Chapter 12: On the Painted Boat

It was almost midnight, and the bustle of Jiangning City was nearing its peak. The carriage, having set out from the Su Residence, cut across the less crowded roads and gradually slowed as it approached Wuyi Lane.

Along the way, countless festive lights flickered outside the carriage. Peeking through the curtain, even typically quiet streets were bustling with activity. By the time they reached the commercial street near Wuyi Lane, the road ahead was so densely packed with people that the carriage could barely advance, as if mired in mud. A large dragon dance troupe, complete with gongs and drums, was approaching from that direction, forcing the young coachman to pull the carriage to the side.

“Sister Xiaochang, it’s impassable ahead.”

The young man, though likely a year or two older than Xiaochang, still addressed her as ‘Sister’. While it appeared Xiaochang had simply been running errands for Ning Yi these past few months, in reality, she and her two other sisters had been training under Su Tan’er for years. As Su Tan’er was likely to assume leadership of the Su family in the future, her three most trusted maids commanded respect even from stewards of varying ranks. This explained why a young girl like her could readily summon a carriage. The young man, having recently joined the Su Residence and signed a twenty-year indenture, was somewhat aware of her standing, and thus treated her with deference, regarding the seemingly younger girl with a touch of curiosity.

“I see it,” Xiaochang replied, pulling back the curtain and hopping directly from the carriage. She turned, gave him a smile, and then waved her hand. “Thank you!”

“M-my name is Dongzhu,” the young man stammered, summoning his courage. He then looked up. “There are too many people up ahead; let me escort you.”

“Brother Dongzhu,” Xiaochang said with a grateful bow, then waved again and turned. “No need, I’ll be fine.” She flitted into the dense crowd like a butterfly, her small hand visible for a few final waves in the air before she was swallowed up and disappeared from view.

Xiaochang was already intimately familiar with Suzhou City, having explored it countless times. Setting aside any extreme circumstances, purely in terms of her social skills, ability to manage tasks, and handle minor inconveniences, the seemingly innocent and charming Xiaochang was far more capable than the rural boy, Dongzhu. Furthermore, in such a bustling gathering, it was highly improbable that anyone would trouble a young girl merely out to enjoy the festivities. While it was true that dissolute scions, rascals, and bullies were common in those times, encountering them was not an everyday occurrence.

Amidst the boisterous sounds, she skipped through the throngs watching the dragon dance. From a nearby brothel, faint, languid singing drifted, blending into the fervent street clamor. Before long, a person hurried from the end of the street, holding a sheet of Xuan paper: “Lichuan Poetry Society, Young Master Tang Yu’s new poem on bamboo…” He then affixed the paper to a poetry review board in front of a shop. With people swarming everywhere, an old man pushing a cart selling tea eggs and thousand-layer pancakes smiled as he navigated through the crowd. Xiaochang quickly dodged the cart as well, smiling as she followed to get a closer look at the spectacle.

After a quick glance at a few lines, Xiaochang promptly followed the flow of people towards the riverside at the end of the street. Wuyi Lane, a narrow yet lively alley, was just a short distance from this thoroughfare, brightly lit and crowded. Closer to the riverbank, the bustling Confucius Temple was already visible.

This riverside street was the most dazzling jewel of Jiangning City. The thoroughfares were adorned with exquisite lanterns. The six connected pleasure boats of the Puyuan Poetry Society cruised the Qinhuai River all night, and by this hour, they were certain to pass by this location. Having experience attending poetry gatherings, Xiaochang came directly here to wait. She located a curio shop, operated by the Pu family, along the roadside and presented her invitation. The shop promptly dispatched someone to hail a small boat. At that very moment, the resplendent 'water dragon palace' was already visible in the distance at one end of the Qinhuai River, sailing towards them, splendidly illuminated amidst numerous other pleasure boats.

