31 Jing-Shui Pavilion (Tonight is a night to remember, laughter abounds; may happiness and good fortune come rolling in)

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On the fifth day of the month, shortly before noon, Wei Guangde rode in a carriage toward the river with Wu Dong and his elder brother, Wei Wencai.

Zepeng County lay beside the Yangtze. From atop the county walls, one could see the distant surface of the river and the merchant vessels gliding back and forth across it.

This time, however, they were not heading toward the county seat. Apart from the county town enclosed within its lofty walls, the most prosperous part of Zepeng County was the cluster of buildings around the riverside wharf.

In truth, Zepeng’s wharf could hardly be called prosperous. It was nowhere near as bustling as Jiujiang or Hukou. Yet in this era, any town situated near a great river was still far more prosperous than places elsewhere.

The venue chosen by Zeng Yuanshu, who was hosting the banquet, was the Jingshui Tower by the river. It was considered one of the better-known grand restaurants in Zepeng County.

As for it being well known, that was naturally Wei Guangde’s own judgment. When his elder brother, Wei Wencai, had been telling him about the county town, he had casually mentioned this very restaurant.

Standing beside the Yangtze, one could climb the tower and gaze into the distance, watching the river’s waters seem to descend from the heavens. Once Wei Guangde entered the restaurant, he understood the feeling all too well.

He had looked at the river from the bank before, but perhaps the lower vantage point had made all the difference. It had never seemed half so breathtaking as it did now.

“No wonder ancient poets found their inspiration upon riverfront towers, producing one celebrated masterpiece after another.”

That was what Wei Guangde was thinking. What he did not know was that riverfront restaurants were everywhere. Of those that had truly become famous, there were only a handful. And of the countless poems and essays left behind by scholars and literary men, how many had actually survived to be passed down?

In the end, it all came down to luck!

As the host of the banquet, Zeng Yuanshu had naturally arrived early. The tables nearest the river had long since been reserved. Wu Dong and the others were actually rather late; at least most of the guests at their table had already arrived.

“My apologies, my apologies.”

The moment Wu Dong reached the upper floor, he saw Zeng Yuanshu gazing toward the stairway. He hurriedly clasped his hands and apologized, then quickly led the two brothers, Wei Wencai and Wei Guangde, over.

Seeing that the guests had arrived, the men seated around the table rose one after another to return their greetings.

As Wu Dong introduced them, Wei Guangde learned the identities of the several scholars seated at the table. They were more or less the same men Wu Dong had mentioned before they came. At the head of the table sat Zeng Yuanshu and Zeng Shengwu, while the others beside them included Ma Xiang.

Zeng Shengwu was the most distinguished man present—not in age, but in academic attainment. He had already passed the county examination and become a licentiate. Though he was not from Jiangxi, both Huguang and Jiangxi were major centers of the imperial examinations in the Ming Dynasty. The scholarly atmosphere in the two regions was much the same, and competition was fierce. Passing there therefore carried considerable weight.

That was why he alone wore a scholar’s robe. His was a round-collared, wide-sleeved gown, clearly different from the garments worn by the other scholars.

“This is my maternal cousin, Wei Wencai, and this is Wei Guangde.”

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Wu Dong pointed to the two brothers as he introduced them. “They came to stay with my family this time, so I brought them along as well. They can meet the distinguished scholars of Zepeng County and broaden their horizons while they are at it.”

After a few polite remarks, Wu Dong also explained a little about the brothers’ backgrounds.

Wei Wencai had studied as well. As long as no one asked him to write anything, he could muddle through well enough. Pretending to be a scholar was not beyond him. Though he had read only the Four Books, his gift for memory allowed him to quote the sayings of the sages and lines of poetry with considerable fluency. He could pass for a learned man without too much trouble.

Wei Guangde was younger. At eleven, having read only the Four Books, he was already considered outstanding in his town. Within Zepeng County, however, he could only be regarded as ordinary.

The children of the Zeng family, the hosts of this gathering, had begun their education particularly early. They started their primers at five or six, or perhaps six or seven, and generally finished most of the Four Books by the age of ten. That was the difference between the sons of scholarly families and children from ordinary households.

