Chapter Eighty-Eight: Music, Chess, Poetry, Calligraphy, and Painting

More than two hundred copies of the imperial examination answer sheets were swiftly graded by a group of aides serving the Wang family. The two top-scoring papers were then handed to the middle-aged man.

One paper featured neat and meticulous handwriting, with every answer correct. The middle-aged man stroked his long beard, glanced at the name—Jun Ruocheng, the legitimate son of the Qin Marquis’s household—and nodded in satisfaction. It seemed the top scholar of Lizheng Academy truly lived up to his reputation, possessing the talent of a champion.

He then picked up the second paper, its handwriting lively and unruly, which immediately displeased the man. Reviewing the answers, he found them all correct except for one mistake.

Curious, he examined the lone error and instantly flew into a rage, taking a crimson brush and marking a large cross across the sheet.

Shortly after, Lu Jiu entered the grading room with an indifferent demeanor, noticing the middle-aged man holding a teacup, his face full of frustration.

“Brother-in-law, what happened to upset you so much?” Lu Jiu quietly inquired.

This gaunt, sharp-eyed middle-aged man of distinguished bearing was none other than Zhang Xun, a third-place candidate in the imperial examinations at the end of the Kaiyuan era. He had taken the sixth daughter of the Wang family, Wang Shanhai, as his concubine and had served as county magistrate of Qinghe in Hebei for eight years.

With his term ending this year and his recall to the capital, he happened to witness his sister-in-law Wang Liuli’s search for a suitor. Volunteering as the examiner for the Mingjing exam, he had not expected to encounter such nonsense.

Placing the marked paper on the table before Lu Jiu with a scowl, he slammed his palm heavily on the desk. “Jiu, this is the person you value! Such a frivolous and disrespectful fellow—how could he possibly claim the top spot?”

Lu Jiu anxiously took the paper and examined it carefully. One question involved the “Mencius” chapter from the pre-Qin period, a dialogue between Mencius and his disciple Jingchun.

The correct answer should have been: “Wealth cannot corrupt, poverty cannot move, power cannot bend.” Yet Lu Liao Liao had written: “Bah, what a stinking load of nonsense!”

Lu Jiu’s face darkened; this was an exceedingly simple question, one even a child recently taught to read could easily answer. But this fellow had deliberately answered as such to mock Mencius’s criticism of his predecessor Guigu Yan, and to imply that Zhang Yi was no true man.

Furious, Lu Jiu tore Lu Liao Liao’s paper into fragments, seething with anger. Did this detestable person truly treat this matchmaking contest as a game?

The Mingjing exam results showed that Lu Liao Liao’s name was absent even from the top ten, let alone the three tiers of honors. Gu Xihua looked at the embarrassed Lu Liao Liao in surprise. “Weren’t you so confident about easily winning the spring imperial examination? How come you can’t even make the top ten in this mere two hundred-person contest for the Wang family’s suitors?”

“Well, there must have been some mistake somewhere,” Lu Liao Liao mumbled, touching his forehead, ashamed to face anyone.

The poetry judge was an elderly man with snow-white hair, his weathered face etched with disappointment and bitterness. Poetry was Lu Liao Liao’s weakest subject. On a whim, he penned down his master Li Bai’s yet unpublished poem “Invitation to Wine” with swift, flowing strokes.

The white-haired elder accepted the poem and casually glanced at it, then suddenly widened his eyes.

“Have you not seen the Yellow River’s waters come from the sky, rushing to the sea, never to return?
Have you not seen the bright mirror in the high hall sorrow for white hair, morning like black silk, evening turned to snow?
…Fine steeds, costly furs, call the boy to exchange for good wine, to drown eternal sorrows with you.”

The old man softly recited the “Invitation to Wine,” deeply moved to tears. Turning his back to the others still pondering, he waved his hand.

“There’s no need for others to strain themselves writing poetry. With this ‘Invitation to Wine,’ none in all of Tang could match it—perhaps only the Immortal Poet Li Bai himself could compose another poem to rival this.”

The crowd erupted in chaos, clamoring to read this poem comparable to the Immortal Poet’s work. After a long while, one by one shook their heads and withdrew with solemn expressions.