Small boats along the river intermittently approached and departed. Soon, this particular small boat, gently illuminated by the ambient lights, pushed off from the bank and glided towards the massive connected vessel nearing the center of the river. At the bow, the little girl, with her fingers lightly interlinked, gazed up at the approaching pleasure boat. The glow from its lanterns gradually illuminated her charming bun and her small face, tinged with a hint of longing. Music wafted from the riverbanks, suggesting that another song and dance performance within was likely nearing its conclusion. Yet, she felt no regret; simply being able to come and enjoy herself was wonderful enough. If she could learn a few new tunes here... She recalled how her brother-in-law enjoyed listening to songs in the evening... Yes, her brother-in-law would surely be delighted.

Inside the pleasure boat, the song and dance concluded, succeeded by enthusiastic applause. Subsequently, small boats arriving from the shore delivered exceptional verses from various major poetry gatherings, some even accompanied by praise and critiques from acclaimed masters. A poetry gathering could not possibly consist solely of a large group of people idly sitting and composing or appreciating poetry. In fact, from the moment the pleasure boats embarked, numerous activities were offered, such as listening to lyrics and music, solving lantern riddles, and enjoying the scenery, all designed to foster atmosphere and inspiration. Nevertheless, by this point, the event was finally entering its most critical phase. Although the night’s festivities were slated to continue past the hour of Chou (after 3 AM), in truth, the poetry gathering would gradually wind down after the hour of Zi (midnight).

The primary reason was that most elderly attendees, or middle-aged individuals with delicate health—poets often suffered from poor constitutions—would only stay until this time. Beyond this hour, their spirits would wane, and they would typically head home. In literary circles, those who commanded a degree of prestige were, naturally, these very individuals. For anyone aspiring to gain recognition and attention tonight, their opinions were of paramount importance. Once they departed, what remained was truly a game for talented scholars and beautiful women; courtship would only become the central theme after midnight, akin to a grand gathering involving courtesans. While in an era where visiting courtesans was prevalent, this activity could indeed be cloaked in elegant terminology, its significance paled in comparison to the earlier period. Given a choice between renown and beauty, most men of this era would invariably choose fame first.

Thus, by this hour, a variety of excellent poems had already been circulated; in fact, some of the finest had already made their rounds. Several moon-themed poems tonight were astonishingly brilliant. Su Tan’er had also transcribed a few onto the plain white notepaper before her, and at that moment, she was quietly conversing with an acquaintance, a lady from the Wu Residence, seated beside her.

She, too, possessed a fondness for poetry. While not particularly skilled herself, poets in that era were akin to modern-day celebrities; what young woman didn’t harbor a touch of romantic idealism? Her lack of personal aptitude only deepened her admiration for poetry, and the sight of a talented scholar eloquently displaying his literary gifts before an audience naturally captivated her.

Naturally, this was merely one facet of her spiritual pursuits, much like how many modern young women admire Andy Lau. Despite her appreciation, she typically didn’t express it overtly. Furthermore, her own husband, Ning Yi, was likely not very adept at poetry; she had understood this clearly after seeing his poem “Three Lotus Roots Floating in the Green Pond, A Raft Guided by Love's Thought,” and he himself had confessed as much. But in truth, this was of no consequence.

A little while later, Xiaochang arrived, accompanied by a guiding maid.

“Has the master gone to bed?”

“Yes, he has.”

“Juan’er and Xing’er are over there; how about they add another cushion and squeeze in?”

“Very well, Miss, I’m going over now… Good evening, Miss Wu San.”

After exchanging greetings with the lady from the Wu Residence, Xiaochang trotted towards the two young maids who were waving to her. Juan’er and Xing’er were seated together at a small table piled with exquisite fruits and delicacies. Xiaochang squeezed in between them, and the three girls giggled as they huddled together.

Not far off, Su Tan’er and the lady from the Wu Residence rose and moved about. In gatherings of this nature, male and female guests were typically separated, often by screens, though this division was not strictly enforced. The Puyuan Poetry Society had not exclusively invited unmarried young ladies; rather, it primarily welcomed couples attending with their families. While a partial separation was maintained and everyone observed proper etiquette, spouses could still meet and converse when moving around. Su Tan’er accompanied the Wu lady to the ship’s rail to admire the illuminated shore, and the latter’s husband soon joined them. The Wu Residence operated Jiangning’s largest textile business, and both families had prior acquaintance. After exchanging pleasantries and discussing textile matters, Su Tan’er had considered discreetly allowing the couple to share private words. Just then, Xue Jin and several other young gentlemen approached, fanning themselves with folding fans. They wore scholar’s turbans and had exchanged their merchant attire for student garb. As the evening breeze drifted, they exuded an air of refined scholarly elegance—or perhaps, the demeanor of a folding fan and scholarly turban.

