Chapter 40: One Night of Fish and Dragon Dance (Part Five)

"A thousand trees blossomed in the east wind on the night."

In the hall on the second floor of the Old Rain Pavilion, Li Pin's clear voice reached everyone's ears. On a nearby table, Ning Yi swiftly wielded his brush, writing rapidly. As soon as the first line was spoken, many people's expressions changed. Some focused intently, waiting carefully for the next line, while others frowned, a bad feeling rising in their hearts.

Among those present, Su Chonghua leaned towards the view that Ning Yi possessed only minor talents. He naturally disbelieved the story that "Prelude to Water Tune" was composed by a Taoist priest. Being at Yushan Academy, he had a considerable understanding of Ning Yi's daily methods. His teaching style was so colloquial it bordered on childish. While Ning Yi might have read the classics, histories, and philosophical works, Su Chonghua found it hard to believe he possessed any true academic talent. Even though Song Mao himself had praised Ning Yi's teaching methods that day, Su Chonghua considered it a mere trick, perhaps effective for a short time but ultimately undignified in the long run.

Actually, he had no objection to how Ning Yi idled his days away. He had understood Grandfather Su's intentions clearly from the beginning. As someone who had experienced officialdom, he had a high tolerance for various messy affairs. What was wrong with buying a poem to gain a reputation as a scholar? If he could have done that in his younger days, he wouldn't have hesitated. Therefore, he never offered an opinion on Ning Yi's teaching. However, Song Mao's praise changed things. When Grandfather Su sought out Ning Yi on Lunar New Year's Day to discuss teaching, Su Chonghua felt a strong sense of threat.

Ning Yi had always acted discreetly, not associating with too many people, making him unassailable. As a member of the Su family, and with Grandfather Su's word, it was almost impossible to undermine him within the household. But tonight presented a truly good opportunity; his accidental stroll here was a chance he couldn't pass up. He thought for a moment and immediately decided to ask Puyang Yi to summon Ning Yi. Once Ning Yi was present, as an elder, Su Chonghua could simply ask him to compose a poem, and Ning Yi would be unable to refuse. Moreover, Xue Jin was there to fan the flames, along with so many other scholars. As the saying goes, scholars often disparage each other. If one poem at Mid-Autumn Festival overshadowed everyone else, and then there was no further display, who would genuinely respect him?

Su Chonghua's calculation was similar to Su Wenxing's and others' thinking on the day Song Mao arrived at the Su residence: to let others expose Ning Yi's true nature. Su Chonghua was prepared to ruin Ning Yi's reputation that very night. Everything unfolded just as he had anticipated. Amidst the murmuring, people indeed refused to let Ning Yi leave. Xue Jin's exaggerated performance, though theatrical, was perfectly suited to the situation here, and his specific remark was like the last straw that broke the camel's back, falling precisely into place.

However, if Ning Yi's subsequent gaze surprised him, then the promptness with which Ning Yi took up his brush immediately made Su Chonghua's heart sink, realizing his calculation was flawed. With the appearance of the very first line of the poem, he understood that at the peak of his strategic pride, he had been outmaneuvered.

It was too decisive.

Although their perspectives might have differed, both he and Xue Jin felt the same way: Ning Yi's composed demeanor could only mean he had no problem with this task. When the first line of the poem appeared, others hadn't even had time to properly ponder it. Of course, a single line could at most be called impeccable, neither truly good nor bad. Yet, moments later, when Li Pin recited, "More are blown down, like stars in the rain," the initial outline of the verse was already apparent to everyone. A grand and magnificent atmosphere unfurled as the lines took shape.

The brush swiftly moved."Precious steeds and carved carriages... scent fills the road.""Phoenix flutes resound...""Jade wine cups glow...""All night—fish and dragons dance—"

As the first stanza was completed, Su Chonghua sat there, sighing softly. He raised the wine cup before him, took a sip, and closed his eyes, knowing that his plans for the evening had all come to nothing. The feeling was like a failed political maneuver, a complete miscalculation, utterly unpleasant. He truly felt he couldn't see through this young man anymore. On the other side, Xue Jin's mouth was slightly agape, his expression one of astonishment, blinking speechlessly. The entire hall was silent; some people were repeating the lines of the poem, while the sounds of commotion from outside drifted in.

