Chapter Forty-Two: A Title Brings Trouble

The Qu River lies in the southeastern corner of the imperial capital, in a place of peculiar geography, half within the city and half beyond its walls. Here stood not only the well-known Lotus Garden, but also the Apricot Garden and the Great Compassion and Grace Temple. At this moment it was the season when apricot blossoms were in bloom, brilliant as clouds at sunset.

The painted pleasure boats circled the river’s bend, and the scenery on both banks lay fully before the eye. Whether it was the grandeur of the Lotus Garden, the solemn majesty of the Great Compassion and Grace Temple, or the vivid splendor of the Apricot Garden, all could be taken in from the water.

Pei Min looked at the scenery on either bank while discussing the art of sword dancing with Jiao Chen.

Jiao Chen was not especially renowned for her dancing skill, but as a singer, dance was also a required discipline, and she had attained a considerable level of mastery. Gongsun You’s sword dance sprang from folk traditions, bearing a distinctive vernacular flavor, graceful and beautiful, whereas Pei Min’s sword dance was different. He had learned it from his mother, Lady Pei, who, before marrying his father, had been a court dancer carefully trained by the Pei family. As a clan of high birth and powerful standing, the Pei family entertained mostly nobles and officials, so their dance emphasized splendor and grandeur.

Gongsun You’s style differed from Pei Min’s. Though they had much to discuss regarding sword dance, and though folk and official sword-dance traditions shared some common ground, they ultimately belonged to two different styles, with very little that could truly be borrowed from one to the other.

Jiao Chen was different. She had been a singer properly trained by the Bureau of Music, and the dance knowledge she possessed had many points in common with the sword dance Pei Min had learned. Her guidance allowed the self-taught Pei Min to grasp the precious experience left behind by his predecessors, from which he benefited greatly.

Jiao Chen had never imagined that Pei Min would be so devoted to the art of dance, and that he possessed such extraordinary talent as well. He understood many essentials at a single point.

One was willing to learn, the other willing to teach; before they knew it, time had slipped away unnoticed.

The pleasure boat docked at the edge of the Great Compassion and Grace Temple. Looking at the boat now at rest, and at the glowing sunset filling the heavens, Pei Min knew that this outing on the Qu River was drawing to a close.

“Time passes so quickly!” Pei Min glanced at the beauty beside him, and his heart was stirred. No wonder poets and men of letters were so fond of the company of courtesans; even great sages such as Li Bai and Su Shi were no exception. It was not merely the desire for pleasure and delight, but more importantly the exchange of feeling and the meeting of temperaments. As Mr. Lin Yutang once said, the romantic spirit of Chinese men was taught by singing girls, and that was by no means false.

Jiao Chen was beautiful and gifted, and moreover she was considerate and understanding. Every word and gesture of hers was thoughtful and warm. How could one not be moved?

Jiao Chen had never expected to feel the same way. She had also joined the Qu River outing last year, but then she had felt only that each day dragged like a year, wishing only that time might move a little faster. Yet now she found herself reluctant to leave, wishing that time could pass more slowly.

“Let’s go,” Pei Min said when he saw others already linking arms affectionately and stepping from the deck onto the embankment. With a touch of lingering attachment, he added, “We should head down as well, lest we keep them waiting too long.”

Jiao Chen nodded and softly replied, “All right.”

Many present were astonished to see Pei Min and Jiao Chen walking toward them, speaking in low, cheerful tones all the way.

Jiao Chen, the foremost beauty of the music quarter, was known to be cold and aloof, distant from ordinary people. How had she become so intimate with Pei Min?

Could it be...?

The talented young men who had each harbored secret admiration for Jiao Chen all shook their heads in admiration at the sight. Aside from Pei Yu, who had long held a deep grudge, none of the others felt unwilling to concede. With Pei Min’s talent and abilities before their eyes, what right had they not to be convinced?

Xue Yong, from afar, gave Pei Min a meaningful gesture.

Pei Min was utterly baffled.