Some even believed that not even Li Bai himself could produce a new “Invitation to Wine” of such stature.

Lu Liao Liao had thus secured first place in poetry, though he himself wished to flee the scene quickly.

Cheng Changmu caught hold of Lu Liao Liao as he tried to slip away, gazing at him with admiration.

“Brother Liao Liao, you truly deceived us back then. You said you couldn’t compose poetry under the Immortal Poet’s shadow, yet today your ‘Invitation to Wine’ shakes the ages and is praised by thousands. The title ‘disciple of the Immortal Poet’ is well earned. What honor for me, Cheng Fatty!”

Lu Liao Liao covered his face, blushing deeply, and whispered to Cheng Fatty, “To be honest, this ‘Invitation to Wine’ wasn’t written by me at all—it’s my master Li Bai’s poem.”

Cheng Fatty looked bewildered. “That’s allowed?”

Lu Liao Liao shrugged naturally. “Why not? My master Li Bai’s poems are mine. If you have the skill, go find your own Immortal Poet master.”

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Excitedly clutching the poem, Zhang Xun sought out Lu Liao Liao and overheard their entire conversation from behind.

“Disciple borrowing his master’s work—what a shameless act! Lu Liao Liao, how could the Immortal Poet Li Bai accept such a scoundrel!”

Zhang Xun shook with anger and stormed off, while Cheng Changmu scrutinized Lu Liao Liao from all sides.

“What are you looking at?” Lu Liao Liao snapped, annoyed.

“Shameless, simply shameless! Brother Liao Liao, my admiration for you has reached new heights,” Cheng Changmu laughed uproariously, shaking his rotund frame.

In the following two or three days, Lu Liao Liao felt everyone’s strange gazes upon him. His calligraphy, qin playing, and painting all faltered, while Jun Ruocheng continuously claimed top honors in painting and calligraphy, far ahead.

Gu Xihua, the qin champion, smiled triumphantly before Lu Liao Liao. Lu Jiu approached them with a dark expression.

“Lu Liao Liao! Are you deliberately making things difficult for me?”

“That guy stole his master’s poem and cheated to win first in poetry. He’s been nervous and underperformed these past days, not intentionally,” Gu Xihua hurriedly defended the blushing Lu Liao Liao.

“Don’t tell me you’re that boastful paper tiger Zhao Kuo,” Lu Jiu coldly retorted, ignoring the explanation.

“Wang Liuli, watch closely. In the upcoming contests, I’ll definitely bring you several first prizes,” Lu Liao Liao’s temper flared.

“Oh? Then I’ll be waiting,” Lu Jiu’s provocation succeeded, a slight smile curling her lips as she walked away pleased.

Only about sixty participated in the chess tournament. Lu Liao Liao, as if by fortune, had two consecutive byes, leisurely observing before losing interest.

In the round of sixteen, Lu Liao Liao calmly folded his fan, awaiting his opponent.

Gu Xihua, after hard-fought victories, “luckily” drew Lu Liao Liao—who had benefited from two byes—as her next challenger. With everyone’s attention on the popular Jun Ruocheng, Gu Xihua sat before Lu Liao Liao, smiling charmingly.

“Husband, can you let me win once?”

Her voice was sweet, almost enchantingly so, making one’s bones tingle.

Had this been before, Lu Liao Liao would have quickly yielded. Now, he wore a scowl and coldly stared at her.

“What do you think?”

“Hmph!” Gu Xihua snorted, then suddenly slapped Lu Liao Liao’s hand hard when no one was looking. “If you won’t let me, then fine—I’m not afraid of you.”

Lu Liao Liao smiled faintly, gesturing for her to go first. Gu Xihua fumed, stood, and turned away without looking back.

“I admit defeat; I have no desire to play against someone who doesn’t cherish the gentle.”

With ease, Lu Liao Liao won two more matches unnoticed, advancing to the finals. Meanwhile, the much-anticipated Jun Ruocheng also strode confidently into the finals.

As night fell, the competition was postponed to the next day.

