[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-a-literary-genius-in-the-song-dynasty":3,"chapter-a-literary-genius-in-the-song-dynasty-a-literary-genius-in-the-song-dynasty-chapter-22":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","A Literary Genius in the Song Dynasty",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2336405,4568,"Chapter 22: Zhou Mingyuan","a-literary-genius-in-the-song-dynasty-chapter-22",22,"\u003Cp>At this moment, Lu Zongde suddenly felt some regret—he shouldn’t have pressured them so hard to seize their family property.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although he held the largest share of these debts, even if the house and land were seized and sold, the profit wouldn’t belong to him alone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But after all this, Lu Beigu might not hate the others—he would surely hate him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the man truly becomes a high official, will he spare him?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this moment, Zhou Mingyuan seemed to suddenly realize and asked, “Oh? What are you all doing at Lu’s doorstep? Are you here too, to deliver festival gifts?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nothing, nothing at all.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Zongde’s mind was in turmoil; seeing Zhou’s Young Master here, he knew the signed and sealed guarantee could never be reclaimed—he could only settle for retrieving his loan and interest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Both sides exchanged money for the IOUs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After retrieving the IOUs, Lu Beigu handed them to Pei Yan for safekeeping; the creditors divided the money and dispersed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crows on the elm tree at the alley’s mouth had watched the spectacle for a long while; finding it dull, they flapped their wings and flew away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thank you, Young Master Zhou.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was nothing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Mingyuan had his servant place the gifts in the courtyard, then said, “Oh, by the way, besides my father instructing me to deliver festival gifts, I have another matter. In the various prefectures of Shu, there are customary traditions—when welcoming a new classmate, they often organize elegant gatherings like flowing cup poetry contests.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Beigu was half-amused, half-exasperated: “Young Master Zhou is so certain I’ll pass the Luzhou Prefectural Academy entrance?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“With your talent, entering the prefectural academy is a foregone conclusion.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Mingyuan hesitated, then revealed his true purpose: “These gatherings rotate among us; this year, Luzhou is hosting. I hear they’ll invite distinguished scholars from Meizhou, Rongzhou, and Jiazhou prefectural academies. We’ll need to prepare poetry and verse—and I’d be grateful if you’d help polish them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Beigu knew Zhou Mingyuan excelled in ink tests and classical texts, his policy essays were solid but unremarkable, and his poetry and prose were truly mediocre.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth, who among those admitted to prefectural academies—or who passed the provincial exams—had weak scholarship?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But those lacking skill in poetry and verse would inevitably feel awkward in such social settings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Lu Beigu instantly understood his intent and nodded: “That’s easily done.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though Lu Beigu himself wasn’t particularly skilled in poetry and verse, given time, his progress would be swift—by the time the prefectural academy gathering occurred, at least three months from now, his level would suffice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for plagiarism, Lu Beigu would never resort to it unless absolutely desperate or utterly without ideas.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One reason was that he believed plagiarism wasn’t true ability—only writing oneself counted as real talent; another was that if he didn’t understand the craft himself, could he plagiarize forever?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The yet-unpublished “Poem of the Child Prodigy” says well: “Learning comes from diligence; through firefly-lit windows, ten thousand scrolls are read. Three winters suffice—who mocks an empty belly?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Beigu firmly believed that knowledge gained through diligent study could never be taken from him—and would never run out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Upon receiving his agreement, Zhou Mingyuan’s face brightened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then I won’t keep you any longer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the carriage bells faded into distance, Pei Yan, who had been tense moments before, immediately barred the courtyard gate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She pressed her back against the door, patting her chest where her heart pounded wildly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A morning breeze scattered a few peach petals, clinging to her damp temples like faded rouge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sister-in-law?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Is it really…?” Her throat moved twice; her voice was barely audible, “Over?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Over. No one will trouble us again.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Yan finally exhaled deeply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Beigu turned his head; Doufu had somehow leapt onto the stone table and was stealthily licking the crumbs from the food box with his pink tongue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His whiskers glistened with tiny fragments; realizing he’d been caught, he knew he was in the wrong and dared not move—instead, he immediately rolled onto his back, exposing his belly in a show of stubbornness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Lu Beigu lifted him by the nape, he still let out an unsatisfied “meow.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Mother! Can we eat too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With everyone gone, Lu Yuchi led her younger brother Lu Yanxi out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The child’s innocent question dispelled the heaviness; Pei Yan wiped her face, stood, and picked a “Zitui Swallow” from the food box, handing it over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Eat slowly with your brother—don’t choke.