How Could One Merely Speak of Borrowing Robes?

Inside the cabin, the girl’s eyes remained fixed, unmoving.

The young man was writing, and with her keen eyesight, she could naturally discern the subtle charm in his calligraphy. Within those strokes were woven determination, decisiveness, and a spirit of striving forward; yet there was also an inexplicable etherealness, a sense of distance, and a calm, unhurried leisure. Beyond this, one felt a deliberate absence of ornate variety, as if the brush had swept away all worldly frivolity.

She simply could not fathom how someone so young, not yet twenty, could possess handwriting of such style. Only after a long while did she recover from her astonishment, confusion written all over her face as she stared at Zheng Fanren’s youthful visage.

Zheng Fanren, however, merely shook his head and muttered, “Writing too much on the ground does leave its mark.”

On the rice paper were eight characters: “How can one say there are no clothes? I will share my robe with you.”

Gazing at these words, Zheng Fanren nodded with quiet approval, not for the beauty of the calligraphy, but for his own shameless ingenuity. The original meaning: “How can you say there are no clothes? I will share my long robe with you.” Now, however, it simply expressed: “How can I say there are no clothes? I will share my long robe with you.”

...

The two had borrowed the host’s clothes and now appeared as wandering scholars. Though the girl’s figure was too delicate and her face too beautiful, as long as she followed Zheng Fanren and kept silent, there should be no problem.

He recalled that when they changed clothes earlier, she had merely gestured for him to turn around, never uttering a superfluous word. Though Zheng Fanren lamented that he was less than a beast, he nonetheless sincerely admired her unaffected manner.

Looking closely, the girl’s current attire possessed a unique charm, though for the moment he could not think how to describe it—perhaps it evoked certain memories of uniforms?

Seeing the girl still staring at the eight characters, Zheng Fanren chuckled softly, “Are these words not quite fitting for borrowing clothes?”

Yet she answered with another question, “I’d like to have this piece of writing, may I?”

“Wearing someone else’s clothes means giving the calligraphy to them, naturally. I’ll make you another next time.”

With utmost seriousness, she nodded vigorously, as if to say, “You’ve promised me!”

Then she asked, “What should we do now?”

“Of course, we go to their banquet! Remember, I am Zheng Taibai, and you are Ma Sanbao!”

...

The names were indeed excellent—especially Ma Sanbao, which, used for a woman, was irresistibly amusing.

...

With a leisurely air, the two walked toward the music. Only upon stepping into the banquet did they realize the ship’s second floor formed a spacious hall, exquisitely arranged; even the girl, accustomed to luxury, could not help but nod in silent approval.

Within, some gathered around tables to appreciate paintings and recite verses, others stood discussing history and current affairs, some participated in drinking games, while others enjoyed music and dance. The pair was immediately suffused with a sense of worldly freedom.

They quietly took seats in an inconspicuous corner, side by side, and were promptly served an array of exquisite dishes. Zheng Fanren accepted as if by habit, and the girl, accustomed to such scenes, remained unfazed. Still, she marveled at Zheng Fanren’s comportment, inwardly wondering, “Is he truly the servant sent by the Nangong family’s young master to rescue me?”

This was not the time for such thoughts. Their stomachs, long empty, protested, so they ate with abandon—though their manner left much to be desired. The serving girls could only smile politely, clearly unused to such ravenous guests.

After a short while, the girl, disguised as a young man, ceased her frantic eating and turned to see Zheng Fanren's side of the table already spotless, save for a few elegant porcelain bowls, as the serving girls prepared to refill them.

It was only then that the pair realized the burning gazes of those around them. They exchanged wry smiles, but Zheng Fanren quickly put on a wistful expression and said, “Who knows the toil behind each grain of rice in the bowl?”

The others, who had initially been offended by their lack of decorum, nearly disgracing the refined atmosphere, were taken aback by Zheng Fanren’s impromptu verse and dared not underestimate him. The girl, too, was surprised by his quick wit, but seeing him eat and drink at others’ expense, even going so far as to lecture the crowd, she was almost at a loss whether to laugh or cry.

Seated beside Zheng Fanren was a scholar in a white robe, his handsome face exuding calm confidence. He leaned slightly, catching a faint, elegant fragrance, and was secretly startled: “Heaven’s Eye Incense?”

With respect, he addressed them: “Forgive my boldness, but you two are unfamiliar to me. May I ask for your names? Do you have friends here?”

Zheng Fanren replied serenely, “My humble surname is Zheng, given name Taibai; this is my brother, Ma Sanbao. As for friends, it’s best not to speak of them—please pardon us.”

Surprisingly, his evasive answer only made the young scholar more courteous. “Understood, understood. I am Zhou Ziwen. I find both Brother Zheng and Brother Ma to be men of remarkable talent. Brother Zheng, in particular, crafts fine verses at will. May I have the honor of your acquaintance?”

Zheng Fanren answered, “It is my pleasure to befriend Brother Zhou!”

The girl, in her male disguise, nodded earnestly in agreement. Zhou Ziwen’s face lit up with joy, much to their confusion, for his delight seemed almost excessive.

The scholar immediately raised his cup and said solemnly, “It is truly fate to meet you both. Allow me to offer you a toast!”

All three drank together—the girl sipping only a little. When the cups were set down, Zhou Ziwen asked, “The storm raged earlier, and the river runs fast. We must be nearing Luo City. Are you two bound for the city?”

Zheng Fanren nodded, “Yes, we are going to Luo City to study.”

Zhou Ziwen’s face showed a hint of disappointment. “Ah, I must continue downriver and cannot enter the city with you. I only hope we meet again in Luo City someday.”

They drank and chatted, but Zheng Fanren was careful not to reveal anything personal, sticking to polite conversation. The girl only smiled occasionally or nodded, and Zheng Fanren explained that her throat was unwell and she was not fond of wine, which Zhou Ziwen did not mind.

Their conversation grew lively, and from time to time Zheng Fanren recited a verse or two from his previous life, which only strengthened Zhou Ziwen’s impression of his extraordinary talent.

...

The boat sped on, and after half an hour, the silhouette of the city walls appeared outside the window. They would dock in another quarter of an hour.

Zheng Fanren took his leave of Zhou Ziwen, and the youth and the girl made their way down to the main deck. As they reached the stairs, they saw a fair-faced scholar coming up, holding a sheet of rice paper.

The scholar’s beauty was truly peerless. In that instant, the girl felt as if time itself had stopped, her breath caught in her throat. That such a scholar could exist in this world—though he stood so near, he seemed impossibly distant, unattainable.

Zheng Fanren, however, had no mind to marvel. He had already seen the rice paper—it was the same piece with the eight borrowed words he had written earlier. In a flash, he understood that the scholar before him was the owner of the room.

Before the scholar could cry out in surprise, Zheng Fanren struck and rendered him unconscious.

When Zheng Fanren carried the scholar back into the room, the girl still felt as if she were in a dream. Fortunate that the maids and servants were all on the second floor—otherwise, the consequences would have been dire.

However, as Zheng Fanren gently laid the scholar on the bed, his hand inadvertently brushed the scholar’s chest. He cried out in shock, “She’s a woman!”

Now there were two girls in male disguise in the room. The youth glanced from the standing girl to the one lying down, sighing inwardly.

The girl standing remarked, “No wonder she’s so beautiful!”

Zheng Fanren was about to reply when suddenly a shout came from outside: “Everyone be careful—there are thieves on board!”