Once everyone had arrived, the wine and dishes were soon brought to the table, and conversation began. Naturally, the focus fell upon Zeng Shengwu, who had already attained licentiate status.

Of all those present, Ma Xiang was the oldest, followed by Zeng Shengwu. Zeng Yuanshu and Wu Dong came after them, while Wei Wencai and Wei Guangde were the youngest. As a result, most of the men scarcely paid the two brothers any attention.

In their eyes, even Wu Dong could not truly compare with them. They were proper men of letters, while Wu Dong was merely someone destined to inherit a military post. What did he amount to?

Still, Wu Dong’s luck was undeniably extraordinary. Among all his fellow students and scholars, he alone had managed to pass both the county and prefectural examinations in one attempt, earning the title of licentiate candidate.

One had to understand that among everyone seated at the table, only Zeng Yuanshu and Ma Xiang held that distinction. The rest had achieved nothing at all.

Of course, neither Zeng Yuanshu nor Ma Xiang shared such thoughts. They had passed the examinations themselves and knew how arduous they were.

Although Wu Dong could never ultimately stand on equal footing with them, they were still willing to befriend him.

His learning was what it was—neither more nor less.

Those who looked down on Wu Dong were, in truth, merely envious and jealous that he had passed both examinations. But they could only harbor those feelings in silence.

For a scholar, such thoughts could never be spoken aloud. To do so would damage one’s reputation.

In any case, Wu Dong was a genuine licentiate candidate, and he was their fellow student.

As everyone drank, ate, talked, and laughed, the banquet grew increasingly lively. Wei Guangde finally had a chance to taste the wine of this era. It was not strong liquor, but yellow rice wine—the local sealed-jar wine.

The others moved from discussions of the Four Books to debates over the Five Classics. From time to time, someone would even raise his voice and recite a poem. Wei Wencai seemed especially animated, dredging up the things he had once studied and long since cast into oblivion.

Wei Guangde drank his wine, ate his food, and listened to their lengthy discourse. Yet his thoughts remained fixed on the same matter: later, when the opportunity arose, he would find a way to speak with the Zeng Yuanshu his cousin had mentioned and ask him about model essays written in the eight-legged style.

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He was still thinking about this when the sound of footsteps came pounding up the stairs.

Several men and women appeared on the upper floor.

Unaffected by the heated discussion at the table, Wei Guangde naturally heard the commotion. He turned and looked over.

At the front was a woman dressed entirely in crimson gauze, her face heavily made up. She appeared to be well past her youth, though in her younger days she must have been a beautiful and alluring woman. Even now, there was something faintly seductive in the way she moved.

That was rather alarming. She was probably over forty. People in later generations might speak admiringly of mature women, but this one was mature to the point of ripeness.

Wei Guangde thought this and promptly shifted his gaze to the woman behind her.

There stood a girl of seventeen or eighteen, dressed in a plum-pink coat lined with white fox fur and a pleated skirt patterned with hibiscus blossoms, auspicious clouds, and a hundred flowers. A pale blue plum-blossom jacket rested over her shoulders. Her cloudlike hair was swept into a slanted bun and adorned with a jeweled hairpin set with purple jade, lending her an air of quiet elegance. Tassels hung from her dark, lustrous hair. Though she wore only the lightest touch of makeup, her red lips and delicate cheeks were striking, and her beauty surpassed that of any flower.

A beauty!

Wei Guangde gave a silent sigh. He sighed because, even after becoming accustomed to every kind of beauty on the television and internet of later generations, this girl still made his eyes brighten. But he also sighed because he was only eleven years old.

All right, he had not even grown all his hair yet.

Behind the two women came quite a number of men and women. They seemed to be attendants, or perhaps…

The people immediately behind the two women were indeed serving maids. Those farther back, however, were carrying one musical instrument after another.

A musical troupe from ancient times?

Wei Guangde was wondering about this when someone soon provided the answer.

“Well now, Madam Liu, you finally decided to bring everyone along!”

Zeng Yuanshu had also noticed the newcomers. He burst out laughing and called toward the woman in the crimson gauze robe.