Chapter 86: Merlin

In the blink of an eye, the red sun in the sky disappeared, casting a gloomy light over the world. Yang Shiqi and Yang Rong looked up and said it would snow, prompting the others to laugh in amusement. Some said the white snow paired with red plum blossoms was perfectly fitting for the season; others claimed that good snow foretold a bountiful harvest. Still others shook their heads, sympathizing with the poor people in the city during this time, while some mentioned the inconvenience caused by frozen waterways for transportation… In short, just the mere mention of snow brought the atmosphere to life.

Zhang Yue could already see the grove of red plum blossoms from afar. Beyond a low wall, countless plum blossoms, as red as rouge, shone brightly, exuding a vibrant spirit amidst the harsh winter. Only upon approaching did he realize the entire back garden was filled with plum trees, their blossoms in full bloom. A gust of cold wind blew, scattering petals across the ground, yet they still retained their bright red glow.

At that moment, Wan Shijie, who had initially joked about picking a red plum blossom with the names of the two Yangs to make it as valuable as paper in Luoyang, picked one and sniffed it gently before saying with a smile, “These red plum blossoms are so beautiful, but without snow to contrast them, it’s a shame if they fall into the mud. No wonder Shi Tao wrote, ‘Scattered and turned to dust, their fragrance remains.’”

By then, everyone else had reached the pavilion, with Zhang Yue falling behind. Hearing this, he smiled and said, “What’s there to be sorry about? Though the fallen petals turn to mud, they nourish the land and will allow even more vibrant red plum blossoms to bloom next year. Besides, even if these blossoms aren’t blown away by the wind now, they will wither eventually. So what’s the difference between early or late?”

Wan Shijie merely sighed casually, not expecting Zhang Yue to respond. After a brief pause, he burst into laughter and said, “Well said! I really missed that point! All things in the world go through cycles of flourishing and withering—why insist on eternal glory? I didn’t expect you, Yuan Jie, to be so open-minded at such a young age.”

Then, he suddenly lowered his voice and winked, saying, “We’re all here today to engage in literary discussions. Since we’re in this plum blossom grove, it’s likely we’ll end up reciting poems about plum blossoms or snow—old-fashioned stuff. There are countless such poems throughout history, with nothing new about them. But since you’re new here, those guys will surely target you first. You’d better be prepared.”

Watching Wan Shijie stride into the pavilion with ease, Zhang Yue forced a wry smile and followed. He mentally reviewed famous poems about snow and plum blossoms from past ages, only to be shocked to find that in this era, the two he could recall were both masterpieces by Chairman Mao. Since his rebirth, aside from the incident with the tea couplets, he had not engaged in any act of plagiarism. Now, he figured that if things weren’t too urgent, he could scribble a poem to suffice; if questioned, he would just have to play it bold.

Outside, snowflakes were gradually falling, and the wind had picked up. Inside the pavilion, servants had already prepared charcoal stoves and tea, along with windbreaks, which reduced the chill significantly. Yang Shiqi and Yang Rong, as high-ranking officials, were used to hard work but, when free, exercised regularly and didn’t feel cold, so they had taken off their snowproof coats. As a result, the other scholars couldn’t sit there wrapped in thick coats either. Once those coats were removed, the servants gathered a pile of heavy coats, pelts, and capes.

On the way, Zhang Yue had been too startled by Yang Rong’s words to notice what others were wearing. Now, upon paying closer attention, he realized his sky-blue velvet cape was nothing special—after all, such velvet was readily available in the Gusu area. Those sable and mink coats, gray fox pelts, and silver mouse robes were all extremely luxurious. Only Wan Shijie wore ordinary old clothes. With nothing else to take off, he showed no sign of embarrassment and continued to chat as usual.

“The Yuan Festival is here.”

Seeing Yang Shiqi wave, Zhang Yue hurried over. On the desk lay a sheet of white paper, with a boy grinding ink nearby. Curious, he heard Yang Rong say with a smile, “You are Yi Shan’s favorite disciple, so your skills in writing poetry must have come from him. We won’t let you show off. Since you’re new here and the youngest, you’ll be in charge of transcribing these poems. If they’re all good, they might even be printed.”

Transcribing poems was always a tedious task. Hearing this, the others smiled in relief, while Wan Shijie gave Zhang Yue a sympathetic look. After sitting down behind the desk with a smile, Zhang Yue began to worry. He hadn’t intended to make a big splash here, but he was puzzled by Yang Rong’s claim that Du Zhen was an expert in poetry. After all, he had studied under Du Zhen for four years without ever hearing the teacher compose poetry—yet Du Zhen’s knowledge was indeed solid.

Since they were in a sea of bright red plum blossoms, the topic inevitably revolved around praising plums. Yang Shiji and Yang Rong said there were no restrictions on rhymes, and any poem would do. With these two as the judges, Zhang Yue, who had no real foundation in poetry, was in charge of transcribing the works. How could anyone not give it their all? They all racked their brains to stand out from countless famous verses and create something original.

In just a short while, Zhang Yue had transcribed two poems on paper.

“Encountering flowers, I see the plum trees of my old home; Snow covers the cold mountain paths, blocking the way. The bright moon and my sorrowful heart are alike—A single branch, its pure shadow, awaits the cold.”

“Her pure beauty surpasses ordinary branches; I can’t bear to copy those that reach for the clouds. Everything values lofty standards—No wonder the plum blossoms hang low to the ground.”

Compared to the grand and majestic verses of the Tang Dynasty, these two poems were merely average. Moreover, poetry was no longer part of the imperial examinations, so the two Yangs, as judges, naturally wouldn’t be picky and only gave casual comments. Seeing that the others were still deep in thought, Yang Shiji smiled and glanced at Zhang Yue, who was transcribing. His neat and rounded handwriting clearly took time to master, showing even a hint of the style of the Shen brothers. Amazed, he gently pulled at Yang Rong’s sleeve.

“Mianren, take a look.”

Yang Rong glanced over and immediately laughed, asking, “Did Yuanjie practice copying Master Shen’s calligraphy?”

Hearing this, Zhang Yue, who had been concentrating on transcription, stopped writing and replied, “Master Du once said that Master Shen practiced writing by hanging his wrist from the wall, claiming it strengthened arm strength. I did the same at home for two years and indeed copied Master Shen’s ‘Four Admonitions’. Master said that one could see the person behind the handwriting, so besides academics, he also strictly supervised my calligraphy practice.”

“Truly in the style of Du Yishan!” Yang Rong couldn’t help but laugh. He examined the ink-stained paper again and then sighed, “The Emperor loves Master Shen’s handwriting, and the Crown Prince often copies his works. Even my brother Shiji and I once spent a lot of effort on calligraphy.”

“Master! Master!”

As soon as the words faded, a shout came from afar. Before long, the butler Yang Zhong stumbled along the path and rushed up the steps in a few strides.

“The Emperor… the Emperor has arrived incognito with the Crown Prince! They’ve already entered… the second gate!”

At this moment, Zhang Yue was truly stunned—Just as they mentioned Cao Cao, he actually showed up?