Chapter 685: Offering Flowers to the Buddha
"A Life and Death Document?"
Gu Baoshu was a little dazed, her two bold brows knitting as she asked, "What Life and Death Document?"
"You’ve already forgotten?" The Ninth Princess didn’t believe it. "Just a few days ago you signed a Life and Death Document when you played polo with those Yelv people, didn’t you? This princess has seen all kinds of things, but that I truly haven’t seen. If you want this princess to put in a good word for you, just offer that up."
The Ninth Princess lifted her chin, her eyes slanting to the side, her tone utterly nonchalant, as if she had just mentioned it in passing.
Gu Baoshu suddenly understood, touched her chin and burst out laughing: "So that’s what you meant. Isn’t that being kept by my third brother? Later Yelv Zhi went to ask my third brother for it, so it must have been taken away.
I can’t very well go and ask him to give it back, can I? Where would that leave the face of our Dingbei Marquis Mansion?
Princess, you’d better change to something else. As long as it’s something I can produce, I will never say no."
"It hasn’t been taken," the Ninth Princess blurted out.
Meeting Gu Baoshu’s puzzled gaze, she hurriedly softened her tone: "This princess heard that Yelv Zhi didn’t get it, it’s still with your third brother."
She paused, then added, "You Da, upon learning that this princess wanted to have a look, asked Young Master You to go and inquire with Yelv Zhi."
Gu Baoshu tilted her head, her eyes rolling round and round, until the Ninth Princess began to feel a little uneasy under her stare. Only then did she say, "I’ll have to go back and ask before we can talk. Had I known the princess wanted that thing, I would have asked third brother for it already."
When she said this, neither of them really believed it.
But both pretended to be utterly convinced.
The Ninth Princess extended her right hand and said solemnly, "Gu Qi has always valued one promise above a thousand in gold. This princess shall await your good news."
Gu Baoshu also extended her right hand and slapped it against hers. "Most certainly, most certainly, so fast that many horses couldn’t catch up."
Only then did the Ninth Princess give her some face, tucking the incense bag into her sleeve.
On the other side, Qin Heng also took the opportunity to tug Brother Ximen off to one side, muttering in a low voice.
When the Ninth Princess returned, she saw that Mr. Songshan had already begun his lecture on statecraft. The scholars who had been drawn up could barely conceal their amusement, occasionally whispering to one another below; most of it was about how Mr. Songshan’s learning was indeed profound.
The Ninth Princess snorted coldly through her nose, utterly disdainful: "What a flock of ignorant bookworms. Who knows if they’ll ever manage to pass the Advanced Scholar exam and become some sesame-seed official in this lifetime."
Brother Ximen had long since returned to her side. Smiling, he flattered, "The princess’s discernment is indeed extraordinary. As the saying goes, ’Heroes are not asked about their origins’—and heroes certainly aren’t made by reading books.
This commoner’s sworn big brother is a resounding hero, with a belly full of talent, well-traveled and erudite, his memory astonishing. Even Jiang Ziya might well feel ashamed before him. Yet he fails the provincial examinations time and again."
"Is that so?" The Ninth Princess turned her face toward him, brows and eyes brimming, and said softly, "Whether your big brother is a hero, this princess does not know; but you, Mr. Ximen, in this princess’s eyes, are a hero galloping across the field. No one can compare to you."
"Truly?" Brother Ximen tried his best to keep a straight face, but still could not suppress the upward curl of his lips.
This made the Ninth Princess’s heart stir all the more.
She had never had such a person at her side before.
This man might merely be a merchant who had come to the Capital City for the lantern festival, but he was handsome and debonair. Every frown and smile tugged at her gaze, and that full body of tattoos was something that could not be found a second time even if one searched the entire Capital City.
None of the noble sons could compare to him.
Nor had any man of the Imperial Family ever been seen in such guise.
The Ninth Princess pressed her lips and smiled lightly. "Of course it’s true. This princess is of imperial blood, born to heaven’s own line. I have anything I want—why would I coax you with lies?"
