Against the Current - Chapter 58

Chapter 58 - Poetry Society (Part 4)

Leaving the Zhichun Lodge, Lin Jinlou headed straight for the front study. Pushing open the door, he saw Shuran directing two pageboys as they sorted the regional specialty products he had brought back from the outer provinces into several portions, preparing to have people deliver them to each household shortly.

Seeing Lin Jinlou enter, Shuran hurried forward to greet him. "Master, the items have all been sorted. Please come take a look. If there's anything unsatisfactory, I'll reorganize them."

Lin Jinlou nodded and inspected the items portion by portion, noting that some consisted of writing brushes, ink, inkstones, and paper, while others included sachets and hair oil. The portions for the elders mostly comprised nourishing foods, medicinal herbs, silks, and similar goods. As he sifted through the items, he instructed, "Also, don't forget Madam Song of the Second House; her allowance should match that of the Second Madam. As for her son and daughter, prepare gifts for them on par with the young masters and misses of our own household."

Shuran hastily replied, "Naturally, those have all been prepared."

Lin Jinlou continued, "Among the chests carried back, there was a set of calligraphy copybooks by Shen Zhou. Where did you put them?"

Shuran answered, "Seeing that it was wrapped in red silk cloth and figuring it must be a precious item, I placed it in the drawer at the bottom of the multi-treasure cabinet." With that, she retrieved the key and took out the copybook.

Lin Jinlou untied the red silk wrapping and flipped through the copybook. This Shen Zhou, styled the Master of Bamboo Dwelling, was a successor of the Wu School of painting and excelled most at ink-and-wash landscapes, while also writing a graceful, uninhibited hand of fine calligraphy. During this recent trip, a subordinate had offered him this copy of Shen Zhou's Skyline Dark Clouds Scroll as a token of respect. He had originally intended to keep it as a gift for his old man, but having just seen Xianglan's handwriting, he changed his mind instead. Slipping the copybook into his sleeve, he turned to walk out, then suddenly recalling something, he paused, turned his head back, and instructed, "Set aside a portion of the hair oil and face powder and send it to Xianglan in the East Side Courtyard."

Shuran was greatly startled, but she instantly lowered her gaze and replied, "Yes, I understand." She attentively escorted Lin Jinlou out. Returning to the room, she took a bottle of hair oil and a box of powder from the chest. After a brief moment of thought, she added a sachet, and following a slight pause of deliberation, she also added a string of glass bead bracelets. Finally, she wrapped all the items securely in a piece of pink silk cloth.

Shuran was eighteen years of age, of medium height, with a rounded face and delicate features. Yet such looks were considered entirely ordinary among the dazzling, fiercely competitive maids of the Lin household. What set her apart was her gentle, amiable disposition and the constant smile that graced her face, making her feel especially approachable. Shuran had originally been a second-rank maid serving Madam Qin. Seeing that she handled affairs with steady composure, prudent cleverness, and a bright temperament, Madam Qin had reassigned her to Lin Jinlou. Having served by Lin Jinlou's side for five years, Shuran had witnessed her fair share of storms and was deeply trusted by him. She moved freely between the inner and outer quarters without avoidance, and the entire household respectfully addressed her as "Elder Sister Shuran," granting her a considerable degree of face. Earlier, her parents had quietly tested the waters, wishing to have Shuran marry Lin Jinlou as a concubine. Shuran immediately went before Lin Jinlou to ask for a respectable marriage alliance as a way of making her intentions clear, whereupon Lin Jinlou betrothed her to Xu Fu, a highly influential senior steward in his service, with plans to release her from servitude within the next couple of years.

This decisive move by Shuran had earned her the profound respect of the entire Yang family—even Madam Qin had offered her a few words of praise. Yet Shuran knew the reality as clearly as a mirror: over the years, she had watched Lin Jinlou execute decisive, merciless judgments time and again. While others viewed him as an indolent, pampered young gentleman, she knew all too well that Lin Jinlou was a living Yanluo. Many of his methods still made her shudder just to recall them, not to mention the fact that this master was constantly surrounded by romantic entanglements and had a wife resembling a fierce female yaksha sitting at the head of his bed. Being a clever woman, she had long since dismissed any improper fancies, devoting herself wholeheartedly to serving Lin Jinlou as her master. Witnessing Lin Jinlou take such an interest in a humble maid like Xianglan, Shuran was certainly astonished, but having been tempered into a seasoned veteran over the years, she knew that anything not her place to ask should be left unquestioned. Secretly, she figured that a new newcomer would likely soon be added to the Master's quarters.

To demonstrate her utmost sincerity and curry favor with the "new concubine," Shuran felt she could not simply dispatch a minor maid to deliver the goods casually, as Lin Jinlou had done previously when sending ointment to Xianglan. This time, she would deliver the items personally and take the opportunity to exchange a few warm, ingratiating words.