Xue Jin had somewhat distinguished himself this evening; he had just composed a moon-themed poem that garnered much acclaim, making it one of the most notable verses at the Puyuan Poetry Society tonight. As he approached, the gentleman from the Wu Residence cupped his hands and chuckled, “Brother Xue, your talent is truly immense. Tonight, you are likely to win the favor of Miss Qilan. My heartiest congratulations!”

Qilan was one of the most renowned courtesans in the Qinhuai region in recent years, celebrated for both her talent and beauty, offering her art but not her person. Her connection with the Pu family enabled her invitation to this event. She would select poems she favored to sing a few pieces in the evening, and while she naturally had her own prepared performances, the verses she chose to perform were often those that had gained the most prominence during a particular phase of the poetry gathering.

The dynamics involved were complex; talent alone wasn’t the sole determinant, though it certainly influenced the majority of outcomes. Xue Jin’s poem was commendable, and his family background was strong, making him a likely candidate for the spotlight. Should he gain favor here, he might, in the ensuing months, have opportunities to cultivate a closer relationship with Miss Qilan, perhaps receiving invitations to banquets or to engage in discussions on poetry and literature—a highly prestigious affair. And if he could further win her over, perhaps even take her as a concubine, that would be seen as the ultimate testament to his masculine allure.

For centuries, such narratives have unfolded along the Qinhuai River, annually emerging as popular topics for varying durations. Men featured in these tales naturally garnered considerable fame; their names would then be whispered, inspiring envy from others who regarded them as romantic, accomplished scholars, their reputations shining brighter.

Upon receiving praise, Xue Jin naturally offered a modest disclaimer. The lady from the Wu Residence beside him also smiled, “Your poetry, Young Master Xue, truly moved me somewhat.” Su Tan’er, too, admired the verse and offered a few words of commendation. In reality, it was a matter of reciprocal flattery; those who were genuinely in the know, such as the Wu lady and Su Tan’er, understood that the other’s poems were likely purchased from a renowned master simply to make an impression.

Xue Jin smiled contentedly, offering a few more humble remarks. After a brief exchange, he remarked, “It is a pity Brother Ning could not attend. Otherwise, witnessing such a grand occasion, he would surely have produced a masterpiece…”

Su Tan’er frowned slightly. The group appeared to be in high spirits. A middle-aged man from the Pu family, one of the hosts, approached them. This man was Puyang Yu, the younger brother of the Pu family head, who had earlier passed the provincial examination and possessed some literary talent. He had been moving about, entertaining guests, and now, with a smile, he interjected, inquiring about their discussion. Xue Jin then explained that Su Tan’er’s husband, Ning Yi, had originally intended to come but had unfortunately caught a cold in recent days, which was a great shame, considering Ning Yi’s talent, and so forth.

“I rather doubt it,” someone from behind interjected. “I’ve heard that Ning Yi, despite studying for a few years, is nothing but a mediocre talent. His presence or absence would make no difference.”

Xue Jin turned, smiling. “Brother Feng, you shouldn’t speak so carelessly. I, too, have witnessed Brother Ning’s distinguished bearing and presence. The Su family searched meticulously before finally selecting Brother Ning…”

Those from the Wu Residence who were acquainted with Su Tan’er knew that her husband, Ning Yi, possessed no particular talent. Thus, in their earlier conversation, while they inquired about Ning Yi’s health, they carefully avoided any mention of his poetic or literary abilities. Observing the performance now unfolding, the two from the Wu family naturally discerned Xue Jin’s intentions. Xue Jin had previously pursued Su Tan’er, and his failed marriage proposal had left him with lingering resentment, prompting these subtle machinations. Frankly, his act lacked finesse, yet its impact would not be diminished. If he continued speaking this way, it was highly probable that rumors of Su Tan’er marrying a good-for-nothing would spread throughout their social circles by tomorrow. The Wu lady subtly signaled her husband, hoping he would interject. He noticed her gesture but hesitated for a moment, lost in thought. Su Tan’er, a smile on her face, was about to speak when Xiaochang emerged from beside her.

