Chapter 76: Of All the Talent Under Heaven, Yulang Holds Eight Parts Out of Ten (Part One)

When Zhang Yu arrived at the gate of the Cai residence, dusk was already settling, yet the streets on either side were thronged with people. It was just as the rumors said: carriages and horses crowded the roads, the masses surging as if the city had just been stoked with fresh firewood.

The coachman managed to carve out a path and led Zhang Yu into the Cai estate, where household servants greeted him and showed the way. Within the residence, master and servant, men and women alike, all displayed a demeanor of refinement and learning.

The cultural depth of the Cai family was evident at a glance.

In the main hall of the Cai residence.

"Zhao Ji, are your preparations complete?"

"Father, I have memorized all these melodies. I will not make a single mistake."

"My Zhao Ji, you have always put my mind at ease," Cai Yong replied, stroking his white beard as he watched his gentle and obedient daughter tuning her qin. Though he smiled, a sting of pain flashed through his heart.

"Today's guests are carefully chosen by your father. It can be said that all the talents of Chang'an are gathered here. Zhao Ji, perhaps you—"

"Father," Cai Yan raised her head to look at him, her tone as soft as silk, yet unmistakably firm, "Wei Lang passed away not long ago. How can I neglect the duties of a widow and think of such things now? It would be improper."

"Zhao Ji!" Cai Yong spoke sternly. "You may forgive how the Wei family treated you, but I cannot!"

"The sages taught: repay resentment with uprightness, repay kindness with virtue. It was my fault for misjudging at first, and now I regret it deeply. Remember, you are not only Wei Zhongdao's wife, not only the daughter-in-law of the Wei family, but you are also my child. No one may wrong you! The hundred days of mourning have passed, you have fulfilled your obligations—why continue to torment yourself?"

"The Wei family is the Wei family, Wei Lang is Wei Lang. Father, the hour is late; we must not keep the guests waiting." Cai Yan cradled her qin and stood quietly beside Cai Yong.

"Ah..." Cai Yong sighed. He knew his daughter's temperament well; outwardly fragile, inwardly strong. How else could she have endured the scorn of the Wei household and completed her mourning rites?

He laughed at himself for once wishing she would stay with the Wei family, fearing rumors, yet such thoughts were utterly absurd and unfair to his daughter.

Leading Cai Yan toward the reception hall, a gentle, spring-like warmth returned to Cai Yong's expression, and an indescribable dignity emanated from within.

Where there is poetry, there is grace—this was the bearing of a great scholar.

Cai Yong entered the hall, took the main seat, and gazed at the gathered scholars and talents. He smiled and nodded, then raised his hand and said, "It is my honor that you have all come to the Cai residence today. Please, be seated."

"Thank you, Master Cai."

The scholars bowed in unison. Before such a figure, none dared show the slightest arrogance; Cai Yong was someone they deeply revered, and would gladly bow to as their teacher.

"As is custom," Cai Yong continued once the guests were seated, "I never decline the offering of a greeting gift. Who will begin?"

Most present wore knowing smiles, pondering their options, while a few looked anxious.

"Wang, my worthy nephew, how about you start us off?" Cai Yong looked to him, smiling.

"This is Wang Tang, son of Wang Sheng, the Deputy Minister of the Imperial Treasury. Master Cai remembers him!"

"Master Cai is renowned for his vast knowledge and extraordinary memory. How could we judge him by ordinary standards?"

Murmurs passed among the guests.

The young Wang quickly rose, unable to hide his nervousness. "Master Cai... This is my first visit, and I did not know I was to prepare a greeting gift. I beg your pardon..."

His performance drew varied reactions. Some secretly rejoiced at his discomfort, others worried for themselves.

"He is lacking, not only in learning but in wit."

"The attendants of Cai's household told us to prepare something. By disclaiming responsibility, he not only fails to save face, but risks blaming others—a questionable character, unworthy of respect. He will not make a name for himself today."

Cai Yong's expression did not change. He smiled and said, "Sit down. Wei Chang, perhaps you would?"

