Chapter Forty-One: The Poetry Gathering of the Seventh Night (Part Two)

Although the Qixi Festival is not considered a major annual holiday, it is undeniably a festival with an air of romance. In earlier times, there existed the custom of “worshipping the Weaver Girl,” where young women and brides would arrange, ahead of time, to gather with their close friends—sometimes a handful, sometimes more than a dozen—to perform a ritual together.

Under the moonlight, they would place a table, arranging tea, wine, fruit, five kinds of dried longan, red dates, hazelnuts, peanuts, and melon seeds as offerings, along with a few fresh flowers bundled with red paper inserted into a vase. Before the flowers, a small incense burner would sit.

Those women participating in the worship would fast for a day, bathe, dress carefully, and arrive punctually at the host’s home. After burning incense and paying respects, they would gather around the table, nibbling on peanuts and melon seeds, gazing up at the Weaver Girl star, silently contemplating their own wishes. The maidens would pray for beauty or for an ideal husband; the brides, for an early child. Each would confide their hopes to the stars. Only when midnight approached would the gathering disperse.

Nowadays, while the custom persists, it has gradually transformed into an event organized by renowned personalities, inviting talented scholars and beauties, distinguished literati, and officials to gather, often accompanied by performances from famed courtesans to enliven the atmosphere. The poetry and verse composed during these festivities are shared and discussed among all. Each year, the Qixi poetry gathering produces several exquisite, timely works that are widely celebrated, and many a talented man wins the favor of a beauty or a famous courtesan. The venues vary, held at homes, pleasure boats, or scenic spots. Other festival gatherings follow much the same pattern.

Tonight, such a gathering was held at the Prince of Qin’s estate.

Night had fallen, and the Prince’s residence was ablaze with light.

In the grand hall, aside from Yang Yaozong, all thirty-some guests invited by the eldest prince, Jing Min, were present and seated. Among them were a few acquaintances of Yang Yaozong: the second prince, Jing Yu, Yin Ru Xin, Mu Qing Han, and Qin Xue Yao. At that moment, Yin Ru Xin was seated beside Prince Jing Min in the hall’s principal seat, while the others occupied places along either side of the central aisle, two to each low table, which was laden with wine, pastries, fruit, and preserves.

Yang Yaozong, being the most esteemed guest, was seated by Jing Min’s left, first among the guests; next to him sat Mu Qing Han.

The banquet had commenced, but since Yang Yaozong’s seat was conspicuous, everyone noticed that the prince’s most important guest had yet to arrive.

A slender, pale-faced scholar of unremarkable appearance asked, “Who is this distinguished guest the prince awaits, so bold as to keep us all waiting when the feast has already begun?” This was last year’s imperial examination champion, Xu Qiuhai.

The renowned poet Dai Yuan, in his fifties, his complexion rosy, brows thin, eyes narrow, and lips slender, stroked his beard with a sage-like air and added, “I too am curious. Who is so revered by the prince? If he truly is a famed scholar, then our waiting is not in vain.” Dai Yuan, a master of lyrical poetry, was widely celebrated throughout the realm for his works.

As Dai Yuan finished, all eyes—including Yin Ru Xin’s—turned to Prince Jing Min, curiosity piqued.

Prince Jing Min smiled mysteriously. “You have all heard of him. He is the man whom the emperor personally appointed as tutor to the crown prince—a certain Yang Yaozong, Grand Tutor to the Heir.” He pronounced Yang Yaozong’s name with deliberate emphasis.

Yin Ru Xin, upon hearing that Yang Yaozong was the awaited guest, was caught off guard. Her smile froze as she stared at the prince, astonished, before regaining her composure and resuming her graceful demeanor. Yet anxiety gnawed at her; throughout her recent interactions with Prince Jing Min, he had never mentioned inviting Yang Yaozong to the Qixi poetry gathering. Forced to maintain her smile, she was uneasy.

Having not seen Yang Yaozong for some time, she found herself restless each night, unable to sleep for thoughts of him.

She was angry with him for his silence, yet worried for him.

Thus she instructed her maid, Ruyi, to visit the Nangong estate daily, and herself made a few visits when idle, reassured to find nothing amiss.

She even considered sending Yin Ruyun to the palace for news, but upon careful reflection, decided it was unwise. Not only had Yin Ruyun previously attempted to threaten Yang Yaozong, but the palace was swarming with skilled guards. It would be reckless to risk her sister’s safety for her own affairs.

Though she did not consider herself virtuous, she would never harm her kin or friends—least of all her sister.

Therefore, she endured the torment of longing, sometimes weeping secretly at night, cursing and blaming him.

Now, upon hearing that Yang Yaozong was the awaited guest, hope surged within her; she yearned to see him, yet dreaded that he might witness her at Prince Jing Min’s side.

Seated next to the prince, she felt as though she sat atop needles, her beautiful eyes filled with complex emotion as she gazed toward the hall’s entrance.

Mu Qing Han, upon hearing Yang Yaozong’s name, was also surprised. “It’s him!” she thought, glancing at the vacant seat beside her.

Qin Xue Yao’s delicate cheeks flushed instantly. “How could it be him?!” she wondered, annoyed.

The second prince, Jing Yu, merely curled his lips upward, narrowing his phoenix-like eyes, as if anticipating some drama.

The rest of the hall, upon learning that Yang Yaozong was the awaited guest, displayed expressions of displeasure and contempt.

A plump, middle-aged man with a brush mustache saluted the prince and said, “Has anyone heard of Grand Tutor Yang Yaozong? I’ve heard he’s mediocre and frail.”