If the Mid-Autumn Festival's "Prelude to Water Tune" was a gradual progression, starting simply and then expanding into a vast, elegant, and timeless atmosphere with subtle mastery, then the current poem began with an unambiguous grandiosity, like splash-ink landscape painting or frenzied cursive calligraphy. From the very beginning, it unfurled a magnificent scene with the most splendid brushstrokes. "A thousand trees blossomed in the east wind on the night. More are blown down, like stars in the rain. Precious steeds and carved carriages, scent fills the road. Phoenix flutes resound, jade wine cups glow, all night fish and dragons dance." This single stanza, with its continuous succession of vivid imagery, already described the Lantern Festival night to perfection, as if condensing its vibrancy manifold and presenting it anew before everyone's eyes.

The atmosphere in the hall grew somewhat solemn. Ning Yi paused, looking back, ostensibly to gauge everyone's reactions. In reality, he was still observing the blue-clad maid moving about. While writing the poem, he had also occasionally glanced at her movements. She had merely cast a puzzled look in his direction before resuming her focused work, pouring wine and such. At this moment, she stood slightly sideways by a pillar, her gaze subtly directed towards the corridor outside the window. Within the entire hall, it was unlikely anyone besides Ning Yi would have noticed her.

Ning Yi turned back, twirling his brush in the inkstone, and murmured, "Moth-like ornaments, willow-like hair, gold threads..." Li Pin didn't quite hear him and asked, "Hm?" He only understood when Ning Yi's brush began to move.

"Moth-like ornaments, willow-like hair, gold threads..."

As the words were still being written, Ning Yi's gaze shifted. The blue-clad maid turned again to pour wine for someone, her eyes subtly moving to the other side. In the corridor, two men in blue robes had also turned and were looking inside. Puyang Yi seemed to notice this. A participant, likely of some standing, went to inquire and negotiate, speaking quietly by the doorway. Everyone else was engrossed in listening to the poem, so naturally, no one paid them any mind.

Ning Yi raised his brush and wrote the next line: "Laughter and soft whispers, a subtle fragrance lingers as they depart."

The two blue-clad military men, dressed in short jackets, ultimately dared not disrupt such a large gathering of scholars. The voices there were kept low. Eventually, they turned and walked towards the end of the corridor, glancing in through the window as they went. Ning Yi paused after writing that line. The two men disappeared from the window on that side, and the blue-clad woman also walked along the circular path, carrying her wine pot towards the entrance. She poured wine for people at a nearby table and then waited for a moment, presumably calculating the time it would take for the two men to reach the third floor.

"I sought him through crowds, a thousand times..."

As Li Pin's voice rang out, Ning Yi, from the corner of his eye, observed the woman's movements. At this moment, she finally exited the hall unnoticed. She glanced towards the end of the corridor, perhaps seeing that the blue-clad men were no longer there, and was about to move on when the next line, "Suddenly I turned my head," was recited. The woman seemed to notice something, her figure paused, and her gaze swept towards him, as if she frowned slightly. With a fleeting glance, Ning Yi discreetly withdrew his eyes and focused on writing the last line of the poem.

After the last stroke fell, Li Pin, standing nearby, also sighed, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings: "Suddenly I turned my head... and found him where the lights were dim." As the line concluded, someone in the quiet sighed, "Excellent..." Grandmaster Qilan, from her side of the hall, had long listened with sparkling eyes. Upon hearing, "I sought him through crowds, a thousand times, suddenly I turned my head, and found him where the lights were dim," she involuntarily stood up, wanting to say something or approach him. She then realized it might be inappropriate, gently bit her lower lip, wrung her handkerchief, and turned to look to the side. More people were still contemplating the profound meaning of the second stanza. Ning Yi set down his brush. Li Pin carefully picked up the rice paper, shook it gently, then reread it meticulously before handing it to Puyang Yi. Looking at Ning Yi, he let out an ineffable sigh, then stepped back and bowed.

The first stanza of the poem depicted the Lantern Festival's grandeur with admirable flourish, already a remarkably stunning piece of verse even in its partial form. Yet, the second stanza unexpectedly drew a deeper meaning from this very portrayal of extravagance. The first stanza was immersed in the worldly, the second detached from it; the contrasting juxtaposition created an indescribable impact. Among those present, some were still pondering, while others who understood merely sighed softly, their gazes complex. This profound imagery, in the current context, certainly held a specific implication.

