Chapter Thirty-Seven: Composing Poetry at the Birthday Banquet

“We are but humble students, and when the time comes, I hope both you, sir, and the madam will be tolerant of our inadequacies,” Kong Zong said with calm composure. The other young scholars nearby, however, brimmed with excitement. To be introduced before Registrar Zhou was, in their eyes, a mark of distinction, a sign of his favor.

At this moment, Pan Wenhao rose from another table, his face full of respect as he assured Registrar Zhou, “Rest easy, sir. To be invited today to honor the old madam’s birthday is a great privilege. We will not shirk our duty!”

“It is said, ‘A scholar dies for the one who knows him...’” Pan Wenhao even sought to display his literary flair, but Registrar Zhou quickly laughed and interrupted, as if to curb this excessive flattery.

“Very good, Nephew Pan! I look forward to witnessing all your talents,” Registrar Zhou said kindly, then moved on to greet other guests. The young scholars hastened to bid him farewell, then sat down again, their faces alight with anticipation as they discussed what kind of verses might win the registrar’s approval. Song Mu and Kong Zong exchanged a glance.

“As I said, there’s no avoiding it today,” Kong Zong remarked with a wry smile.

Song Mu’s expression was tranquil, and he replied quietly, “Let’s do our best, but there’s no need to draw undue attention.”

“Aren’t you worried about harming your reputation?” Kong Zong countered.

“It’s just a poem. True reputation is earned on the examination grounds or the battlefield, not by currying favor,” Song Mu replied softly. Kong Zong nodded slightly at his words, then turned his gaze elsewhere.

“Pan Wenhao seems delighted, perhaps he’s already prepared his poem.”

“All the better,” Song Mu murmured, his eyes straying to the doorway as he recalled Li Mo’er whom he’d just seen. He wondered where she was now within the Emerald Pavilion, and what she was planning.

Registrar Zhou made a circuit of the Emerald Pavilion, greeting every guest. Just as the fervor was at its peak, a shout came from below.

“The birthday matron arrives!”

Everyone who had just sat down immediately stood again, turning toward the entrance. An elderly lady entered, supported by several attendants. Registrar Zhou’s relatives eagerly led her in, with a retinue of maids and matrons following—a grand and lively procession.

Guests offered their congratulations, and the old lady, clearly delighted, spoke a few words of thanks before requesting a performance. Registrar Zhou himself went downstairs and, in a display of filial devotion, carried his mother upstairs to the third floor.

Such a scene of motherly kindness and filial piety moved the guests deeply. Many wiped their eyes with their sleeves, claiming that such a sight was truly moving, stirring their hearts.

Song Mu could not tell if their emotion was genuine, but seeing the old lady’s spirited demeanor and the throng of attendants, it was clear she was well cared for. At least, in the matter of familial duty, even if some gestures were for show, Registrar Zhou had fulfilled some genuine obligations.

With the matron seated, the banquet at the Emerald Pavilion began in earnest. Fine wine sparkled in luminous cups, and servants bustled about, serving dishes and offering auspicious words throughout the hall.

This only added to the grandeur of the occasion.

Soon, after several rounds of wine, Registrar Zhou stood on the third floor, cup in hand, and raised a toast to his guests.

“My friends, I am deeply grateful to all who have come to celebrate my mother’s birthday. Please allow me to offer you another toast!”

The guests responded in kind, and as the wine was drunk, someone proposed, “Sir, since today is an auspicious day, why not compose a poem in honor of your mother’s birthday?”

Others quickly echoed the suggestion. To demonstrate one’s literary grace was an opportunity none would decline.

Registrar Zhou, not one to demur, finished his wine and at once recited:

In silks and silver hair, youth’s traces still remain,
On this birthday, may peace reign for generations.
I urge Heaven above to be generous still,
Let joy in advanced age grow ever deeper in affection.

The guests applauded, and Registrar Zhou proposed that everyone compose poems, to further delight the old lady. Immediately, someone stepped forward with a prepared verse, earning a round of applause.

Once the ice was broken, others grew eager. On every floor, verses were offered, though most were mediocre and lacked true talent. But soon, a poem from a scholar drew exclamations from all.

He had written a verse imbued with genuine literary spirit. Though it was but a modest achievement, it was enough to cause surprise. Registrar Zhou, delighted, praised him profusely and rewarded the scholar with ten taels of silver.

The young students looked on with growing restlessness, each hoping for their chance to shine.

Kong Zong glanced at Song Mu with a wry smile. “Well then, let’s get to it. We did promise Registrar Zhou a birthday poem.”

He summoned a servant for paper and brush, then, after a moment’s thought, began to write.

Song Mu looked up, and the others did the same.

“Pines and cypresses before the gate lean toward the sun,
Blessed is the threshold, with all five blessings complete.”

As Kong Zong finished these lines, a faint aura of talent shimmered on the page, and the young scholars looked on in amazement. Song Mu straightened up, impressed, but as Kong Zong wrote the last word, the spark of inspiration faded.

Kong Zong turned to Song Mu with a rueful shake of his head. “My mind’s gone blank all of a sudden.”

Seeing this, the others sighed, but soon returned to pondering their own verses.

As everyone racked their brains for a worthy poem, Pan Wenhao stood up with confidence and strode forward.

“I, Pan Wenhao, have composed a humble poem to wish the madam happiness as vast as the Eastern Sea, and a long life as enduring as the Southern Mountain.”

His voice was loud enough to carry throughout the Emerald Pavilion, and Pan Shun, seated on the third floor, smiled with pride as officials beside him offered flattering remarks.

With another poem being presented, a servant quickly brought the verses upstairs. Song Mu and Kong Zong exchanged a look, curious to see Pan Wenhao’s work.

Mountains and rivers stretch vast and grand,
The blue moon washes the endless sky.
From Southern Mountain, I fetch the peach of immortality,
That I might borrow for her the span of a hundred years.

The five-line quatrain leapt from the page, and as it was read aloud, even the guests raised their brows in admiration, for a current of literary spirit visibly rose from the paper, floating up to the old lady’s chamber, where it appeared as twinkling lights before her.

“Three measures of talent! And a birthday poem, no less?”

A cry of amazement went up, faces full of astonishment.

The scholars and students of the county school began to savor the verse. Though only twenty characters, its imagery was exquisite.

To seek a peach of immortality from the Southern Mountain, exchanging it for another’s longevity—simple words that, in this context, were wondrously apt.

Even Song Mu, in his heart, could not help but praise it as a fine poem.

Registrar Zhou, seeing such a felicitous poem dedicated to his mother, beamed with joy and saluted Pan Wenhao.

“Well done, Nephew Wenhao! With such talent, you are sure to achieve high honors in the future!”

“You flatter me, Uncle. I was merely moved by the occasion. I wish the madam a life as long as Heaven itself, and I will certainly work diligently, striving to bring honor to the scholars of Shiyang County!”

Pan Wenhao, flushed with excitement at the praise, bowed deeply. Above, Pan Shun burst into hearty laughter, delighted with his son’s achievement.

After these words, Pan Wenhao glanced at Song Mu, a smile playing at his lips, then suddenly spoke aloud.

“Since today is the madam’s grand birthday, I have ventured to present my humble poem. But it seems Song Mu has also prepared a verse. Surely his talent will be even more remarkable…”