Everyone turned to see a plainly dressed, unremarkable man at the entrance rise, somewhat stiffly.

"Who is he? I've never heard of him."

"From his attire, he must be a poor scholar, wandering in search of learning."

"A poor scholar? Does his family own any books? Can he even read?"

The sons of noble families did not hide their disdain, but Wei Chang paid them no mind.

"I am Xu Gan of Beihai, greetings to Master Cai and esteemed guests."

"The name Wei Chang is well known in Beihai. I have long wished to see what greeting gift he would offer." Cai Yong assumed a listening posture.

"Is there a theme?"

Cai Yong glanced meaningfully to a corner. "Emotion would suit well."

"Then, I will compose a 'Poem of Love' for Master Cai and all to judge."

Xu Gan paused in thought.

"A love poem? What could he possibly write?"

"He is but a poor scholar; writing a poem is no small feat. Let him not offend Master Cai."

The murmurs continued, but Xu Gan was deep in contemplation. Suddenly, a melody sounded—a qin played somewhere nearby, immediately captivating the audience.

All eyes turned. In a side chamber of the hall, behind silk curtains, a woman had seated herself, her features indistinct, yet she evoked a strange admiration. Her fingers danced across the strings, stirring the hearts of even the most self-assured of scholars.

"That must be Master Cai's daughter, Cai Yan, Lady Zhao Ji!"

"They say she is unmatched in talent and beauty. Now, hearing only her music, I know the rumors are true!"

"How foolish of the Wei family to squander such virtue. I, Liang Cheng, am the first to scorn them!"

With this single melody from behind the curtain, Cai Yan had conquered every scholar present. The haunting music lingered, not disturbing Xu Gan's thoughts, but instead inspiring his creativity.

High halls rise majestic, broad mansions cold and desolate.
A gentle breeze stirs the inner chambers, the setting sun casts light upon the steps.
Lingering beneath the cloud-draped roof, I sing and sigh, leaning against ornate pillars.
You have gone and will not return; for whom do I now adorn myself?
The incense burner lies unused, dust gathers atop the mirror case.
Silks have lost their color, gold and jade are dull and lifeless.
Delicacies forgotten, fine wine left untouched.
When I gaze around, emptiness prevails; only the chirping of swallows and sparrows is heard.
Worries and longing follow one another, my heart as if awakened from a restless sleep.

With the poem finished, the vast hall remained enveloped in the lingering music. After a moment, a flood of praise erupted.

"I take back everything I said before. Xu Wei Chang's talent exceeds mine!"

"This poem captures the longing of a woman in love with exquisite detail—remarkable!"

"Shame on us, sons of sages, who judged by appearance alone. I am deeply ashamed."

When the hubbub finally subsided, Cai Yong, smiling in satisfaction, spoke: "This poem begins with longing, gradually deepening, from surface to heart. Ending with 'worries and longing follow one another, my heart as if awakened from a restless sleep'—how marvelous. It moves from objects to feelings, revealing the heart through surroundings and things. Wei Chang has mastered the art of expressing the human heart. Excellent!"

"Bravo!"

A chorus of admiration filled the room, and Xu Gan blushed, humbly replying, "I merely offer a brick to attract jade, forgive my poor attempt."

With Xu Gan's poem presented, many scholars who had considered participating now hesitated. With such a gem before them, they risked appearing challengers, and if their work fell short, it would only invite ridicule.

"Zhong Xuan, have you a worthy piece?"

All eyes turned, surprised to see a short, slight youth.

"Why does Master Cai always choose—"

"This is Wang Can, grandson of Lord Wang, the Minister of Works. They say he is a prodigy."

"A prodigy must prove himself in poetry and prose."

The young man rose and bowed to the assembly. "Wang Can of Shanyang, I would borrow Brother Wei Chang's fine poem to amuse the guests."

High halls rise majestic, broad mansions cold and desolate.
A gentle breeze stirs the inner chambers, the setting sun casts light upon the steps.
...
Worries and longing follow one another, my heart as if awakened from a restless sleep.