Chapter 29: Mastery of Both Pen and Sword

He sat composedly at the table, his demeanor calm and unhurried. Clad in an indigo brocade robe that made him appear as slender and elegant as a stalk of bamboo, he sat beside a tea cup from which wisps of steam curled upward.

"Young Master Zhao? Why have I never heard this name in Bianjing?" Liang Han pondered repeatedly in his mind. Having lived in Bianjing since childhood and priding himself on his refined tastes, he had attended dozens of poetry gatherings, both large and small. He was acquainted with all the talented scholars in the capital, yet this Zhao, who possessed such remarkable talent, was completely unknown to him.

As the crowd whispered in confusion, Zhao Han stood up and spoke clearly, "I am a native of Yangzhou, here for the spring examinations. The poem just now was merely an impromptu composition; I hope you will all forgive any shortcomings."

Liang Han looked him up and down, muttering to himself, "So he is a candidate arriving for the exams; no wonder I have never seen him... An impromptu composition—truly, Yangzhou is a place of hidden talent to produce someone so brilliant."

"The last time I heard such a fine poem, it was also written by a student from Yangzhou. That poem was titled 'Ode to Plum Blossoms,' yet upon closer inspection, it is slightly inferior to yours!" an elderly scholar sighed, thinking to himself that this young man would certainly rank among the best in the upcoming spring examinations.

Zhao Han, without batting an eyelid, replied, "To tell the truth, 'Ode to Plum Blossoms' was also my work."

The elderly scholar’s hand, holding his wine cup, trembled slightly, and in the next second, his robes were splashed with wine. The guests in the hall erupted into a stir, their faces filled with astonishment and sudden realization.

Just then, Huichun walked lightly to Zhao Han's side. After bowing respectfully, she said softly, "Young Master Zhao, my mistress invites you to the private chamber."

"That’s wonderful! I knew your poetic talent would surely win the favor of Master Wei!" Gu Tingye beamed, his face filled with joy, and he immediately began to walk toward the private chamber.

"Young Master Gu, please stop. My mistress only invited Young Master Zhao; why are you trying to join in?" Huichun blocked Gu Tingye without a hint of hesitation.

Gu Tingye took a deep breath. "I came here with Brother Zhao, so naturally, I should go to the private chamber with him!"

"Young Master Gu, please do not be unreasonable. If you make my mistress unhappy and she stops performing for a period of time, I fear many will hold a grudge against you."

Master Wei’s singing of *xiaoling* was exquisite; she was considered among the best, not just in Bianjing, but in the entire Great Zhou Dynasty. Many noble families in the city would spare no expense to invite her to perform and enliven their banquets. Guangyuntai stood as a leader among the many entertainment houses in Bianjing precisely because of her.

If she were to stop performing, Gu Tingye would likely not be able to walk out of Guangyuntai today.

"You..." Gu Tingye pointed at her, then returned to his seat, looking thoroughly disgruntled. Under Huichun’s guidance, Zhao Han stepped into the private chamber amidst the envious gazes of the crowd.

"Young Master Zhao," Master Wei said, her lips parting slightly as she used her slender, jade-like fingers to pour him a cup of wine.

As they sat opposite each other, Zhao Han appeared somewhat more restrained than she did.

"Young Master, you have yet to title your poem. Would you be willing to leave your calligraphy here?" With that, she leaned forward and offered a sheet of xuan paper that smelled faintly of ink. On it were two rows of delicate, regular-script characters—the very poem he had just composed.

Zhao Han narrowed his eyes slightly, picked up the brush, and wrote: *Mulanhua: Imitating the Ancient Song of Resolution.*

Observing the vigorous and powerful calligraphy, Master Wei’s eyes flickered, and she smiled. "There is one more thing I wish to ask. May I perform this song here at Guangyuntai?"

Zhao Han had no reason to refuse. Once this song was performed by Master Wei, it would likely spread across the country within half a month. As the author, he would naturally benefit and might even make a name for himself in the literary world.

"Of course. I shall certainly come to watch when you do," Zhao Han replied with a smile, his manners impeccable.

Master Wei’s gaze toward him shifted, softening with a hint of genuine admiration. "Young Master Zhao is as elegant as a jade tree, with such outstanding talent—why do you associate with the second son of the Gu family? He is a notorious playboy in Bianjing; staying with him will only tarnish your reputation."

Knowing how highly the literati valued their reputations, she offered the advice out of genuine concern, fearing he had been led astray.

"You worry too much, Master Wei. Young Master Gu is actually pure-hearted and deeply loyal. As for his reputation, that is a long story—in short, he is very different from the rumors."

Master Wei nodded slightly, though she could not see what made Gu Tingye so different. Seeing Zhao Han’s conviction, she replied, "It is my folly to be over-concerned." She paused. "Please call me Qingshao from now on; I do not care for the title 'Master'."

'Master' was an honorific for the top courtesan of a house. Those who earned the title were talented and beautiful, skilled in all the arts, yet they remained in a lowly social caste, unable to escape the stigma of their profession. No matter how high the scholars held them, they were ultimately seen as mere playthings in the world of flowers and moonlight.

"Very well, Miss Qingshao," Zhao Han said softly. Master Wei’s fingertips trembled, and a genuine smile bloomed on her lips.

***

Meanwhile, in the Sheng residence in Yangzhou, Sheng Hong had received the letter from Sheng Wei. After returning from the magistrate's office, he shared the news with Wang Ruofu and Old Madam Sheng.

"Good heavens! Who would have thought we would encounter river pirates on the way to Bianjing!"

"My dear, we must take plenty of guards when we set out," Wang Ruofu said, her brows furrowed with worry over their impending move to the capital.

Sheng Hong nodded vigorously; he was a man who valued his own life. "Naturally. I have already sent men to the martial arts school. Our own house servants are merely for show; they would be useless."

"Brother Wei also mentioned in the letter that Zhao Han is an exceptional archer, hitting every target from a hundred paces away while fighting off the pirates. He is a young man of both literary and martial talent. I have known him for three years and never realized he was skilled in martial arts." As he spoke, Sheng Hong’s brows relaxed, and his eyes crinkled with a smile.

Old Madam Sheng said softly, "That child never looked like a weak scholar. As the saying goes, while the Six Arts are for a gentleman, truly mastering them all is rare indeed."

"Mother is right," Sheng Hong agreed.

Mentioning the Six Arts reminded Old Madam Sheng of the Eight Elegances of women: zither, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, wine, flowers, and tea. She narrowed her eyes, weighed her thoughts for a moment, and turned her gaze to Wang Ruofu.

"The capital is not like Yangzhou. At the feet of the Emperor, a fifth-rank official is no rarer than a turtle in the moat. Our four daughters must learn proper etiquette, or they will be laughed at when we reach the capital. Especially Hua’er—once Young Master Zhao enters the official ranks, she will inevitably deal with the wives of other high-ranking officials. Learning more etiquette will surely prove useful."

Wang Ruofu nodded repeatedly. "Mother is right. I have been pondering this matter myself."