Xuanqing Guard-Chapter 65: Thinking of You

What does it mean to be a cultured person? It’s someone who’s read a lot, with the air of books both inside and out.

People like Jiang Cheng, worldly and knowledgeable as they are, have their own standards for judging scholars; in his eyes, a true scholar carries a particular kind of presence.

But to say Shen Hao is a scholar—let alone one with remarkable literary talent... Jiang Cheng really can’t bring himself to believe it.

Even when Lian Xiang sang that song called "A Cut of Plum," Jiang Cheng still wasn’t convinced. What if Shen Hao just copied it from somewhere? Not impossible at all.

It’s not a bias on Jiang Cheng’s part, just a habit of perception—he’s used to believing only what he sees, and being skeptical of what he hears.

Yet in this world, some things aren’t necessarily true even when you see them with your own eyes.

"Shen Zongqi, you gave a song to Sister Xiuyun the first time you met—you can’t say I’m not as good as Xiuyun, can you? Why not give me a song too!"

Lian Xiang played coy in a sweet, teasing voice, clinging to Shen Hao’s arm with half her body resting against him.

If it had been any other day, any woman who dared flirt with him like this would have gotten a taste of his temper. But today was different. Just now, Jiang Cheng’s cautious attitude toward Lian Xiang Songstress kept Shen Hao from acting up as he might have.

"Exactly, Shen Hao—if you have one, just give her a song! You’ll only gain from it," Jiang Cheng chimed in, eager to see if Shen Hao really had such poetic flair, and giving him a little nudge as well.

"Pretty please?"

Feeling both the heat and seductive energy radiating from Lian Xiang, Shen Hao subconsciously swallowed; he marveled at her prowess and quickly nodded. "Since the lord says I have nothing to lose, of course there’s no problem. I wonder, Miss Lian Xiang, what kind of poem would you like?"

"Wait, is that how it works? Shen Zongqi, are you going to compose it on the spot?!"

Lian Xiang’s eyes lit up. To be honest, she had her doubts whether "A Cut of Plum" really came from Shen Hao—after all, he didn’t look the part of a ’cultured person’ at all. But now, Shen Hao was actually asking for her thoughts? Wasn’t that as good as saying he would write based on her suggestion?

"Miss Lian Xiang, just say what you want—a poem is all it is." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Shen Hao brimmed with confidence. With thousands of years of Huaxia poetry behind him, what could possibly stump him? Besides, Jiang Cheng had made a request, and now that he’d joined their ranks, Shen Hao had to give him that much face.

"Hehe, then I’ll say it!"

"Please."

"Hmm... The lingering feeling in that ’A Cut of Plum’ you gave Sister Xiuyun—I just loved it. Why not, Shen Zongqi, gift me a poem with similar charm?"

So, something like "A Cut of Plum"?

Shen Hao nodded, then closed his eyes, seemingly composing, but actually digging through the treasury left by the Huaxia ancestors in his mind, picking out something suitable.

Everyone present fell silent. Even if they didn’t eat pork, they’d seen pigs run—naturally, Shen Hao must be composing now; no one dared interrupt.

After the time it took to finish a cup of tea, Shen Hao settled on one he felt was satisfactory.

He opened his eyes, organized his thoughts, then began reciting:

"I live at the head of the Bai River, and you at its end.

Day after day, I long for you but cannot see you; yet together we drink the Bai River’s water.

When will this river ever cease? When will this longing come to an end?

May your heart be as mine,

Never betraying the intent of longing."

The first time, Shen Hao simply recited it; the second, he sang with a melody. Though Shen Hao’s voice was average, his pitch was on point—so with the lyrics, the song actually sounded quite decent.

This kind of tune, to the men present, was just so-so. Pleasant enough, yes, but not really to their taste. But to the ears of Lian Xiang Songstress, it was like a living painting: sorrowful, gentle, and haunting. She instinctively placed herself in the shoes of the woman in the song.

Who knows if the poem simply touched Lian Xiang’s heart, or if she was just a sensitive woman by nature. Either way, by the time Shen Hao finished, her radiant cheeks were already streaked with tears.

"Waaah, Shen Zongqi, you’re terrible! You made me cry!"

Playing cute as she dove into Shen Hao’s arms to wipe her eyes, this Green Waist Songstress was much more overwhelming than Wen Xiuyun. That blend of seduction and delicate vulnerability wasn’t something just anyone could replicate.

Shen Hao shook his head to steady himself, chuckling, "Miss Lian Xiang, you’d better stand up—your makeup will get smudged."

"Hmph!"

With a dainty fist she thumped his chest, but Lian Xiang sat upright again. Not a trace of tears remained, and her makeup was flawless. The men around couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

Shooting an aggrieved glance at the clueless man beside her, Lian Xiang asked expectantly, "What’s this poem called?"

"’Bushi: I Live at the Head of the Bai River.’ I changed a single word in the title. If I left it as the original ’Yangtze,’ how would I explain it? There’s no Yangtze River in this world."

"Huh? What a strange name! What does ’Bushi’ mean?"

"A kind of... tune pattern for lyrics. One I made up myself. But enough about that—Miss Lian Xiang, are you satisfied with this poem?"

"Yes, yes! I’m very satisfied; it’s beautiful and so moving! I think it’s every bit as good as what you gave to Sister Xiuyun. Thank you, Shen Zongqi. Mind if I try playing and singing it myself right now? My fingers are itching to try, hehe."

"I, Shen, am all ears."

A beauty’s song and zither couldn’t be matched by someone half-baked like Shen Hao. The melody drifted, complete with a lovely prelude she had added herself.

"I live at the head of the Bai River, and you at its end.

Day after day, I long for you but cannot see you; yet together we drink the Bai River’s water..."

The same song in Lian Xiang’s hands sounded like the voice of heaven, conjuring scenes in the listener’s mind, as if experiencing the inner turmoil of a lovesick woman firsthand.

When the song was over, applause was only fitting. Jiang Cheng in particular clapped Shen Hao on the shoulder, exclaiming, "To think our Xuanqing Guard, which usually only produces killers, actually turned out a literary man like you. Well, that’s a great thing! You’ll have to make me look good from now on!"

"Whatever you command, my lord."

"Haha, good! More drinks—I’m in high spirits today; let’s keep drinking!"

Wang Jian: "..."

...

The next day, Shen Hao dragged himself out of bed, swaying slightly, and left a silver note by the pillow. He washed up briefly and left Hong’en Hall.

Just at the door, he unexpectedly spotted Wang Jian squatting by the roadside, gloomily gnawing on a roasted sweet potato.

"Got any more? Give me one."

"General Flag?! You’re up this early? Here, there’s still one—still warm."

"You feeling any better?"

"Still have a bit of a headache. That Immortal Brew was supposed to be top-notch—why does it hit so hard? Last night I almost threw up my guts. Luckily I bought roasted sweet potatoes, otherwise I’d be suffering all day."

"Mm, roasted sweet potatoes are good for the stomach after drinking. Let’s go—off to the Thousand Households Station. We still have proper work to do today."

"Yes, General Flag."

The two walked on, gnawing their sweet potatoes as they went. They finished right at the Thousand Households Station gate, brushed the crumbs off their hands, flashed their waist tokens, and headed straight for Households Officer Jiang Cheng’s public office.

...

Ps: "Bushi: I Live at the Head of the Yangtze," author: Li Zhiyi; Song: Teresa Teng’s version