Chapter 23: Composing a Poem on the Spot

The Goulan Pavilion was rarely this bustling. The madam stood alone on the central stage, her palms slick with sweat. Among those present were members of noble clans and the notorious dandies of Chang'an. Figures like Cheng Chumo, Li Huairen, and Su Chen were essentially the terrors of the city—people no ordinary soul dared to offend.

However, the show had to go on. With the young master of the house also present, the madam felt caught between a rock and a hard place. She decided to stop overthinking it and simply follow the plan set by Miss Yang Wan'er.

"As you all know, Miss Yang Wan'er, who has come to us from Gusu City, is a lady of high breeding, well-versed in the arts of the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting," the madam said slowly. "She has set a task: whoever provides the best answer shall have the honor of meeting her tonight."

The crowd below grew even more impatient. The more they heard about such an extraordinary woman, the more intrigued they became. Many began to clamor, eager to know what the challenge was. Having heard rumors that the task would involve poetry, many had already summoned the scholars in their retinues, who were now busily preparing.

"My mistress says that coming here is a matter of 'fate,' and being gathered together is a matter of 'sentiment,'" the madam continued, clearly straining to relay the message. "Thus, she hopes you gentlemen will compose a poem using 'Old Sentiment' as the theme. Whoever can surpass the rest shall naturally win the chance to meet her."

Though she was a woman of the Goulan, the madam still possessed a modicum of refinement. Her words left the room in a hush as the guests began to ponder. It was clear that Miss Yang Wan'er was testing them; she wanted them to weave their past stories into verse. By choosing "Old Sentiment," she was testing not just their poetic skill, but their sincerity.

"I don't understand at all. Why do 'fate' and 'sentiment' turn into 'Old Sentiment'? What is the logic in that?" Cheng Chumo asked, looking completely bewildered. He was no man of letters and could not grasp what the madam was driving at.

Li Huairen also began to contemplate. He understood the topic, but writing a poem was another matter. "Have you lot memorized the theme? Hurry and think! I want a few poems written in the time it takes to brew a pot of tea," he ordered his subordinates.

The scholars looked strained. For men of letters in this era, composing occasional verse was their bread and butter, but doing it under such pressure was another story. Most were merely churning out mediocre work, padding it with flowery language and decent rhymes to pass the time.

Su Chen, however, had already begun to think. For someone like him, this was not difficult; he could produce a masterpiece at will.

"Huairen, find me someone with good handwriting. I will recite, and he will write," Su Chen said. Since arriving in the Tang Dynasty, his own calligraphy had been his only weakness, and he couldn't improve it in such a short time. He had to rely on a ghostwriter.

Li Huairen happened to have a man who was skilled in the style of the "Two Wangs," capturing a hint of the elegance of Wang Xizhi and Wang Xianzhi. He ordered him to transcribe for Su Chen.

"Su Chen, you've already thought of it in such a short time? None of our people have even begun," Li Huairen and Cheng Chumo said, looking at him in astonishment. Privately, they doubted him, assuming he had just scribbled something random.

Su Chen curled his lips into a faint smile. "I will recite, and you will write."

He stood up, and the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were already prepared.

"The ornate zither, for no reason, has fifty strings; each string and each bridge recalls a year of youth. Master Zhuang dreamt at dawn of being a butterfly; the Emperor Wang entrusted his spring heart to the cuckoo. Across the vast sea, the moon shines on pearls that weep tears; in the sunlit Blue Field, the jade breathes forth smoke. Such sentiment might have become a memory, yet even at the time, it was already a bewilderment."

Su Chen recited quickly—so quickly that the scribe could barely keep up. Cheng Chumo and Li Huairen exchanged glances. "What did he say? I didn't hear clearly," Cheng Chumo muttered, still utterly lost.

The scribe, however, had frozen. Having finished the final stroke, he stared at the paper, stunned. "This... this is a rare masterpiece. 'Such sentiment might have become a memory, yet even at the time, it was already a bewilderment'... The flavor, the feeling..."

Though Su Chen had recited it with the grace of a cow chewing on a peony, the scribe could feel the profound weight of the words.

"Is it any good?" Cheng Chumo and Li Huairen asked, turning to those around them. They were embarrassed to admit their own ignorance, but the scholars they had brought knew exactly where they stood.

"My Lord, with this poem by Master Su, there is no point in us writing anything," one of the scholars admitted, humbled.

Li Huairen didn't truly believe Su Chen's poem could be that good; he assumed his subordinates were simply being modest to avoid overshadowing a man of Su Chen's status. "Very well, then we shall use Su Chen's poem as our entry," Li Huairen decided, hoping to give Su Chen some face.

Su Chen knew, however, that few could compare to this verse. It was a poem that would be passed down through the ages, and its theme of "Old Sentiment" was a perfect match for Miss Yang Wan'er's prompt.

In the other rooms, guests were also scrambling to finish their work. The Goulan girls arrived to collect the manuscripts, each labeled with the room number and the gentleman's name.

"I may have to excuse myself tonight," Su Chen remarked with a hint of confidence. "I suspect I shall be meeting the lady from Gusu."

Cheng Chumo and Li Huairen remained skeptical; they couldn't see the brilliance in Su Chen's work. Only the scholars knew that unless the madam was playing favorites, no other poem in the house could possibly compare.

The madam had the collected manuscripts sent upstairs. "Our mistress will review these herself," she announced. "In the meantime, please enjoy the dance and wait. The final decision rests with the lady herself."