Chapter 14: As Expected, Confrontation Is Inevitable

The Qian brothers, however, clearly did not think so; they were convinced that they had done nothing wrong. Qian Shengwen, in particular, shouted loudly, “Shen Shi, this is Lady Xihou herself. If you cannot compose a poem, you’d better leave at once and not stand in the way of us becoming her favored guests.”

His younger brother was certainly blunt. “Favored guest” was merely a tactful way of putting it, but no matter how tactful, the essence was the same—they wished to sleep with her.

They were unmistakably blood brothers, both equally “straightforward.” Perhaps that was why they targeted the original Shen Shi for bullying; after all, apart from straightforward men of arms, they were no match for men of letters when it came to words and wit.

Sure enough, his big mouth had already provoked Lady Xihou on the stage.

It seemed he was making things difficult for Shen Shi, stepping on him to put himself in the spotlight. Yet, to declare in front of everyone that he wanted to bed the great beauty—well, well...

“Miss, this man is simply vile!” the maid beside Lady Xihou complained in dissatisfaction.

Glancing at Shen Shi, the little maid added, “Young Master Shen seems to be a true gentleman. It’s just a pity he’s a man of arms.”

“Oh? You look down on men of arms too?” Lady Xihou asked.

“Miss, how could I look down on him? Young Master Shen has been here before; you know he’s not one for composing poetry,” the maid said regretfully. “Otherwise, should he compose a verse and claim it surpasses theirs, it would infuriate them to death.”

“You little thing, so young yet so cunning,” Lady Xihou laughed.

“Hee-hee, I know, cheating is wrong,” the maid replied playfully.

“Qiu’er, give this to him,” Lady Xihou said, producing a scented sachet and handing it over.

“Miss, what are you—” The maid was stunned. They had just been talking about not cheating. Surely she wasn’t about to pass him a blank paper?

“Composing poetry requires inspiration and is taxing on the mind. How could you hope for a fine poem in such haste? Besides, you don’t like them, do you? Then let’s not let them win.”

“Yes, yes, Miss, you are always right.” As a servant, Qiu’er naturally echoed her mistress.

With the sachet in hand, maid Qiu’er headed straight for Shen Shi.

It would take Qiu’er some time to reach him, but Qian Shengwen, already swept up in his excitement, could not wait for praise.

“I happened to compose a poem in praise of chrysanthemums. Its meaning is profound, its conception lofty. Listen: ‘This year the blossoms flourish, best grown in a jade-white basin. Only because the autumn is pale, nowhere can frost be found.’ The words linger sweetly, evoking the quiet pleasure of planting and admiring chrysanthemums in the fields, the leisurely air of a recluse. The atmosphere is truly exalted!”

It’s said that every peddler boasts of his own wares, but really, is this a poem about snow? You’ve gone off-topic! If we’re talking about poems on chrysanthemums, well, I know one too.

“When chrysanthemums wither, your bottom aches; your blossom has faded to yellow. When chrysanthemums wither, your bottom throbs; your blossom is red and sore.”

The thought of this verse made Shen Shi chuckle to the point his stomach hurt. That “Chrysanthemums Wither”—no matter how many times he heard it, it was always hilarious.

At that moment, no one noticed the little maid Qiu’er quietly slip the sachet into Shen Shi’s hand and whisper, “Young Master Shen, this is from the lady.”

What lady? What was this all about?

Shen Shi was utterly confused.

But the maid, having handed him the item, turned and left without a word, giving him no chance to ask.

Opening the sachet, he discovered a slip of scented paper with a few short lines written on it: “A single plum in the cold, magpies alight on fragrance, a garden full of spring, and yet its secret is hard to hide.”

Each of these lines could be expanded by a word to make a quatrain, or by three to make a seven-character verse. What was more, the lady had deliberately left the lines incomplete—so that even if someone else saw them, nothing could be proven.

Who was this lady? Such intelligence and refinement. And why was she helping him?

While Shen Shi remained silent, Qian Shengwen pressed his advantage, demanding, “Well? This little poem of mine was composed on a whim. Though not quite to the theme, it is still a poem. Shen Shi, why not compose one yourself?”

Judging by his smug expression, this poem was certainly not composed on the spot. More likely, he’d paid for it.

Otherwise, why insist on reciting it even when the topic had changed?

Clearly, he was exceedingly proud of it, seizing this chance to show off. In this age, many men of letters still longed for fame through a single poem—everyone would rather lay all their works bare than hide any flaw.

Meanwhile, their carefully prepared supporters began applauding, all declaring how fine Qian Erlang’s poem was.

The atmosphere grew lively. Who cared about snow? Today, chrysanthemums it would be.

Shen Shi watched these men’s self-congratulation in a daze.

To be honest, there’s nothing wrong with seeking fame. But to disregard the topic entirely for it—that was rare.

Judging by the old scholar’s face, which looked as if he were suffering from constipation, one could tell just how displeased he was.

In fact, Shen Shi wondered if, had he remained unmoved a while longer, these two fools might dig their own graves.

Yet, after Qian Shengwen finished, he wore a look of triumph, though he tried to hide it behind a gentle smile.

Shen Shi was disgusted; to smile in such a nauseating manner—now that was a talent.

What should one do with such a talented man? Retaliate, of course!

He was not the original Shen Shi—he was no pushover to be bullied by them.

Just as Shen Shi was about to respond with a famous poem from later generations, someone else grew angry first.

Gongsun Ce suddenly stood up and declared loudly, “Who says my good friend Shen cannot compose poetry!” He was quite agitated.

“Oh? Then where is the poem?”

“Listen closely: ‘When chrysanthemums wither, your bottom aches; your blossom has faded to yellow. When chrysanthemums wither, your bottom throbs; your blossom is red and sore.’”

Silence! The entire hall fell instantly quiet.

Shen Shi looked at him.

As it turned out, when Shen Shi remembered “Chrysanthemums Wither,” he had accidentally murmured it out loud. Gongsun Ce, seeing his idol, was overwhelmed with excitement—like a peacock fanning his tail for a peahen. Unable to contain himself, he stood up for Shen Shi, and in his excitement, accidentally “betrayed” him.

“You—you dare insult me? Servants!”

It took Qian Shengwen a long moment to react, his face full of distress.

He didn’t quite get the joke about “chrysanthemums wither,” but everyone in the Song Dynasty knew what an aching bottom implied. Scholars were fond not only of lovely girls but also of handsome boys.

So, even without understanding the poem’s deeper meaning, he instinctively knew he’d been insulted.

Having been cursed in verse and unable to retort in kind, what now? Of course, he ordered his men to retaliate physically.

After all, as a timber merchant, he trusted in his men’s strength.

But Qian Shengju stopped him, saying, “Brother, don’t be rash. We are here to judge poetry, not to make trouble. Since he has composed a poem, it should be critiqued. Brother Shen’s poem lacks parallelism, its meter is uneven, even the lines are too short. Esteemed scholar, does Shen Shi have any literary talent? Please, provide your judgment.”

Ah—those were well-chosen words—not only magnanimous, but also exposing Shen Shi’s flaws.

Could it be that for once, his intelligence was in full force?