The Great Compassion and Grace Temple was the final stop of their excursion for the newly minted jinshi, and their destination there was the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda.

The Giant Wild Goose Pagoda, also known as the Temple of Compassion and Grace Pagoda, had been built under the supervision of the holy monk Xuanzang, who had brought back from India the scriptures and Buddhist images he wished to preserve in Chang’an. When first completed, the pagoda had only five stories. It was rebuilt during the reign of Wu Zetian and expanded into a seven-story tower of blue brick. Later, breaking with the established Tang custom of building Buddhist pagodas in odd-numbered, auspicious tiers, three more stories were added, and it now stood ten stories high.

This ten-story treasure tower rose into the clouds. From its summit, nearly half of Chang’an could be seen at a glance.

Pei Min walked ahead with Jiao Chen. It was his first time visiting the Great Compassion and Grace Temple, but the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda stood out like a crane among chickens, so even a first-time visitor could find it without difficulty.

Though the sky was already growing dark, the surrounding crowds still came and went without cease. But once they saw the group, they too realized what was about to happen and followed along, gathering into a flowing mass. All wished to witness the annual inscribing of names on the pagoda, and to see, perhaps years later, the maker of those vermilion seals and red marks.

During the Shenlong era of Emperor Zhongzong of Tang, the jinshi Zhang Ju visited the Temple of Compassion and Grace and, on a whim, wrote his name beneath the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda. It had been an unintentional act, yet it inspired countless literati to follow his example, especially newly appointed jinshi, who came to regard the pagoda inscription as a supreme honor. They would write their names, native place, and the year of their success on the wall in ink. If any among them later rose to the rank of minister or chancellor, their names would be rewritten in cinnabar.

Since Zhang Ju’s time, only a scant few had truly earned the honor of being rewritten in cinnabar and thus remembered through the ages. But even without such later alteration, simply having one’s name written on the wall of the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda was itself a tremendous glory.

Arriving at the foot of the pagoda and seeing the names of more than a hundred jinshi, Pei Min felt a small thrill at the thought that his own name would soon appear upon this stone wall.

“Brother Pei, then we’ll leave the inscription to you,” Lu Ze and Feng Zhi said as they came near, looking at Pei Min with expectation. Though they did not say it outright, their meaning was clear enough.

Pei Min understood what they intended. Not everyone was qualified to inscribe their name upon the pagoda. By now the practice had become regulated by formal decree: only those who had passed the jinshi examination were permitted to write their names on the pagoda. Who would not want to seize such an honor? Yet today none could match Pei Min’s performance. If he did not consent, they truly had no face to contend for it. Among their cohort, encountering a top scholar like Pei Min, they felt only helplessness. Even if they had earned the favor of the Grand Princess, it could not erase the gap in ability.

Pei Min nodded and said, “My calligraphy has a trace of the flavor of the Right Army, and I certainly won’t fail the trust of the two of you.”

He had no deep ties with Lu Ze or Feng Zhi, and there was no need, at such a moment, to hand over this honor that had fallen into his hands.

Lu Ze and Feng Zhi were outmatched in skill and could only accept their lot.

The inscription of names on the pagoda had already become one of Chang’an’s sights. The abbot of the Great Compassion and Grace Temple attached great importance to the jinshi who came each year to inscribe their names, and had long since prepared the finest brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, awaiting the arrival of the company of scholars.

Pei Min went to the foot of the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda and exchanged greetings with the abbot. The abbot then instructed a young novice to bring out the prepared writing set.

Just as the little novice was on his way, the crowd suddenly grew congested for no apparent reason. A traveler was abruptly shoved out from the mass and collided with the young novice.

The brush, ink, paper, and inkstone scattered across the ground, and the inkstone itself fell and shattered into pieces.

The traveler looked somewhat alarmed, and shouted angrily at the crowd, “Who pushed me?”

Pei Min looked toward the crowd. The faces there were all innocent, yet not far from where the incident had occurred, he noticed a familiar cold smile in the line of sight... Chang Hao.