Chapter Forty-Four: The Double Seventh Poetry Gathering (Part Five)

Yang Yaozong gazed into Yin Ruxin’s beautiful eyes, brimming with surprise and admiration, and cupped his hands in a respectful salute. The corners of his mouth curled into a charming, confident smile as he said, “I must trouble Miss Yin to record once more.”

Everyone present was still immersed in the lingering mood of the first poem. When they heard that Yang Yaozong was about to recite yet another verse, they looked at him in astonishment. After the creation of the first poem, no one dared question Yang Yaozong’s talent any longer. Now, to hear that he intended to compose a second—one he even claimed would surpass the first—left them all the more amazed.

Especially Mu Qinghan. She gazed at Yang Yaozong with a complicated expression, thinking to herself, Had I misjudged him all this time? What kind of man is he, truly? If he indeed possesses such exceptional talent, then Qingyi has certainly found a rare and worthy husband. But as for Qingyi herself… Sigh! Mu Qinghan, being Nangong Qingyi’s closest friend, knew well that on the day of her marriage, Qingyi could have remained, but chose instead to join the military expedition. It was clear she harbored some intent to escape from Yang Yaozong. Yet, seeing Yang Yaozong now, so different from before, Mu Qinghan could not help but wonder what feelings Nangong Qingyi would have if she were here to witness this change.

Yang Yaozong’s deep gaze met Yin Ruxin’s eyes, and she felt the depth of his affection, warmth rising in her heart. She bit her cherry lips to restrain her excitement.

He recalled how he and Yin Ruxin had come to know, understand, and love each other. Though their meetings had been few, it felt as though fate had long since bound them together. Her profound love had dispelled the loneliness of this era for him, giving his heart a sense of belonging. Yet both were pitiable in their own ways—she, with her unspeakable duty, and he, burdened with secrets none could know. In spite of it all, their hearts remained tightly entwined—no, in truth, hopelessly entangled.

When he saw Yin Ruxin today, especially seated beside the eldest prince, he felt a sudden, tearing pain within his heart, despite having prepared himself for this encounter. To hide his feelings, he dared not look at her, and only then did he realize just how deeply he loved her. Her every smile and frown, every tease and anger, was etched into his soul. This lovable and infuriating woman had taken root in his heart.

He remembered their laughter and heartfelt conversations in her little courtyard, in the hall, in the pavilion, on the stone steps, in the embroidery tower. It was always she who took the initiative, enveloping him in her love, until just now, in the rear garden, he could no longer conceal his longing and affection.

Yang Yaozong gave Yin Ruxin a gentle, warm smile, then slowly walked toward the door, leaning against the frame to gaze at the starry sky. His voice was low, magnetic, and carried softly through the hall:

“Immortal at the Magpie Bridge—Delicate Clouds Weave Artful Patterns.”

All eyes were on Yang Yaozong, with only Yin Ruxin’s trembling hand recording his words. The rest watched his silhouette against the night, softly murmuring the title he had just recited: “Immortal at the Magpie Bridge—Delicate Clouds Weave Artful Patterns.”

Yang Yaozong began to recite, slowly unfolding the poem:
“Delicate clouds weave artful patterns, shooting stars carry unspoken sorrows,
Across the Milky Way, lovers cross in secret.
When golden breeze and jade dew meet, that one encounter surpasses countless in the mortal world.”

The phrase “across the Milky Way, lovers cross in secret” used “across” to describe the river’s vastness, making the distance between the lovers even more profound than in previous verses, deepening the emotion and highlighting the bitterness of longing. The words “cross in secret” subtly signaled the theme of the Double Seventh Festival.

Everyone present felt as if they themselves were experiencing the endless stretch of the Milky Way, how it separated two loving souls, how difficult it was for them to meet. The poem captured the lovers’ deep yearning and the pain of their separation.

Yang Yaozong paused, then continued in a soft, resonant voice:
“Gentle as water, tender as dreams, how can one bear to look back at the return path over the Magpie Bridge?
If love between two hearts can endure, why must they meet day after day, night after night?”

