Shu strictly prohibited private wine brewing. Within the Shu capital, aside from eighteen specially licensed main shops, the Salt and Iron Commission also specifically established wine workshops under its jurisdiction to brew wine for sale to wine shops.
Jinhua Tower belonged to the Salt and Iron Commission’s wine workshop state operations and also sold wine.
At this moment, with one command from the Marquis of Qingjiang, the officials in charge of Jinhua Tower’s operations led a dozen servants and maids to lay down carpets and set up banquet tables. Braziers with charcoal burning red-hot were placed in the four corners for everyone to ward off the cold and keep warm. A luxurious night banquet took shape in an instant.
Han Qian and Guo Rong, as Chu envoys, sat facing the Marquis of Qingjiang and Duke Qiangguo respectively at their tables. Following them, the Marquis of Changxiang, the Marquis of Wei, Jing Qiongwen, Wei Qun, and others took their seats in order.
Princess Qingyang was in male disguise, and everyone tacitly didn’t expose this, but she could only serve as an attendant, sitting behind the Marquis of Changxiang to accompany the banquet.
Drinking wine and enjoying the snow—if one truly just sat there dryly drinking wine, it would be quite boring.
At night the snow fell even more heavily, but when lanterns were hung out, aside from the snowflakes near the railings that could be seen, slightly farther away was pitch-black darkness. Staring at it continuously would appear rather foolish.
The eighth day of the twelfth month was also the Laba Dharma Treasure Festival. On such an occasion, one either summoned singing girls and musicians to come upstairs to add to the festivities, or one took pleasure in drinking wine and composing poetry.
After one round of drinks, a middle-aged man dressed as a scholar stood up beside the Marquis of Qingjiang and proposed linking verses to add to the entertainment.
So-called linking verses meant designating a tune pattern, with those present each filling in one line to link together into a complete poem. This was the most elegant activity at Shu capital banquet venues. If one truly got stuck and couldn’t think of any good lines, drinking a full cup of wine also counted as passing.
“I’ve heard that the poetry style in Jinling is extremely flourishing, that Prefect Han of Xu is also a master, and Lord Han comes from a learned family. Today you are our honored guest—please, Lord Han, designate the tune pattern and compose the first line,” the middle-aged scholar said to Han Qian with cupped hands.
Asking Han Qian to designate the tune pattern and fill in the first line—the other party had no intention of making things difficult. After all, Han Qian had the highest degree of freedom and wasn’t subject to any restrictions. Those linking verses afterward would all need to find rhyme and tonal patterns according to the tune pattern he designated. The tone and imagery of the entire poem would also be limited by the first line he composed.
Today was a banquet to enjoy the snow. Han Qian still remembered some verses about snow, such as Cen Can’s “Suddenly like a spring wind coming overnight, thousands and tens of thousands of trees with pear blossoms blooming,” Liu Zongyuan’s “Solitary boat, straw cape and bamboo hat fisherman, alone fishing the cold river snow,” Du Fu’s “Window frames the western mountains’ thousand autumns of snow, door harbors eastern Wu’s ten thousand li of ships,” and Liu Changqing’s “At the firewood gate hearing dogs bark, a person returning home through wind and snow at night”—all were poems famous through the ages, and the vast majority were works from the previous dynasty’s peak period of poetry.
Speaking of poetry about snow that hadn’t yet appeared in this world, there were fewer that people in the dream realm remembered. Aside from one “Spring Snow in the Garden,” he only remembered one line from Nalan Xingde’s Pusa Man: “The north wind scatters the snow of the third watch.”
Han Qian thought it was still early. Shu literati were most adept at writing about scenery and expressing emotions. If he truly played along with them, he wouldn’t last past two rounds before showing his inadequacy.
Moreover, in the first round the Marquis of Qingjiang had him designate the tune pattern and compose the first line, which seemed easiest, but in the second round when someone else designated the tune pattern and composed the opening line, what would he do?
This was a trap from the start!
Han Qian turned his head to look at Feng Yi, who was sitting beside him as an attendant: “Why don’t you designate the tune pattern and compose the opening line for me?”
In his early years, Feng Yi had put considerable effort into poetry in order to trick young ladies and young wives into bed. Even more so these past two years, with the Feng family suffering great changes and life’s vicissitudes, Feng Yi sometimes had no choice but to invest his interest in poetry to resolve the depression in his heart.
This kind of occasion was Feng Yi’s forte.
