Chapter 41: The Flower Viewing Gathering at Lanyue

“Hiss—an immortal, this is a true immortal!” Zhao Zhen exclaimed, not without emotion. The most powerful form of deception in this world isn’t a meticulously crafted lie without flaws. The most powerful deception is when one wishes to be deceived. The Zhao family exemplified this. Their claim to the throne was never entirely legitimate, and infighting among brothers for positions had always been their family’s vice. Let alone that Shen Shi’s cultivation system was one honed and perfected in later generations—even if it were only half true, he was willing to believe it.

“Imperial Uncle, can this man be invited to the capital?” Upon encountering such a person, Zhao Zhen’s first thought was to bring him in.

“Well…” Cao You was in a difficult position. He wasn’t sure if Shen Shi would be willing to come, since they were merely acquaintances.

“That’s true. Why would a man who walks with immortals so easily come to the capital?” Since Cao You didn’t answer, Zhao Zhen provided himself with an explanation.

“Ah, Your Majesty, there’s something else. His family comes from a line of generals. They hope he can pass the imperial examinations. Perhaps Your Majesty could use this as an approach.” Cao You shared what he knew about Shen Shi.

“A family of generals? Which one?” Zhao Zhen asked urgently.

“The surname is Shen, from Jinhua.”

“Shen of Jinhua? Someone, bring me the records of the military families.” At once, Zhao Zhen ordered the archives to be fetched.

The Zhao family’s wariness of military families was evident. They kept a close eye on them—how many children each household had, their professions, whether they kept horses at home, and so on. Every detail was meticulously recorded.

Shen Shi’s name was indeed in the register, but all it said was his name, surname, and age—nothing more. By Zhao Zhen’s reign, he was the fourth emperor of the Song, and the Shen family had already declined. Their moment of glory had been marching north with Zhao Kuangyi.

As for Zhao Kuangyi, well… He was hopeless at war, losing every battle he fought. With such a sovereign, the Shen family’s fate could never be bright.

In fact, the very fact that the Shen family had settled in Jinhua, not Kaifeng, spoke volumes about their lack of distinction.

“Is this the one?” Zhao Zhen asked as he found Shen Shi’s name.

“Yes, Your Majesty, this is he.” Upon seeing Shen Shi’s name, Cao You nodded.

“Hiss—so young?”

“Your Majesty, in the world of immortals, there are those who are chosen and ascend,” Cao You reminded softly.

“Hmm.” Zhao Zhen nodded, though he felt a twinge of regret that Shen Shi was not some white-haired youth with a child’s face.

“Since he comes from a military family, let’s grant him the title of Righteous and Brave Commandant.” He was so young, Zhao Zhen hesitated, but decided to reward Shen Shi anyway—what if he truly was an immortal, after all?

“A worthy reward for presenting such a treasure, Your Majesty’s wisdom is boundless.”

Neither Cao You nor Empress Cao objected. After all, this was the Song dynasty, not the Han; the title of Commandant meant little. In the early Song, following the Five Dynasties’ practices, there were three types of official titles: official, post, and appointment. The “official” referred to formal court titles—various positions in the ministries and departments. Until the Yuanfeng Reforms, these determined an official’s rank and salary and were called honorary officials. After the reforms, they became “graded officials,” equivalent to high civil ranks and salary levels—though in later times people referred to the pre-reform honorary posts as “graded officials.”

“Post” referred to academic or ceremonial positions—scholar, attendant, compiler, and so on. These were often honorary, not actual positions, especially outside the early Song. “Appointments” sometimes overlapped with “posts,” but generally meant real administrative duties. The name of the office would be prefixed by words like “administrator,” “supervisor,” “inspector,” and so forth.

As for the Righteous and Brave Commandant, it was merely a ninth-rank title, without actual post or appointment—essentially equivalent to a modern “commendation for outstanding work.” Nothing more.

It was like a chamber pot slipped quietly into the bureaucracy; who knew if Shen Shi would find it amusing in hindsight.

Meanwhile, the “Flower Viewing Gathering” at Jinfu Temple had finally been set.

“This year’s gathering is not only grand in scale, but even the Marquis Xihou will attend. He’s taken quite a liking to you, so don’t let him down,” Kong Xueli reported gleefully, teasing as he played matchmaker.

Marquis Xihou’s calligraphy was well-known, so when Shen Shi’s poem from that day spread, many learned of the marquis’s favor. A woman showing kindness to a man—whether in ancient or modern times—was always a good topic.

“Nonsense. Where is the gathering being held?” Shen Shi first rebuked him, then quietly inquired.

“Tch, as if you weren’t itching to go!”

Kong Xueli exchanged a knowing, mischievous glance with Gongsun Ce beside him—the kind of smile all men understood.

“Of course you have to go. Do you know, since the last poetry meeting, your reputation has grown considerably.” But Gongsun Ce didn’t join in the banter; instead, he spoke earnestly of Shen Shi’s rising fame since his poetic debut.

Since Gongsun Ce passed the exams, he had become even more serious.

“So, where is it being held?” Shen Shi pressed, “If you two won’t tell me, I’ll busy myself elsewhere.”

“Heh, still our virtuous friend—look how eager he is.” Kong Xueli teased Shen Shi once more before finally revealing, “All right, I’ll tell you: it’s at Lanruo Temple.”

“What? Lanruo Temple?”

Shen Shi’s face changed instantly at the name, and he shot up reflexively.

“What’s gotten into you, my friend? Isn’t it always held at Lanruo Temple? What’s so strange about that?” Kong Xueli was puzzled.

Lanruo Temple? That was strange enough! In Shen Shi’s questioning, he learned that this Lanruo Temple was neither haunted nor home to any demonic tree spirits; its monks and devotees outnumbered the ghosts, and it was indeed a renowned Tang-era monastery.

“So it’s not an abandoned temple? There’s no swordsman named Yan Chixia living there?”

Shen Shi blinked, reciting the plot of “A Chinese Ghost Story.” He himself didn’t know whether he wanted such a place to exist or not.

“Your tales are amusing, but you should spend less time with supernatural stories and more with the classics,” his friends advised earnestly, quoting the sages: “The gentleman does not speak of the strange, the violent, or the supernatural…”

Shen Shi was left speechless.