As for Shuran's plans, we shall leave them aside for the moment. Let us instead turn to Lin Jinlou as he strolled toward the Gathering Green Lodge with the copybook tucked inside his sleeve. Circling past the artificial rockery, he saw a gathering of matrons assembled within the courtyard, along with several young misses and young wives clustered around a large table set up in the courtyard, chatting animatedly amongst themselves.

It turned out that everyone had finished composing their poems and were now gathered together in high spirits to review and critique them.

The group went through the poems one by one. Whenever they encountered a fine piece, they would praise it in unison and discuss its clever nuances; when they met with a poor one, a light chuckle would brush it aside; and for those mediocre pieces that fell somewhere in the middle, they would simply pick out an interesting line or two to comment upon before moving on. Qinglan had failed to compose a complete poem by the time the incense stick was nearly burned down, and had thus been forced to scribble down Xianglan's verse haphazardly just to get by. Consequently, when the critique reached Lingering Fragrance, it did not draw many praises.

Lin Dongqi mused inwardly, Qinglan is my eldest brother's favored concubine; it's already a rarity that she can read and write at all, let alone produce a poem. Since she is the one hosting this poetry society, we mustn't let her lose too much face. Smiling, she remarked, "Although this piece is brief, it carries a sense of heavy, melancholy sorrow. In just a few sparse lines, the mood and imagery are exceptionally lovely."

Qinglan had already felt somewhat displeased that the poem had failed to draw widespread acclaim, but hearing Lin Dongqi speak thus, her face instantly lit up with radiance. Smiling, she said, "The Second Young Miss is flattering me too much; it's nowhere near that good..."

Lin Dongqi offered a thin smile, and just as she was about to move on to review the next poem with the others, she heard Meimei let out a soft, tittering laugh. "Whose white jade orchid... isn't that just a play on Concubine Lan's name 'Lan'? Since the sister is now the person resting closest to the Master's heart, why use such a desolate phrase like 'left behind in the spring breeze'..."

Lin Dongqi's brow instantly furrowed as she silently blamed Meimei for lacking the sense of occasion to speak so thoughtlessly in the presence of so many aristocratic matrons and wealthy wives. Zhao Yuechan had already darkened her face and snapped, "Shut your mouth!" Though she detested how Meimei's phrase "the person resting closest to the Master's heart" scraped against her raw wounds, she despised even more the fact that this little vixen Qinglan dared to contend with her at every turn and in every matter.

Fearing that Meimei's remark would cause her to lose face, Zhao Yuechan smilingly steered the conversation elsewhere, turning to Lin Dongqi to say, "Good younger sister, read out the next one for me and let's see whose it is."

Lin Dongqi took a look and saw that it belonged to Song Tanchai. The prompt Song Tanchai had drawn was Wutong Tree, and Lin Dongqi proceeded to read aloud:

"Where to seek the autumn thoughts, I ask?

Rolling up the bead curtain, I half gaze upon the jade-green shadows.

Borrowing three parts of chill from the western wind,

I steal yet another wisp of clarity from the jade toad.

With heavy mists and descending frost, the withered lotus stands,

While over the vast river and low clouds, a solitary wild goose cries.

Throughout antiquity, none have ever truly known one's bosom tune—

The lonely wutong tree stands by the quiet little lattice window."

With every line Lin Dongqi read, the company chimed in with praises, expressing astonishment that Song Tanchai possessed such profound sensibilities. Even Zheng Jingxian's haughty expression softened somewhat; she looked at Song Tanchai with a different light in her eyes and remarked, "I never imagined Sister Tan possessed such talent. This piece is fully deserving of taking first place."

Song Tanchai flushed slightly and demurred, "How could it possibly be that good? We haven't even looked at Elder Sister Xian's poem yet... and Sister Qi's poem was also beautifully done." As she spoke, her gaze swept sideways toward Lin Dongling—unfortunately, Lin Jinting was not in the manor today, leaving Lin Dongling without a hired ghostwriter. Forced to scribble something blindly on her own, her poem had naturally been judged a failure. Seeing the greenish pallor on Lin Dongling's face, Song Tanchai quietly trailed off and shut her mouth.

Zheng Jingxian hurriedly covered up her own poetry manuscript with a smile. "I originally thought I'd written quite well, but compared to my younger sisters, I realize my work falls far short. This poem is better left unread; we'd better just burn it."

The others naturally refused to let her off, chiming in, "How could that be allowed? Quick, bring it out and read it to us."

As Zheng Jingxian dodged left and right, Lin Dongxiu caught her off guard, snatched the paper away, and read aloud: