Chapter 13: Gu Tingye Seeks Help

As soon as these words were spoken, all eyes turned to Zhao Han. Over the years, among the students of Yangzhou, Zhao Han had gained a modest reputation. Now, as the favored son-in-law of the Vice Magistrate, he naturally commanded some respect.

"Young Master Zhao composes poetry; we are honored to listen," someone said.

"Bai Ye, consider yourself lucky today to have Young Master Zhao come to your rescue!"

Gu Tingye glanced at Zhao Han with deep eyes, cupped his hands politely, and then stepped aside.

Although Sheng Hong had long known of Zhao Han’s poetic talent, he leaned forward with a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

It was well known in Yangzhou that Lord Zheng was an avid lover of poetry. Originally mingling with several officials, feigning joviality, he now carried his wine cup over to stand beside Sheng Hong.

"Lord Ming has come to join the fun," Sheng Hong greeted him with a smile, acknowledging the higher rank.

Lord Zheng stroked his beard, smiling, but his gaze remained fixed on Zhao Han.

Zhao Han rolled up his wide sleeves, paused briefly with his brush, then wrote the opening lines:

"A jade-like figure belongs only on the Jade Terrace,
Who would plant her everywhere in the southern lands?
Snow blankets the mountain where the recluse lies,
Moonlight brightens the woods where the beauty arrives."

The crowd silently recited the lines, then drew a sharp breath.

Lord Zheng’s eyes gleamed with admiration as he clicked his tongue and praised, "Exquisite, simply exquisite!"

Though the first couplet was somewhat plain, the next was a masterpiece.

The first line used snow-covered mountains to evoke the recluse’s lofty solitude, metaphorically praising the plum blossom’s steadfastness in the cold.

The second line cleverly alluded to the classic image of a beauty beneath the trees, comparing the moonlit plum blossoms to a graceful lady arriving, capturing both the plum’s pure essence and its elegant bearing.

Sheng Hong was equally amazed, unable to help but praise his outstanding son-in-law.

Ignoring the surrounding admiration, Zhao Han continued writing:

"Cold leans on sparse shadows of rustling bamboo,
Spring conceals the fading fragrance on desolate moss.
Since the departure of that gentleman, no fine verses remain,
How many times has the east wind sorrowfully bloomed?"

Then Zhao Han added a note:

"In the winter of the first year of Jiayou, at the Xiaoxiang Villa in Yangzhou, observing the garden’s red plum blossoms blooming bravely in the cold, like vermilion dots on snow—vivid but not gaudy, their shadows slanting, their subtle fragrance drifting—I was struck with sudden inspiration."

As he set down his brush, Lord Zheng pushed past a few scholars blocking his path and came directly before Zhao Han.

"Wonderful poem, wonderful indeed!"

"You are remarkably talented for your young age," Lord Zheng praised. Zhao Han laughed dryly twice, a faint trace of unease flickering in his eyes. Of course, the poem was exquisite—it was originally by Gao Qi, a poet of the Ming dynasty from a previous life, whose work had deeply moved him.

Zhao Han bowed modestly, "You flatter me, Lord Ming."

"I guarantee this poem will spread throughout Yangzhou by tomorrow, and my Xiaoxiang Villa will bask in its glory!"

Lord Zheng’s joy was unmistakable as he patted Sheng Hong’s shoulder. "Your son-in-law is extraordinary. Given time, he will surely achieve great things!"

"Lord Ming speaks rightly; I share the same hope," Sheng Hong replied with a humble smile, though his heart was elated.

From their exchange, Gu Tingye learned that Zhao Han was the Vice Magistrate’s son-in-law, and a gleam flashed in his eyes. Among Yangzhou’s top officials, besides the Prefect, the Military Supervisor and Vice Magistrate held great sway. With the support of either, Bai Tingyu dared not act rashly.

Many scholars approached Zhao Han, introducing themselves and seeking friendship; some even proposed lavish banquets.

Only as the feast neared its end and the crowd thinned did Zhao Han find a moment’s peace.

Rubbing his throbbing temples, he was about to rise when a clear voice sounded beside him.

"I am Bai Ye. Thank you, Brother Zhao, for helping me out earlier."

Zhao Han turned and smiled calmly. "No need for thanks. Helping you was rewarding for me as well."

"But you disguised yourself as a scholar and came to this banquet—shouldn’t you have prepared more thoroughly?"

Upon hearing this, Gu Tingye was startled, a flash of surprise crossing his face. He couldn’t fathom how Zhao Han had seen through him.

"Just by looking at your hands, it’s obvious you’re not a man of letters."

Gu Tingye instinctively looked at his palms, rough and calloused, knuckles thickened, with a few fresh scars on the backs of his hands.

"I…" Gu Tingye found himself speechless, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Raised since childhood learning martial arts under his father, enduring heat and cold without pause, his hands were indeed unlike those of a frail scholar who spent days with brush and ink.

Using the alias Bai Ye, he had traveled with a merchant ship for over half a month before arriving in Yangzhou.

Unexpectedly, before finding a place to stay, he was hunted down by agents of the Bai family.

His loyal attendant died protecting him from attackers, forcing him to leap into the river and swap clothes with the attendant so the Bai family would believe him dead.

With the Bai family patriarch’s funeral set for the next day, Gu Tingye had wisely spent ten taels of silver to buy an invitation from a destitute scholar.

Seeing Zhao Han had no intention of exposing him, Gu Tingye weighed his options and bowed deeply.

"I beg Brother Zhao to introduce me to the Prefect and Vice Magistrate. I am Gu Tingye, second son of the Marquis of Ningyuan from Bianjing, come to Yangzhou on urgent business."

Zhao Han eyed him sideways, and Gu Tingye continued:

"My maternal grandfather was the head of the Bai family on Wu Yi Lane in Yangzhou, but recently he fell gravely ill and passed away, leaving behind vast estates. My grandfather had no sons, only my mother."

"Before he died, he left a will appointing me to inherit the family holdings."

"Yet the Bai family harbors ill intentions, seeking to seize the fortune my grandfather painstakingly built."

"They’ve even spread rumors within the city that my grandfather adopted nephews to inherit the estate. Brother Zhao, I implore your aid; I shall remember this kindness forever."

Gu Tingye’s tone was earnest; he now regarded Zhao Han as a lifeline.

"I’ve heard of the Bai family’s troubles before. It seems fate has brought us together. Since you’ve come to me, I will help you," Zhao Han said quietly, harboring some private motives.

Gu Tingye was skilled and righteous, hating injustice. Befriending him would be greatly advantageous.

Moreover, Gu Tingye was the future inheritor of the Marquisate of Ningyuan.

"Thank you, Brother Zhao. Once I reclaim the Bai family estate, I shall host a banquet in your honor!"

Grateful, Gu Tingye clasped his fists and bowed deeply.

After the other scholars dispersed from the villa, Zhao Han personally led him to Lord Zheng and Sheng Hong.

Upon hearing the story, the two exchanged glances, their minds weighing the matter carefully.

Sheng Hong was naturally willing to support Gu Tingye; after all, with plans soon to travel to the capital, it would be a great favor to have the Marquisate of Ningyuan indebted to him.

Seeing Lord Zheng’s slight hesitation, Gu Tingye bowed again.

"Once I regain the estate, I will issue orders forbidding all shops from any form of extortion or monopoly. Furthermore, I am willing to donate ten thousand taels of silver to repair the waterways."

"Second Master Gu is truly magnanimous. Tomorrow, I shall accompany you to the Bai family’s residence!" Lord Zheng stroked his beard and smiled, his gaze toward Gu Tingye now tinged with new respect.