When he finished, the hall was enveloped in silence. Yin Ruxin, trembling, barely managed to write down the last words, her hands braced against the table for support. Her teeth nearly drew blood from her lips. A single tear fell from her eye, which she hurriedly brushed away with the back of her hand. Lowering her head, she gazed at the poem she had just transcribed, her heart brimming with sweetness and happiness, her smile as radiant as a goddess.

If, in the past, she had sensed that Yang Yaozong’s feelings for her were ambiguous and distant, today she felt, deeply and unmistakably, the clarity and intensity of his love. Had they been alone, she would surely have rushed into his arms, holding him tightly to savor his affection.

The others regarded Yang Yaozong with complex expressions. Centered on the Double Seventh, this “Immortal at the Magpie Bridge—Delicate Clouds Weave Artful Patterns” was perfectly suited to the occasion. The first stanza passionately praised a pure, eternal love, while the second half captured the lovers’ complex emotions upon reuniting—uncertainty, dreamlike wonder, and, at parting on the Magpie Bridge, lingering affection taken to its utmost height. The final lines were the poem’s soul: “If love between two hearts can endure, why must they meet day after day, night after night?” True love withstands long separations; as long as there is mutual sincerity, even being apart for years is more precious than the mundane companionship of every day.

After some time, Yang Yaozong rose and walked to Yin Ruxin’s side, nodding approvingly at her neat, elegant handwriting and whispering, “Your calligraphy is truly beautiful. Alas, mine is hardly presentable.” Then, raising his voice, he added, “Thank you, Miss Yin, for recording this for me.”

Yin Ruxin shot him a sidelong glance and replied with a graceful curtsey, “It is a great honor for me to record the verses of the Grand Imperial Tutor today.” She then returned elegantly to her seat.

Under everyone’s gaze, Yang Yaozong also returned to his place. Mu Qinghan, frowning slightly, looked at him with a complicated expression and softly began, “You…”

Yang Yaozong smiled, waiting for her to finish, but she only looked at him, troubled, and said nothing more. He prompted her with a gentle, “Hm?”

Mu Qinghan shook her head. She had wanted to ask if this poem had been inspired by Nangong Qingyi, but refrained. She knew there was no real affection between Nangong Qingyi and Yang Yaozong. Yet, how could such heartfelt words be written without true feeling? Her doubts remained.

The hall was silent for a long while. Then Dai Yuan, the elder, rose and bowed respectfully to Yang Yaozong. “I am but a humble old man, and only today do I realize the Grand Imperial Tutor’s extraordinary gift for poetry. Your talent is truly remarkable. I am deeply impressed.”

Yang Yaozong hurriedly rose and returned the bow. “I am unworthy of such praise, Elder.”

Afterwards, all those who had previously doubted Yang Yaozong’s abilities stood, one by one, to express their admiration with sincere respect.

The eldest prince, Jing Min, said, “Grand Imperial Tutor, I believe this ‘Immortal at the Magpie Bridge—Delicate Clouds Weave Artful Patterns’ will be the crown jewel among all Double Seventh verses this year. The poetry gathering I’ve hosted owes its renown to you. This verse moves the heart deeply. I boldly guess it was inspired by your longing for our Great Zhou’s Lady Strategist! Yes… ‘If love endures, why must they meet day after day, night after night?’—surely this speaks of you and Nangong Qingyi. Your talent is exceptional—Jing Min is in awe!”

“Indeed, who would have thought the Grand Imperial Tutor could infuse his feelings for Lady Nangong so perfectly into his poetry? Only a love as steadfast as the sea could produce such words!”

“Absolutely! The story of the Grand Imperial Tutor and Lady Nangong’s love is a model for all Great Zhou!”

“A model? It’s legendary—comparable to the Cowherd and Weaver Girl. If this Double Seventh poem spreads widely, so too will the tale of your love.”

And so the gathering, instead of producing more poems, became a celebration of Yang Yaozong and Nangong Qingyi’s love.

Yang Yaozong could only accept their praise with awkward politeness, occasionally glancing at Yin Ruxin, who met his gaze with an enchanting smile, half amused, half teasing.