast and rich culture of poetry had permeated the very fabric of society, becoming one of the most brilliant chapters in the history of civilization. Countless masterpieces, like innumerable stars and grains of sand, had converged to form a crucial component of Han civilization.

In Jiangning City at this time, places like Wuyi Lane and Fuzi Temple were the liveliest and most prosperous commercial streets. Here, merchants displayed plaques, gathering outstanding poems from various poetry gatherings. Occasionally, someone would recite a poem aloud, or a merchant might arrange for a singing girl to perform a piece. On the streets and in nearby tea houses and restaurants, in gatherings large and small, scholars swayed their heads as they critiqued the finest poems, debating whose work would be remembered longest. Even uneducated commoners, immersed in this atmosphere, could appreciate the artistic sentiment, discussing and commenting with those beside them, thereby partaking in a touch of refinement.

The Puyuuan's six-boat flotilla had long since departed the bank, slowly navigating the most beautiful and vibrant stretch of the river. Even so, it wasn't isolated. Over ten small boats continuously followed along the banks of the Qinhuai River, occasionally ferrying people to the larger vessels, or carrying passengers and delivering poems back to shore, like small fish accompanying a floating palace. Those boarding the main boats would bring forth masterpieces composed that evening, along with various stories and news, such as a prominent figure at a certain banquet announcing his daughter's betrothal, or a renowned personality praising a young scholar's exceptional poetry.

The poems at the Puyuuan Poetry Gathering were, in fact, quite presentable. In earlier years, they had resorted to buying poems to get by on this day, but now there was no need. With ample funds, they could always invite genuinely talented individuals. Although they still couldn't rival the prestige of the most famous gatherings like the Zhishui Poetry Society or the Lichuan Poetry Society, a period of lively promotion would gradually enhance their reputation.

Mid-Autumn poetry gatherings often took the moon as their theme, but naturally, poets wouldn't confine themselves to writing solely about the moon all night. Some gatherings had specific restrictions, especially if the host was assertive. When the conversation flowed pleasantly, a topic might be suggested on a whim. Poetry societies were scholarly clubs, and some engaged in subtle rivalries or direct competition, like the Zhishui and Lichuan societies. Upon hearing a topic from the other side, someone might casually remark, "Speaking of that, I happened to compose a little something myself..." then calmly present it for everyone's critique, ensuring no hint of competitiveness was visible on the surface. When poetry reached a very high standard, it was indeed difficult to discern superior from inferior works, but if the difference was significant, masterpieces and clumsy attempts were easily distinguishable.

It was not yet the most intense part of the evening; the poetry gathering would continue until early morning. Truly excellent poems were rarely accidental creations. Most scholars would have one or two proud compositions prepared. Those who felt their talent was insufficient and didn't want to embarrass themselves before the top figures would release their poems early. However, the climax, when the most gifted scholars unleashed their best works, usually began around midnight. Gaining a good reputation and accumulating fame at this time would significantly smooth one's future career path.

As night deepened in this atmosphere, and the moon ascended to its zenith, the city's festive mood continued to intensify. In the small courtyard of the Su family, Ning Yi and Xiao Chan had already returned to their room. They had witnessed some of the excitement from there, and outside, a breeze had begun to pick up.

The faint sounds of the outside revelry still reached them here. Master and servant effectively held their own small Mid-Autumn evening celebration. Since Ning Yi couldn't recall the details of "Romance of the West Chamber" very clearly, and considering it depicted a young lady eloping, he ultimately told Xiao Chan a story from "Journey to the West." Afterwards, Xiao Chan sang two short songs for him, interspersed with some rather unpolished dances—reportedly seen at a performance and self-taught. Su Tan'er had never considered giving her three maidservants away or having them entertain others in the future. Thus, she taught them to read, embroider, and help manage the household staff to assist her with tasks, but she did not instruct them in musical instruments or professional dancing. So, while they could manage some singing, they couldn't truly dance, though her movements were light and endearing.

Xiao Chan enjoyed playing Gomoku, but Ning Yi was still recovering from his illness, so he needed to avoid strenuous mental activity. After Xiao Chan finished singing and dancing, Ning Yi performed a simple magic trick for her: making a game piece disappear in his hand and then producing it from her hair or pocket. The little girl gasped in surprise and delight. Ning Yi, smiling, explained the principle to her. As Xiao Chan clumsily tried to replicate it, Ning Yi finally said, "I'm going to sleep now. It's still early, Xiao Chan, why don't you go have fun at the Puyuuan Poetry Gathering? Oh, and the invitation is on the table..."

"I'll go after Young Master falls asleep," Xiao Chan said with a smile.

"Haha, then how about singing another song for me?"

"Alright, which one would Young Master like to hear?"

Songs of that era were mostly poems, and the various *cipai* (tune patterns) had fixed melodies, though these traditional singing styles had been lost by modern times. Xiao Chan didn't know many songs either. The two of them picked a poetry anthology and selected a song by the bed.