Yin Ru Xin’s smile remained unchanged as she looked around, but her eyes narrowed, icy as she glanced at the man.

Some guests quickly echoed his words.

“Zhang has heard that Yang Yaozong was appointed only because of the Nangong estate’s influence.”

“Li has heard he’s a man who trades on his reputation.”

Several others chimed in with gossip, and Yin Ru Xin’s heart burned with fury. Her fists clenched so tightly her nails bit into her palms; the pain anchored her, forcing calm, though her face twisted slightly, her smile cold as she glared at those spreading rumors—fortunately, everyone’s attention was on the gossip, none noticing her distress.

Mu Qing Han, her tone icy, brows knit, lips parted, glared at the chatterers. “I find it odd that you speak so boldly behind Grand Tutor Yang’s back. Have you met him? Are you acquainted? All I hear is ‘rumor has it.’ You are all learned, capable of discernment. Why trust hearsay, let alone discuss it so freely before the prince? Do you truly deserve the title of ‘talented scholar’?”

The few who had slandered Yang Yaozong blushed, unable to retort. Mu Qing Han had spoken truthfully—they neither knew nor had seen Yang Yaozong; they considered themselves his equal or superior, resentful that a mere son-in-law of the Nangong family should win such favor from both emperor and prince. Who with any talent would willingly marry into another family? So they believed the rumors they heard and thought it right to discuss and spread them, though it was merely to satisfy their own envy.

From the moment Mu Qing Han spoke, Yin Ru Xin watched her closely. Suddenly, her eyes brightened—she recalled that Mu Qing Han was the woman who had slapped Yang Yaozong during the Red Temple Festival.

Yin Ru Xin, observing Mu Qing Han’s beauty and cool demeanor, nodded and smiled. She was now certain Mu Qing Han was the woman from that day—a person outwardly aloof but full of righteous courage and warmth. Watching Mu Qing Han defend Yang Yaozong so forcefully, she felt a genuine liking for her.

“Indeed, Miss Mu speaks reasonably, but I must ask: who of any talent would willingly marry into another family? So please, do not rebuke these gentlemen so harshly. Besides, I know something of the matter—Yang Yaozong’s health is poor. On his wedding day to Nangong Qingyi, he needed support just to bow at the altar, and before the marriage could be consummated, Nangong Qingyi left him to follow the general to the frontier. I daresay she never truly wanted to marry him, likely finding him weak and untalented—easy to control. After all, he’s only a son-in-law. Such a pity for Nangong Qingyi, a national treasure!” This speaker was Wang Youwei, the eldest son of Wang Xiankui, Vice Minister of Rites, himself a former second-place candidate in the imperial examination, and a renowned scholar in the capital.

Wang Youwei’s words rekindled the gossipy atmosphere, and those previously rebuked looked at him with admiration.

Yin Ru Xin was stunned, then recalled the talents and temperaments of Nangong Qingyi and Yang Yaozong, and shook her head inwardly, dismissing Wang’s claims. She thought he was simply using Nangong Qingyi’s reputation to slander Yang Yaozong. She longed to slap his mouth, pull out his teeth, and cut out his tongue, so he could no longer speak. Her rage burned as she stared at Wang Youwei, who spoke with such conviction.

“Brother Wang, are you sure? Is this not another rumor?” asked the previously rebuked Li, eager to confirm.

“Of course it’s true! Ask Brother Qin—he attended Nangong Qingyi’s wedding!” Wang Youwei replied, lifting his chin.

All eyes turned to Brother Qin, who was Qin Haizhou’s younger brother, Qin Xue Yao’s elder brother, second son of the Minister of Revenue, now serving as a bureau director—Qin Haifan.

Qin Haifan had not spoken since the gossip began, only listened. He had heard all the rumors about Yang Yaozong, and had seen him at the Nangong estate. He believed Yang Yaozong to be weak and untalented. He himself admired Nangong Qingyi, and hearing others denigrate Yang Yaozong pleased him.

But when Wang Youwei called on him to confirm the story, he hesitated. If he validated Wang’s account, it would cement Yang Yaozong’s negative reputation. Yet his father had warned him never to disclose details of the wedding day. Most attendees were friends and loyalists of Nangong Zhan, unlikely to reveal what transpired; the public only knew the Nangong family had taken a son-in-law.

As everyone looked to him, waiting for his answer, he smiled and said, “Actually…”

“I’d like to ask Young Master Wang where he heard this,” Mu Qing Han interrupted, seeing that Qin Haifan was about to reveal the truth. She herself had been present that day, as had Qin Haifan. If he spoke openly, not only would Yang Yaozong be affected, but Nangong Qingyi as well. Mu Qing Han believed Yang Yaozong possessed some talent—though she did not know how much, he was, after all, Nangong Qingyi’s husband. If he believed Nangong Qingyi had left him because she despised him, their relationship would suffer. What would become of Nangong Qingyi then? So she hurried to intervene.

Yin Ru Xin, observing Mu Qing Han’s attempt to prevent Qin Haifan from speaking, grew more curious about Wang Youwei’s claims.

“Miss Mu, never mind where I heard it; just let Brother Qin speak the truth,” Wang Youwei retorted.

Once again, everyone’s gaze shifted from Mu Qing Han to Qin Haifan.

Qin Haifan, seeing Mu Qing Han’s anxious expression, said, “Actually, Miss Mu was present that day. That day…”

“Grand Tutor to the Heir, Yang Yaozong, has arrived!” came a servant's announcement from the hall’s entrance.