Brother Ximen laughed and said, "The princess’s words are gold and jade, as weighty as nine tripods. When this commoner returns home in the future, I will certainly let my kin and friends know that the Ninth Princess once favored this commoner, and let them share in my joy."
The Ninth Princess scolded him, "Was it not agreed that Mr. Ximen would come as a guest to this princess’s residence? And now you mention going back to your hometown, spoiling the mood with such talk. Could it be that Mr. Ximen is unwilling to stay for a short while?"
"No, no, not at all. I could ask for nothing better," Brother Ximen hastily waved his hands.
Standing on the outer side, Prince Qi suddenly let out a few cold laughs.
Princess Fuyun was puzzled. "Did Mr. Songshan say something mistaken somewhere, Brother? Why are you laughing?"
Prince Qi said softly, "It has nothing to do with Mr. Songshan. Merely the filthy words of some frivolous butterflies. Why dirty your ears? Even if you were willing to hear it, I would not be willing to speak it and soil my own mouth."
Princess Fuyun was struck speechless.
On the upper floor, Mr. Songshan was leaning against the railing, speaking about the differences in literary style between Wu and Chu: "This old man has traveled for many years and deeply feels that the saying ’each region nurtures its own kind’ is no lie. Even poetry and prose can serve as evidence of different local customs. For example, when people of Jiangxi compose poetry, those of Wu find it overly concerned with logic and principle. The poetry of the people of the Three Wus, when seen by people of Jiangxi, seems excessively amorous and unrestrained."
Below, a chorus of agreement rose up.
"Interesting," Wang Zichuan said to the person beside him. "This Mr. Songshan is said to be a great Confucian of Wu and Chu—how is it I’ve hardly heard of him before?"
The man at his side laughed. "Where would Big Brother have heard of him? How many readers do we have in our stockade? Anyone who can recognize a few characters is already called a talented man. As for the lads, they don’t pay attention to this at all."
Wang Zichuan sighed, wringing his hands.
"Had I known, I should have invited him to stay at our stockade for a few days. Wouldn’t it be delightful to chat with him about everything under the sun?"
The man beside him said, "If Big Brother is willing, once we return we can invite some talented men to... to come stay at home for a while, to keep Big Brother company and talk to relieve his boredom."
Wang Zichuan shook his head. "The ancients said, ’Reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles.’ His words have substance—how could he be compared to those other Scholars and scholars? Those people shut themselves in and build carts behind closed doors; they’re not even as good as I am. Talking with them is as tasteless as chewing wax. Better to invite an opera troupe so everyone can have some noise and fun together."
"Right, right, right," the man at his side said. "Big Brother is absolutely right. Those scholars open their mouths and it’s all zhi-hu-zhe-ye; who has the patience to listen?"
Just then someone asked, "We’ve heard that Sir has long resided in Wu and Chu. How would you assess the literary styles of the two regions?"
The crowd called out, "That gentleman has asked well. We all want to hear how Sir will put it."
Mr. Songshan straightened his robe. When all around had fallen silent, he stretched his neck and said slowly, "The style of the people of Chu has bones; when it goes astray, it turns boorish. The writings of the people of Wu have charm; when they go astray, they become frivolous."
The crowd nodded repeatedly.
Take the ministers in court, for example: those from the Two Lakes and the Jianghuai regions value backbone in their writing and pursue momentum; but if that backbone is pushed too far, it gives an impression of vulgarity and coarseness.
The Jiangnan regions of Su and Zhe, on the other hand, prize resonance and charm; their prose winds and turns, delicate and lively, yet it easily gives others a sense of soft and boneless frivolity.
Mr. Songshan smiled and said, "This is not something this old man came up with. It is a remark of a friend of mine surnamed Yuan. This old man found it most apt, and so I merely borrow flowers to offer to Buddha here."
The scholars below were filled with admiration and began to discuss it.
"It seems this Mr. Yuan is also a great Confucian."
"Indeed. From just these few lines, you can tell his judgments are exceedingly precise. Even if we understood it in our hearts, we could never have put it into words."
"Great Confucians all roam mountains and rivers together, chatting about everything under heaven. When I think about it, I’m truly envious. When will I ever have such friends?"