“If everything is done by attendants, this poetry banquet would be quite boring, fortunately failing the Heir Apparent’s kind intentions and disappointing tonight’s snow,” the middle-aged scholar said in a refined manner. “Lord Han once served as Literary Attendant beside the Third Prince. You surely wouldn’t take such a simple matter seriously. Is there still a need to hide your inadequacy at this time?”
“In Jinling, I’m known for being unlearned and lacking skills. This lord seems not yet clear about that,” Han Qian said with a hearty laugh. Admitting to being unlearned and lacking skills gave him no psychological pressure whatsoever. “Why don’t I first penalize myself with a cup.”
“If Lord Han takes shortcuts on such a simple matter, I fear afterward no one will be willing to use their brains—wouldn’t the Heir Apparent’s wine banquet tonight become too bland and tasteless?” The middle-aged scholar still wasn’t willing to let Han Qian off. “Moreover, with Master Jing rarely present, once this poem is completed, we must earnestly request Master Jing to play the qin to add to the festivities.”
At this point, the middle-aged scholar bowed to Jing Qiongwen again: “Guo Zong requests—Master Jing, you won’t find this difficult?”
“Lord Guo is too kind. Jing Qiongwen only has this small ability. Later, naturally I must make a fool of myself,” Jing Qiongwen calmly smiled and agreed.
Wang Jian had proclaimed himself king but not emperor, so he could only enfeoff his son Wang Hongyi as heir apparent, not crown prince. However, the specifications of the Marquis of Qingjiang’s household officials were no less.
Besides six thousand elite personal guards, the Marquis of Qingjiang’s household also established three bureaus and four offices with nearly a hundred officials.
Guo Zong was Junior Administrator, holding the fourth rank. Aside from the three tutors and four guests who were honorary positions, Junior Administrator ranked second among the officials of the three bureaus and four offices established in the Marquis of Qingjiang’s household. In Shu’s court, he held the scholar title and ranked among the great ministers.
Han Qian thought to himself—this bastard Marquis of Qingjiang forced his way over, and I’m supposed to be grateful to him?
“With Master Jing playing the qin, we must request the Princess to sing the verses,” Guo Zong at this moment exposed Princess Qingyang’s identity, smilingly inviting her.
Those who could remain to drink wine and enjoy the snow were without exception high-ranking officials and nobles, so exposing Princess Qingyang’s identity couldn’t be considered abrupt or offensive.
If Princess Qingyang wanted to throw a tantrum, she might first be scolded by the Marquis of Qingjiang.
“If Lord Han insists on taking the penalty drink, Qingyang would want to sing but couldn’t,” Princess Qingyang said, moving slightly forward toward her table.
Seeing this little wench now also pointing her spearhead this way, with not the slightest sense of shared enmity, Han Qian wanted to splash wine in her face.
At this moment, the Marquis of Qingjiang glanced at a young eunuch in blue robes beside him. The young eunuch understood, took out paper, brush, and prepared ink, and respectfully walked to Han Qian’s side. Everyone patiently looked over, with an attitude that if Han Qian didn’t take action, they would part unhappily.
Han Qian suddenly stood up. The young eunuch in blue robes was startled, thinking Han Qian was about to fling his sleeves and leave.
The Marquis of Qingjiang, the Marquis of Wei, and Duke Qiangguo sat there quietly. They weren’t afraid Han Qian would dare throw any tantrum.
Han Qian had served as reader beside a Chu prince and held the position of Literary Attendant. Such elegant affairs could hardly be considered even slightly difficult. If things ended unhappily now, it could only be considered the Chu envoy being arrogant and rude, not taking Shu’s heir apparent seriously. For the marriage negotiations to continue, they could very well request that Chu send over a more learned and reasonable envoy.
“Shu’s literary style is extremely flourishing—Han had heard of this early on in Jinling. Today I can be considered to have witnessed it. But Han believes this is not what Shu should rely upon,” Han Qian swept his eyes over those present and said with a smile. “The so-called ‘guest follows host’s convenience’—if Han were to spoil the Heir Apparent’s and all you lords’ refined interest tonight, that too would be a sin. I traveled upriver with the Marquis of Changxiang, observing the natural defenses of the Yangtze River with considerable appreciation, thinking this might be what Shu relies upon! So today I shall take the Yangtze River as my theme and compose a dozen or so characters as a gift to all you lords…”
Seeing the young eunuch in blue robes about to hand over the brush and ink, Han Qian smiled dismissively and said: “I’ll speak, you write.”