Naturally, a few people immediately observed the reactions of others. Xue Jin, for instance, was the first to notice Grandmaster Qilan standing up. Having just uttered those words, he was now made a laughingstock by a single poem. Of course, no one was in the mood to pay him any mind at that moment, but he felt an inexpressible indignation, as it was he who had been confronting Ning Yi. A moment later, he couldn't help but say, "Then... why did you tell your family elders that 'Prelude to Water Tune' was composed by a Taoist priest?"

Ning Yi put down his brush, his mind calculating the moment the blue-clad maid had disappeared from outside the window. He had no particular feelings about people like Xue Jin. Hearing him speak now, Ning Yi glanced at him with a smile. "Brother Xue, where did you hear this from?"

Xue Jin was stunned. "Though it's hearsay, it was described vividly. Did... did you actually say it?"

Ning Yi looked at him for a few seconds, blinked, and smiled. "I did say it, but rumors stop with the wise. Perhaps Brother Xue missed half a sentence."

During their conversation, Xue Jin's tone was slightly elevated, but Ning Yi spoke calmly, his voice likely not carrying as far as Li Pin's. However, as soon as he uttered that sentence, Su Chonghua on the other side widened his eyes, clearly not expecting such a remark from him. Xue Jin's face showed bewilderment. Before he could speak, Ning Yi cupped his hands to those around him. "I genuinely have important matters to attend to, this is no deception. I shall take my leave now. Farewell."

By this point, no one dared to stop him. Some even cupped their hands in a bow, saying, "Brother Ning, you should go quickly if you have urgent matters," or "No worries, no worries."

Xue Jin, on this side, widened his eyes. "You..." Just as the word left his mouth, Ning Yi patted his shoulder, feigning that he had something to say. Li Pin, Wu Qihao, Puyang Yi, and others around them concentrated, listening. Two seconds later, "That Taoist that day..." Ning Yi was heard saying, "...recited two poems."

He didn't actually lower his voice. Ning Yi finished speaking with a straight face, nodded, and turned to leave. Xue Jin's face flushed crimson, unable to utter a word. Xiao Chan, who had been silently memorizing the lines behind others, now quickly smiled and followed him out. The two, one after the other, disappeared down the corridor.

The scene grew quiet for a moment; others could not immediately find much to discuss. Li Pin looked at the poem and chuckled, saying, "With this poem out, I'm afraid it will be quite difficult to write Lantern Festival poems now."

Puyang Yi nodded, flicked the rice paper, and sighed, "What a poem..." He then passed it around for others to read. On her side, Qilan turned to gaze at the window where Ning Yi and Xiao Chan had disappeared. She sat down, a little wistful, but moments later, she smiled again, chatting normally with those around her, stirring the atmosphere. She was waiting for the poem to be circulated so she could perform it.

Half an hour later, the poem "Green Jade Case" spread throughout Jiangning.

A note on century eggs: I've eaten them directly since I was a child. I don't like dipping them in vinegar, soy sauce, or mixing them in various ways; I truly can't eat them like that. In my area, everyone I knew seemed to eat them the same way. Only poorly preserved ones had an alkaline taste. However, I can understand that people have all sorts of ways of eating them. What I find harder to understand are claims that eating them directly is impossible, or even that it could kill you... There are all sorts of things in the world, all sorts of different ways of living, different lives, and different forms of happiness. Apparently, having a century egg as a child made me quite happy.

It's the same with MSG. Some people don't eat it, but others do, and there seems to be nothing incomprehensible about that, right? Many restaurants still use MSG for flavor. When I returned to my rural home for the Qingming Festival, the dishes there always tasted quite fishy, but people from my hometown considered them delicious; they were used to it. What would ancient seasonings have been like, with far fewer options than today? Someone in the comment section also mentioned that in ancient times, someone became an imperial chef by using sea cucumbers, which are ninety percent MSG. Let's not discuss this matter further.

A new week has begun. There should be another update in the early hours—it might even be tomorrow morning, as this chapter was written quite late. Waiting is not advised.