Poetry Gathering on the Pleasure Boat

By the side of Jinming Lake, some of the great noble families had already boarded their ships to head toward the center of the water, securing positions in the prime locations. Many of the impoverished, however, could only watch from the shore. Some offered their literary talents to the wealthy in hopes of being invited aboard, while others even sold poems they had painstakingly composed just to earn a few coins. Yet, such individuals were few; many more held onto their integrity as scholars, choosing to scrape together their own funds rather than associate with the powerful. Amidst this picturesque gala, the frustration of the principled, penniless scholars was palpable. Those who dwelled on this reality felt a certain melancholy cast over the grand event.

A young man intended to take a young woman aboard to attend the gathering. Though he had the means, he haggled endlessly with the boatman. Perhaps it was the habit of his impoverished past that made him stingy even now, though in truth, he simply felt that paying dozens of taels just to watch a performance by pretentious young literati was a waste.

Seeing him bickering incessantly with the boatman, the young woman couldn't help but chuckle. The boatman glanced at her—though she was not exactly a stunning beauty, he still advised the youth: "Look here, it’s not as if you can’t afford the boat, so why must you quibble over a few taels? Even the young lady behind you is laughing at you. If you remain this miserly, she’ll surely look down on you."

The young man glanced at the woman, yet shook his head. "She is different from others; she won't care about such things. Let's make it a flat rate: fifteen taels. Yes or no? Give me a straight answer."

The boatman stomped his feet in frustration, breathless. "Young master, this is already the lowest price on the lake today. If you don't believe me, go ask the others—it’s twenty-three taels! Why must you haggle over those eight taels? I have a family to feed, and I’m just trying to earn a little extra today. Don't make things difficult for me. If you’re not satisfied, go look elsewhere."

The young man chuckled, unmoved. "Old man, look at the number eight—it’s a sign of good fortune. If you forgo those eight taels today, perhaps you’ll be repaid with eighty tomorrow. I’m doing this for your own sake."

The boatman was so incensed he nearly cursed aloud. "To hell with your eighty taels! Go on, ask around elsewhere. I don't believe a word of your nonsense."

The young man remained indifferent, refusing to leave. The boatman suppressed the urge to resort to force; if he injured the boy, he would end up paying damages, and he wasn't about to suffer that loss. Still, watching him was infuriating. After a while, the young woman stepped forward, intending to pay, but the young man stopped her. The boatman could no longer hold his tongue. "What is wrong with you, boy? The lady is willing to pay herself, yet you still won't let it go? Are you trying to make my life miserable, or do you just not want to take her on the cruise at all?"

He looked at the woman and added, "Miss, you’ve clearly misjudged him. I advise you to break it off with him early. A man this miserly and eccentric is simply not worth it."

The young man was about to retort when he sensed something amiss above. He reached up and caught a green date just as it fell into his hand. Looking up, he saw several familiar faces leaning over the railing of a large pleasure boat. Among them, Ren Pingsheng was waving at him.

Having spent the morning haggling, Zhang Ling stopped wasting breath on the boatman. He scooped up Chen Ke'er and leaped onto the towering pleasure boat. The feat drew envious looks from many of his peers; the capital was full of nobles, but their pampered sons lacked such agility and could not show off for their beloveds on such an auspicious day. Some even resolved to begin martial arts training on the spot. Only the scions of military families truly understood the difficulty—even with lifelong training, they could not replicate such a leap. They couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the youth who had displayed such skill.

The boatman watched the pair from the deck, baffled. To think they knew such wealthy friends yet had insisted on tormenting him over a few coins—what a strange fellow.

Zhang Ling set Chen Ke'er down and scanned the familiar faces: Song Linjie, Ren Pingsheng, Wu Zhi, Mo Li, Ye Yumi, and the long-absent eldest son of the Ye family, Ye Yuhuan. It went without saying that this ship belonged to the Ye family.

"Why are you all here?" Zhang Ling asked.

Song Linjie laughed. "Not just us; the entire academy is here, though everyone has disguised themselves and scattered across different ships. You two left the earliest, and when we arrived, we saw you haggling, so we didn't want to disturb you."

Zhang Ling considered throwing a punch but realized he couldn't win, so he let it go. He turned his attention to Ye Yuhuan, whom he hadn't seen in a long time. Ye Yumi was devoted to martial arts, so the Ye family—now the wealthiest in the Chen Kingdom—was managed entirely by this eldest son, making him a valuable acquaintance.

Ye Yumi bowed first. "It has been months, Brother Zhang. Your martial arts have progressed significantly; it is truly a cause for celebration."

Zhang Ling returned the pleasantry. "Brother Ye, now that you manage the Ye family, you are the undisputed wealthiest man in the Chen Kingdom. Such achievement at your age is equally worthy of praise."

As the two engaged in their exchange of flattery, Song Linjie grew impatient and walked to the side. Even then, he didn't stop practicing his blade, sending arcs of sword energy crashing into the water, kicking up waves and drawing the attention of guests on nearby ships. They beckoned for him to join them, but the arrogant youth ignored them all.

Before the poetry recital had even begun, Song Linjie’s display had already captured the hearts of many young women. Most noble ladies dreamed of meeting such a heroic youth and wandering the world with him. It was, of course, nothing more than a fantasy; they knew of the romance of the martial world but understood nothing of its hardship and danger. Yet, perhaps because it was a dream, they were all the more intoxicated by it.

Zhang Ling watched and chuckled. "It truly is the case that when a man becomes charming, he attracts more bees and butterflies than any woman."

He then noticed Ren Pingsheng and recalled what he had said at the Mingyue Pavilion. "Are you here to find a lady, too?"

Ren Pingsheng shot him a glare. "Could you not make me sound like some debauched playboy? This is a meeting of soulmates! Besides, I’m not just here for poetry and romance; I am here to make my stance known to someone."

"You speak in riddles," Zhang Ling said. "Just tell me which young lady you have your eye on, and who you intend to send a message to."

Ren Pingsheng turned away, hiding a smile. "That is my own affair. You will know in due time."

As the pleasure boat drifted a distance, a magnificent painted barge, dwarfing all others, came to a halt in the center of the lake. When the event officially opened, the aspiring young scholars would steer their boats closer and lay down planks to board the barge. There, they would find brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones. Each scholar would write a poem, which would then be recited aloud by a designated reader. As the verses spread, the scholar would invite the woman who had caught his eye. If she reciprocated his feelings, it would be a celebrated match; if she did not, he would become the laughingstock of the day.

When all the boats were within three zhang of one another, they came to a stop. Only then did Zhang Ling realize that the inner three circles had long been reserved by the great noble families—the elite of the elite.

Fortunately, the Ye family was wealthy enough to secure a spot in the front, providing a stage for the talented Ren Pingsheng. And for Ye Yuhuan, the purpose of this gesture was to cultivate a relationship with this future pillar of the state.