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her fingers brushed the gilded vine patterns along the box’s edge, yet she felt unreal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the morning’s turmoil, the whole family was hungry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Yan brought out the prepared cold food porridge; in the coarse ceramic bowl, white porridge floated with tender elm seeds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Beigu lifted the stack of food boxes beside it; the top box revealed neatly arranged “Snowy Cream”—a dessert of glutinous rice and goat’s milk, frozen and prone to melting, preserved only in boxes lined with ice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Below lay a box of translucent “Crystal Slices”—a jelly made from fish broth, chilled and sliced, trembling faintly like early spring lake ice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I haven’t eaten these in years.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Yan fell into a daze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Looking at the distant mist, Lu Beigu was moved to speak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He softly recited the Tang poet Han Hong’s “Cold Food Festival”: “Spring city blooms everywhere, flowers fly; cold food winds tilt the palace willows.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“At dusk, the Han palace passes candlelight; light smoke drifts into the homes of five marquises.” Pei Yan’s voice faded, “In Kaifeng, on the final evening of Cold Food, the court would send eunuchs to bestow new fire upon ministers.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Beigu’s expression shifted; he ventured cautiously, “Sister-in-law, you’ve never told me—why did our family move from Kaifeng back to our hometown?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Yan lowered her head, lips pressed tight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the courtyard gate was knocked on again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Who is it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Miss Pei, it’s old me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Yan opened the gate; Aunt Wang entered, basket in hand, smiling broadly, her eyes darting everywhere.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her gaze flickered between the Snowy Cream and Crystal Slices; she clicked her tongue twice: “I say, Lu’s young master should’ve passed the provincial exam long ago—and you, Miss Pei, hiding such a literary star, made me worry for nothing…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What brings you here, Aunt Wang?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, nothing important—just bringing you something.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Aunt Wang reluctantly placed her basket of locust leaves on the stone table; the willow-shaped silver hairpin at her temple tinkled softly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Eating locust leaves during Cold Food clears the five organs’ toxins—use them to make cold noodles.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Saying this, she left reluctantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“She came fearing I’d hold a grudge,” Lu Beigu scoffed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s just the nature of common folk—trampling the low, fawning on the high. No need to take it to heart; it only makes life exhausting.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Yan shook her head and placed the locust leaves beneath the tree.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After eating, the four of them stepped out together; in the Song dynasty, Cold Food Festival and Qingming Festival were indistinct, yet Cold Food carried far greater weight—so the day before was always for tomb-sweeping.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this hour, Gulin Town lay shrouded in hazy morning mist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By custom, fire was forbidden for three days; every household displayed pre-made wheat cakes and ring-shaped pastries at their doors, with willow branches stuck into date cakes above the lintel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But during Cold Food, paper money could not be burned—it must be hung on trees near the graves, known as “split money.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Beigu first helped Pei Yan clear the weeds around his parents’ and elder brother’s graves, then arranged the cold food offerings before them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A strong wind swept through; the split money rose like a sudden flock of startled gray butterflies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two children understood, yet didn’t fully understand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They still didn’t grasp how terrifying death’s separation was; watching the fluttering paper money, they felt no sorrow—only stared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Beigu’s policy essay received Class A-Middle,” Pei Yan poured a cup of cloudy wine and spilled it before the grave; her voice was barely audible, “The county magistrate holds him in high regard…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beneath the tree roots, clusters of new rush grass swayed gently in the wind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This rush grass was extraordinarily resilient—even if crushed into mud, a single rain would bring forth new shoots.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>——————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>① Locust leaf cold noodles, a traditional cold dish originating in the Tang dynasty, made by mixing flour with water infused with locust leaves, cut into shapes like cakes, strips, or threads, boiled, rinsed in cold water, and served. Originally a court delicacy, recorded in the “Six Institutes of Tang” as “the Director of Imperial Kitchens provided locust leaf cold noodles in summer for all officials of ninth rank and above during court assemblies and banquets.” By the Song dynasty, it had become a popular summer treat; regional variations emerged, using chrysanthemum juice instead of locust leaves, or adding mandarin fish, perch, or shrimp as toppings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1487,"2026-06-20T21:44:14.864Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","1712f73fbbdf0f29a67a0fbf1ee2ec0633fc4d732fb7d4bdd31a9307f519e719","a-literary-genius-in-the-song-dynasty-chapter-23","a-literary-genius-in-the-song-dynasty-chapter-21",56,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fa-literary-genius-in-the-song-dynasty-cover.jpg"]