The young eunuch didn’t dare force Han Qian too much and immediately sat down beside the table, lifting the brush and dipping it in ink while waiting.
“Set to the tune ‘Nian Nu Jiao’—The great river flows east, waves washing away the romantic figures of a thousand ages…” Han Qian directly copied out the opening line of Su Shi’s grandest “Nian Nu Jiao: Remembering the Red Cliffs,” thinking that though Shu’s literary style flourished, it flourished in delicate small verses. He rather wanted to see which figure present had the ability and breadth of mind to link Su Shi’s poem?
Han Qian sat down, poured himself a cup of wine and drank it, saying: “Han’s opening line is truly crude. I penalize myself with one cup of wine. However, Han has already made a fool of himself first. Next, which lord should make a fool of himself?”
Once Han Qian’s opening line came out, everyone present was somewhat dumbfounded.
Shu’s literary style, starting from Recording Secretary Wei Zhuang, had moved toward extreme prosperity. Shu people also took pride in this, but the poetry style was mainly delicate small tunes, excelling at singing of objects, scenery, and emotions. Over several decades, few poems of grand and magnificent spirit had appeared. In such a rushed setting, who could suddenly link such a magnificently spirited opening line?
The Marquis of Changxiang Wang Yong prided himself as the foremost contemporary poet of Shu. After pondering for quite a while, he could only secretly shake his head. The few lines he could think of had imagery not too different, and forcing them to connect would truly be “making a fool of himself” as Han Qian had said.
Of course, the shock in the Marquis of Changxiang Wang Yong’s heart was considerable.
During his mission to Chu, he and Qingyang had stayed in Tanzhou for nearly two months. Even if he couldn’t say he and Han Qian were together day and night, they could meet every few days. Han Qian had never displayed talent or genius in poetry. And because Qingyang was close to the Third Prince Yang Yuanpu, she could occasionally see official documents written by Han Qian. His calligraphy skills were quite weak, and his essays were also quite forced—absolutely lacking a poet’s atmosphere.
To be honest, at this moment the Marquis of Changxiang Wang Yong was more suspicious whether the opening line of Nian Nu Jiao that Han Qian had recited, with such magnificent spirit, was plagiarized from some poem that hadn’t yet been transmitted to the world.
Princess Qingyang’s pair of wonderful eyes stared at Han Qian’s face full of suspicion. She couldn’t help but ask the Marquis of Changxiang in a low voice: “Did Han Qian copy this poem from his father?”
Although Han Daoxun also had no transmitted poetry works, the Marquis of Changxiang had been fortunate enough to read the “Miasmic Waters Memorial” and several of Han Daoxun’s memorials while in Tanzhou. He thought Qingyang’s speculation truly had some possibility.
Of course, initially it was the Marquis of Qingjiang’s subordinate Guo Zong who had pointed his spearhead directly at Han Qian and thrown out this difficult problem. If anyone was to link, it should be the Marquis of Qingjiang and his people linking the next line first. The Marquis of Changxiang Wang Yong couldn’t be bothered to help them out of their predicament.
After waiting quite a while with no one standing up, Han Qian stared at Junior Administrator Guo Zong and asked with a smile: “May I ask Lord Guo, who should link the next line? Such a simple matter—surely all the lords present won’t take shortcuts and request penalty drinks, right? If it really doesn’t work, why not relax the restrictions and ask that the attendants beside you lords also participate and exercise their brains together? Otherwise, even requesting penalty drinks, I fear we’d drink up all the Heir Apparent’s wine!”
Everyone looked embarrassed. These words were what Guo Zong had just said to pressure Han Qian, and now they had to endure them forcefully.
Otherwise, it would be Shu losing propriety. If the matter reached the Lord’s attention, wouldn’t they be the ones getting scolded? They saw even the Marquis of Changxiang’s face showed difficulty. They thought that if they truly asked the attendants beside them whether they could link the next line, most likely they too would make fools of themselves.
Duke Qiangguo Zhao Weisheng, seeing the scene was truly rather ugly, stood up to take his leave: “I just remembered there’s still a case I haven’t properly handled. I’ll take my leave first. Please forgive me, everyone.”
With Duke Qiangguo breaking the ice, the Marquis of Qingjiang Wang Hongyi subsequently left with his people.