"Ode to the Fisherman's Son..."

"Xiao Chan doesn't know that one."

"What about 'Recalling Jiangnan'?"

"I know that one!" Xiao Chan eagerly prepared to sing.

"Never mind, I don't like that one."

"Then would Young Master like to hear 'Nian Nu Jiao'?"

"This 'Shuidiao Getou' isn't bad... Uh, 'Shuidiao Getou'..."

"Yes, I know that one, I know it!"

"You know 'Shuidiao Getou'?" Ning Yi thought for a moment. "Oh, Xiao Chan knows quite a lot."

"Shall I sing this one?"

"Uh... actually, sing another one, also 'Shuidiao Getou'..."

Bored, Ning Yi had actually recalled Faye Wong's "How Many Moons," but in this era, Su Shi apparently hadn't composed that particular poem yet. He had Xiao Chan bring him paper and brush, then awkwardly leaned over the bed, scribbling the poem onto the xuan paper. He asked Xiao Chan to sing it for him. Xiao Chan's eyes sparkled. "Did Young Master write this?"

"Oh." Ning Yi thought for a moment, saw Xiao Chan's expectant face, and shrugged. "Yes, I wrote it. It's for you. Hurry and sing it."

Xiao Chan studied the lyrics for a while, then began to sing earnestly according to the *cipai*'s rhythm. The little girl's voice was light and melodious, and though not very professional, her earnestness caused her to stumble once mid-song. Nevertheless, the sentiment was wonderful. After listening, Ning Yi smiled. "I'll teach you another way to sing it."

"Oh?" Xiao Chan blinked. "Another... way to sing it?"

"Yes, I'll sing a line, and you sing a line. It should be easy to learn... Haha, mainly I just want to hear it."

Although slightly confused, Xiao Chan immediately became happy at the prospect of learning something new. She had been with Ning Yi the longest and had gradually come to understand that her young master often possessed mysterious and interesting qualities. Under Ning Yi's guidance, Xiao Chan then learned the "Shuidiao Getou" line by line, following the novel melody.

"How many moons are there, I ask the blue sky with wine...""How many moons are there, I ask the blue sky with wine..."

"I wonder in the palaces in the sky...""I wonder in the palaces in the sky..."

"Hmm, not bad... what year is it tonight.""Hmm, not bad... what year is it tonight."

"Hehe, Young Master, sing the next line..."

Regardless, it wasn't long before Ning Yi heard a modern song, one he somewhat missed, in this era. In the future, if possible, he might copy down more contemporary songs to teach Xiao Chan to sing by herself, or find someone who could compose music and play instruments to arrange similar tunes. After all, it would just be for his private enjoyment; it didn't matter if they weren't suitable for public performance.

"What do you think? Does it sound good?"

"It sounds wonderful..." While *cipai* had fixed melodies, ancient songs and many operas shared a common origin and were mostly monophonic. In terms of intricate variations, they were ultimately inferior to modern songs. Furthermore, this song's melody followed a gentle style, not excessively unconventional for the era. If he had sung "Mice Love Rice" at that moment, Xiao Chan probably would have been either sickened or terrified. But now, the little girl's gaze had clearly shifted to one of admiration and reverence. "Young Master can even compose music..."

Ning Yi chuckled, "Just hum this song to yourself; don't go singing it everywhere. If a young girl like you dares to randomly change the *cipai* melody, people might say you're ignorant, understand?"

"Mm-hm." Xiao Chan clutched the xuan paper, nodding vigorously.

"All right... Good night." Ning Yi climbed into bed. A moment later, he turned his head and saw Xiao Chan still sitting on the stool by the bed, watching him, just as she had guarded him when he had a cold a few days prior. He waved her away. "I'm fine now, you can go out." Only then did Xiao Chan react, quickly standing up and heading for the door.

"Hey, take the invitation from the table, or they might not let you on the boat..."

After calling out, and once Xiao Chan had extinguished the lamp, taken the invitation, and closed the door behind her, Ning Yi let out a big yawn. The city's clamor still faintly reached him, and the faint glow reflected on the window was enough to confirm the ongoing excitement outside. He smiled, "A night of fish and dragon dances, indeed..." Then, he drifted off to sleep.

Xiao Chan stood blankly for a while, leaning against the wooden pillar in the room. Only after confirming Ning Yi was truly asleep did she go downstairs, return to her own room, light a lamp, and take out her brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Leaning over her desk, she recopied the lyrics, whose handwriting was not very neat because they had been written by the bed. The little girl's brush strokes were small and delicately elegant. She read Ning Yi's writing several more times before, with a flushed face, she hid it in the bottom-most drawer, as if she were a thief.

Afterwards, she left the courtyard. Seeing no one on the path, she quickly jogged towards the main gate, where she requested a carriage and a free coachman from the steward. Happily, she set off to join the festivities at the Puyuuan Poetry Gathering.

After all, the little girl still loved such lively occasions.