“Yes, my master is actually very good at writing poetry!” She had been playfully eating with Juan’er and Xing’er, holding a piece of pastry and attempting to perform a magic trick Ning Yi had taught her, only for it to fail and the pastry to fall to the floor. The three girls then noticed the situation unfolding beside them. Juan’er and Xing’er commented that Young Master Xue seemed to have ill intentions. Xiaochang, after a moment’s thought, moved closer. “My master even wrote a poem tonight!”

At the little girl’s words, both Xue Jin and Su Tan’er were momentarily taken aback. After a brief pause, Xue Jin chuckled. “Oh, has Brother Ning also produced a masterpiece? Excellent! Please, do bring it out for everyone to admire.”

He projected an air of delighted openness, though inwardly, he was already chuckling. He had long since investigated Ning Yi’s scholarly abilities; while Ning Yi had studied for years and could indeed compose poems, the quality of his verses was another matter entirely. Xue Jin now simply assumed Xiaochang lacked discernment. Had the situation remained as it was, perhaps a few people would have gossiped, but it would have been of little consequence. However, if a truly poor poem were presented for public “critique,” the impact would be utterly damning, conclusively proving Ning Yi’s alleged lack of talent.

“Mm, alright,” Xiaochang nodded, pulling a folded sheet of paper from her clothing and chattering, “Earlier this evening, Master wasn’t feeling well and wanted to hear me sing, so I brought him a book of poetry to choose a verse. But Master said he didn’t particularly like any of them, so he wrote one himself. Here, it’s this one; I copied it down myself…”

He didn’t like any of *those*, so he wrote one himself… What an audacious claim! Su Tan’er and Puyang Yu beside her both furrowed their brows, while only Xue Jin’s smile grew brighter and more earnest. As Xiaochang spoke, she handed the notepaper to Su Tan’er, whose expression was still wavering with doubt. Su Tan’er glanced at the Xuan paper, confirmed there were indeed characters, then looked at Xiaochang again, before finally turning her attention fully back to the paper, her lips slightly parted as she silently read the words aloud.

Halfway through her silent reading, the movement of her lips slowed, and the expression in her eyes grew increasingly complex. Finally, her gaze settled. She glanced at Xiaochang again before returning to silently recite the poem on the paper. In front, Xue Jin smiled, craning his neck to peer over. Although he couldn’t see, he was still very pleased…

What’s the use of reading it silently? You’ll have to show it to everyone eventually, and then I can just read it aloud for you, ha!

He thought to himself, gleeful as if a mischievous plan had succeeded.

Moments later, a dazzling burst of fireworks erupted from the side of the boat. Amidst the magnificent glow, Su Tan’er finally presented the verses.

“Uncle Puyang, please offer your critique…”

Puyang Yu had already sensed the underlying current. He nodded and smiled. He held deep affection for this young lady of the Su family, who, though appearing delicate, was truly a force to be reckoned with. Even if she had taken a husband with limited scholarly talent, such occurrences were not uncommon. Conversely, Xue Jin’s brash and cutting manner made him unpopular. Puyang Yu immediately resolved that, even if the poem proved unremarkable, he would offer some favorable remarks to smooth things over. He took the verses, lowered his gaze, and began to ponder what kind of evaluation he should provide.

As fireworks soared, others awaited his initial commentary. Xue Jin offered a refined, gentle, and humble smile. Su Tan’er cast a glance at him, then her gaze returned to the notepaper in Puyang Yu’s hand. Lightly, she bit her lower lip.

Amidst the flickering lights, her eyes held a complex, inexpressible depth…