On the day of the finals, the Wang family invited a disciple of the Chess Sage Wang Jixin to set up a demonstration in the courtyard, explaining moves and opening betting for spectators.

Countless guests bet heavily on Qin Jun Ruocheng, with odds at 1.5 to 1. Few supported Lu Liao Liao, whose odds were 11 to 1.

Gu Xihua gathered all her valuables but still lacked enough, so she turned to Zhou Liuzi, Hu the Gang Leader, and others. Though reluctant, Zhou Liuzi offered a pitiful one or two hundred copper coins, shaking his head that he had nothing more.

Gu Xihua snatched Zhou Liuzi’s jade pendant, leaving him nearly in tears. That pendant held special meaning, having been hard-won from Lu Liao Liao’s clutches—and now it might be lost again.

“I’m kindly trying to help you two poor wretches get rich—why the long faces?” Gu Xihua said irritably.

“Really?” Pei Wuniang looked doubtful.

“Do you think I, Gu Xihua, would cheat you out of such small sums?” Gu Xihua’s face showed urgency.

Gritting her teeth, Pei Wuniang took off two pieces of jewelry Tang Xiaoqi had gifted her, then handed over all two hundred copper coins to Gu Xihua, before turning to glare fiercely at the tag-along Li Sheng.

Li Sheng helplessly touched his head, pitifully producing a few dozen copper coins but nothing more. Pei Wuniang took off his sword and added it to the pile given to Gu Xihua.

“That’s my family’s heirloom sword! If I lose it, my parents will beat me to death with sticks,” Li Sheng muttered, eyes fixed on his sword.

“If we lose, we’ll make our senior brother compensate. If we win, we’ll earn more than ten times that amount. Don’t you have any courage or spirit?” Pei Wuniang said confidently and fearlessly.

Gu Xihua was relieved, confident in Lu Liao Liao’s chess skills. Losing would bring him much trouble.

Glancing at the bustling bets on Qin Ruocheng, Gu Xihua sighed, realizing she still didn’t have enough.

Looking around, she suddenly spotted the young Taoist Gu Ye and the robed Ge Shu Xiaoye, who looked like ethereal disciples. Smiling, she approached them.

“Gu Ye, your junior brother Lu Liao Liao is competing in chess. Won’t you bet on him instead of just watching?”

Gu Ye looked confused at the elegant young man before him, vaguely familiar but unable to place him.

“May I ask, do we know each other?”

Gu Xihua realized not everyone, unlike Lu Liao Liao, could recognize her despite her disguises.

“I’m Xihua. I came to participate in the Wang family’s matchmaking and made a small change. No wonder you didn’t recognize me.”

“I’m afraid my junior sister and I are monks,” Gu Ye replied. “Regarding Lu and Jun Ruocheng’s match, we can only cheer silently. Betting is out of the question.”

Though Lu was clever and resourceful, in chess Gu Ye believed Jun Ruocheng, who had consecutively defeated several talents, had a better chance than the somewhat cunning Lu.

Noticing Gu Ye’s flushed ears, Gu Xihua smiled knowingly.

“I’m unsure about Jun Ruocheng’s chess skills, but I know Lu’s well. His skills are peerless; in all Chang’an, only the Chess Sage Wang Jixin might be his match.”

Ge Shu Xiaoye’s bright eyes twitched as she discreetly tapped Gu Ye on the back.

“Ha ha!” Gu Ye laughed. “As his senior brother, I must fully support my junior brother in any match.”

Cheng Changmu, who had intended to approach Gu Ye, had his ears pricked up, overhearing the entire conversation.

Seeing Gu Ye and Ge Shu Xiaoye removing all their pearls and jade, he hurried forward.

“Wait, wait! I’ll bet all my valuables on Brother Liao Liao’s victory.”

“Cheng Fatty, aren’t you Jun Ruocheng’s good friend? Why support Lu instead?” Ge Shu Xiaoye teased with a smile.

“Ha ha! Even for good friends, I can’t go against my money. Jun Ruocheng is upright and strict, but Brother Liao Liao is cunning. In chess, I’ll bet on him,” Cheng Changmu said confidently, smiling as if oblivious to their remarks.