Volume One, Chapter 18: Who Truly Is the Immortal Poet?

Behind the counter, the shopkeeper with a cloth wrapped around his head was busily clicking an abacus, his fingers moving swiftly, the sharp clacking sound drowning out everything else.

Wei Niang asked again, but he replied impatiently without even looking up, “He practiced swordsmanship and cut down all the trees in my backyard. He couldn’t pay for the damage, so I’ve already kicked him out!”

Upon hearing this, Zhu Xiaozhi hurriedly chased after them, calling out, “Poetry Immortal, please wait!”

The girl in yellow was the first to turn around. Though her clothes were worn, her face was clean, and her fuzzy hair stood up like fresh sprouts on a young sapling. But Zhu Xiaozhi’s gaze slipped past her and fixed firmly on the brother beside her.

“Poetry Immortal, if you have nowhere to go, why not come to my residence and become a guest?”

The man in blue shifted the heavy bundle on his shoulder, his face puzzled and expression dull.

“I don’t know how to write poetry; I can’t even read. My sister, however, is literate.”

The girl in yellow opened her mouth but said nothing. Zhu Xiaozhi stepped back awkwardly, waving her hands repeatedly.

“Then I must have mistaken you for someone else. Please, you two take care.”

Although the Wang siblings didn’t know where they were headed, the Princess Zhaoyang’s estate was not a refuge for wanderers. They were healthy and able-bodied; they could work to support themselves.

In such chaotic times, there were countless homeless souls; she couldn’t provide shelter for every one of them. She could only hope to end this turmoil quickly and restore peace to the land.

Zhu Xiaozhi had taken only half a step away when a hoarse, rough voice filled with ill intent sounded behind her.

“Isn’t that Wang Shi? When are you going to pay back the silver you owe our moneylender?”

The frail girl stepped in front of her tall brother, her voice as sweet as an oriole’s.

“Soon, soon. We’ve sold a few more articles and can repay the hundred taels by tomorrow.”

That voice sounded familiar. Zhu Xiaozhi turned to look again and finally took in the yellow-clad girl’s face clearly.

“Only tomorrow? Judging by your looks, you’ve been kicked out of the inn, haven’t you? If you leave Chang’an now, where am I supposed to collect my debt?”

The burly man with a full beard grabbed the girl’s slender arm, his dark, beady eyes greedily studying her pale face.

“Wang Shi, your sister’s just a girl. It’s not right for her to suffer outside. Why not let her stay at my place tonight? You can pick her up with the money tomorrow.”

The vulgar words stung Zhu Xiaozhi’s ears, bringing back the memory of the weeping woman in Liu’s backyard. The tea-colored dress with a lotus pattern swayed as she stepped forward, standing protectively beside the girl in yellow.

“This young lady and her brother are my guests. How much do they owe you?”

The big man cast her a sidelong glance and sneered.

“Guests? These two useless wretches? Ha! What street or alley did you come from, wild girl? Your taste is worse than mine—I’d rather have you as a guest.”

Wei Niang quickly stepped forward to answer, “The Princess Zhaoyang’s estate in Chongren Ward.”

Upon hearing this, the man scrutinized her more closely. Unlike the noble ladies of Chang’an who always hid behind veils and hats, Zhu Xiaozhi’s cheeks bore a few red sores from exposure to the cold after years of running through fields. Her unyielding gaze carried the hardy spirit of a country girl.

The decree of her title had already been posted on the city wall for days, weathered by wind and sun, but no one had stopped to read it carefully.

“Which princess is Zhaoyang? In this world, I only recognize Princess Taiping!”

He reached out and grabbed a small piece of flatbread from a nearby stall, glaring defiantly to silence the vendor’s protest.

“Who cares which princess? This person owes me two hundred taels. Are you going to pay for them? No money, none of you leave.”

Wang Shi objected, “At first, I only borrowed twenty taels to treat my sister’s illness. Now, in your mouth, it’s fifty, a hundred, and how did it jump to two hundred in just a few words?”

The man grinned fiercely and clapped his large hands. In an instant, over ten vicious-looking servants surrounded them.

“I said two hundred taels, and I mean two hundred taels, not a single coin less!”

Wei Niang, unable to bear such injustice, anxiously tugged at Zhu Xiaozhi’s sleeve.

“Your Highness, let’s run away…”

As if joking, she had once roamed the rivers and lakes herself and wasn’t afraid of these bullies. Moreover—Zhu Xiaozhi shifted her arm subtly to shield the small pipa she hadn’t seen for months. After parting ways at Tongguan, they had lost contact. She hadn’t expected the girl to be the Poetry Immortal’s sister.

She was just about to roll up her sleeves and prepare for a fight when the crowd suddenly surged and shoved, wrapping them in a whirlpool of bodies.

Zhu Xiaozhi grabbed the yellow hem of the girl’s dress; the girl clutched her brother’s waist, and the three stumbled sideways.

A fragrant breeze accompanied the arrival of a vermilion carriage rolling down the street.

The roof was embroidered with golden thread in intricate floral patterns, while the front door and side windows were covered with hanging curtains embroidered with begonia blossoms. Four white horses, like flowing clouds or fresh snow, were neatly lined up at the front—truly a dazzling sight.

“It’s the carriage of Princess Changle!”

The bearded man was the first to prostrate himself on the ground. The surrounding crowd and Wei Niang followed suit, leaving Zhu Xiaozhi and the siblings standing awkwardly alone.

Wei Niang tugged anxiously at the princess’s hem, but it didn’t budge.

The carriage stopped before the three, and a crisp, clear female voice came from behind the pearl curtains.

“Since you see me, why don’t you bow?”

Zhu Xiaozhi had always admired this aunt for her decisive manner, yet at this moment, she found herself unable to bow properly, offering only a slight nod.

“Greetings, Aunt Changle.”

Wei Niang quietly lifted her eyes and called out, “Your Highness.”

The curtain lifted just a little, revealing no one except for the elaborate scarlet hem flowing inside. A voice, soft and rich, fragrant with sandalwood incense, came from within.

“Since Wei Niang is with you, you must be Third Madam.”

Zhu Xiaozhi nodded, but the occupant said no more. The redwood wheels rolled again, the begonia curtains fluttered in the wind, carrying the scent away.

Yet the bearded man’s demeanor changed markedly, stepping eagerly toward Zhu Xiaozhi.

“Your Highness, actually, these two don’t owe that much—just a hundred taels. Our moneylender’s shop is on the main street; please come visit often.”

The debt collector fled, leaving Zhu Xiaozhi and the siblings staring at each other.

“Your age? Name? What can you do?”

“I’m Wang Shi, twenty-one years old, and I know some swordsmanship.”

“My sister’s name is Wang Qi. She’s eight years younger than me and just turned thirteen.”

Wang Qi lightly tugged her brother’s sleeve, whispering with a hint of pride.

“I know Your Highness.”

The young man steadied her shoulders and gently nudged her toward Zhu Xiaozhi.

“If Your Highness is looking for someone who knows poetry and literature, she can read and write. I don’t know if her writing is any good, but as long as it bears my name, someone will pay for it.”

Zhu Xiaozhi affectionately embraced the shy girl. So these delicate hands not only played the pipa but also wrote well—could it be that the famed poet was actually the sister writing under her brother’s name?

Wang Qi discreetly poked her brother’s back as a reminder.

Thanks to Princess Zhaoyang’s kindness, for if they had encountered ill-intentioned people, this simpleton might have blurted out all their family secrets in just a few words, ruining their chances to earn a living from then on.