Chapter 409: Ascending the Pavilion

When Duan Rong and Zhu Peng crossed the threshold of Dali Temple, that pockmarked-faced man had already clutched his documents and turned into a corridor.

Duan Rong's gaze shifted, and he suddenly asked Zhu Peng in a casual tone: "That pockmarked-faced man handling the appointments at the entrance, how many years has he been at Dali Temple?"

"Ah!" Zhu Peng was taken aback by Duan Rong's question, thought for a moment, and then replied: "I can't recall exactly. There used to be an old man there, and later it was changed to him; it's been at least four or five years, right?"

Duan Rong said: "Is that so? That's quite a long time!"

Zhu Peng looked at Duan Rong with a strange expression and said: "Why did you suddenly ask about him?"

Duan Rong smiled. "I was just asking."

Although he had discovered that the pockmarked-faced man was the one who shot and killed Zhou Wei, he did not intend to speak of it.

Having uncovered the true cause of death of Secretariat Director Zhu Shizhong and arrested that group of craftsmen, his mission was basically complete. If he dug any deeper and actually arrested that pockmarked-faced man, and then had the person behind him interrogated by Zhu Cheng within the Dungeon of Dali Temple—

The matter would only grow larger and the entanglements deeper. After all, Zhu Cheng and Zhu Peng were of Zhu He's bloodline, so those people still had some reservations, but he himself had no foundation. If things went wrong, he might end up ruining himself.

It was not worth poking this hornet's nest. With the case investigated to this extent, he could basically report back to Zhu He. Next, Duan Rong prepared to slack off and muddle through a few more days; he reckoned that would be enough to get by.

This was the plan he had decided on before coming: it was a matter of degree. He had to be able to report back to Zhu He, but he could not dig too deep into the case. If he stirred up the major forces wrestling behind the scenes to intervene further, he reckoned he wouldn't even have scraps left of him when he died.

And the identity of the pockmarked-faced man was clearly the boundary of this degree.

Any further, and things would likely go wrong.

Duan Rong had already decided to stop right here.

He and Zhu Peng walked into the room where Zhu Cheng worked and found Zhu Cheng buried in a pile of documents on his desk.

When the two walked in, Zhu Cheng raised his head and glanced at them.

When Zhu Cheng looked up from the documents, one could see that both his eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion.

Zhu Peng walked over, pressed his hands down on the desk in front of him, and said: "Stop working. Look at your eyes, they're as red as a rabbit's! Go back and get some rest."

Zhu Cheng swatted his hand away and said: "Get up, I've already finished."

Zhu Cheng took the few documents in his hand, spread them out on the empty table beside Duan Rong, and said: "These are the autopsy report and the preliminary investigation details. See if you two can dig up any leads for the investigation. I can't hold on anymore; I'm going back to sleep."

Although Zhu Cheng said "you two," his eyes were only looking at Duan Rong.

Zhu Peng knew nothing about investigating cases, but he knew that Duan Rong was an expert in the field. He wanted Duan Rong to take a good look at the files; perhaps he could pull a thread together from the scattered information.

Duan Rong glanced at the documents and said: "I'll study them in a while."

Zhu Cheng nodded, picked up the cold tea on the desk, and gulped it all down his throat before striding out the door.

After Zhu Cheng left, Zhu Peng just sat on the grandmaster chair with his legs crossed, using a file to trim his nails.

Duan Rong sat there, flipping through the papers casually. Before long, he suddenly looked up at Zhu Peng and said: "Is there any fun place in Shenyun Prefecture? Take me out for a stroll."

Upon hearing this, Zhu Peng immediately put his crossed legs down and said in surprise: "Right now?"

Even if Duan Rong hadn't asked, once the case was closed, he would have taken Duan Rong out to have a good time and fulfill the duties of a host. But now that the case wasn't finished yet, for Duan Rong to ask him to take him out for a stroll was truly a bit excessive.

Duan Rong, however, said with a face full of justification: "Yes, right now."

Zhu Peng looked at him suspiciously and said: "Didn't we need to take a good look at the files and find some leads?"

"I did look!" Duan Rong said: "However, finding leads requires inspiration. When I'm in a fun place, my inspiration is at its most abundant."

"Is that so?"

"Of course. We aren't going out to play. We are going out to find inspiration for the investigation. Understand?"

Zhu Peng was completely bewildered by Duan Rong's nonsense, but he also wanted to go out and have fun. Since it was Duan Rong's suggestion, he just went along with it; if something happened and Zhu Cheng scolded him, Duan Rong would be the one taking the heat.

Zhu Peng straightened his back and said: "The number one fun place in Shenyun Prefecture is naturally Yanyue Pavilion!"

"Yanyue Pavilion?" Duan Rong's gaze flickered. "Wasn't Li Muping, who died by lightning strike along with Zhu Shizhong, from Yanyue Pavilion?"

"Correct. But this Li Muping was already an outdated courtesan. Just a flower of yesterday, otherwise even the Secretariat Director might not have been able to marry her. The most popular one at Yanyue Pavilion now is Qin Xueyin. There is a saying in Shenyun Prefecture: 'A thousand gold is hard to buy a glimpse of Xue.' It means that even if you spend a thousand taels of gold, it is hard to see Qin Xueyin even once."

Duan Rong sneered and said: "When it comes down to it, isn't she just a whore in a brothel? A thousand taels of gold? With a thousand taels of gold, I could buy Yanyue Pavilion!"

Zhu Peng said: "You really are a country bumpkin. It's just a figure of speech."

"A figure of speech must have a reason, right?" Duan Rong said.

"Of course," Zhu Peng said: "To see this Qin Xueyin, the first hurdle is the poetry competition at the Qin Building!"

"Poetry competition at the Qin Building?"

"Yes! Below Qin Xueyin's embroidery chamber, all the patrons must hand their prepared poems to the maid in advance. After collecting the poems, Qin Xueyin will look through them one by one. Only the selected poems can earn a glimpse of her, and even then, it's through a curtain."

Duan Rong clicked his tongue in wonder and asked: "If the poem is selected, you still see her through a curtain?"

"Yes," Zhu Peng said: "Only if the poem is selected are you qualified to go upstairs. Through chatting and playing the zither, if Qin Xueyin takes a fancy to you, you can stay the night. That is the second hurdle."

Duan Rong laughed: "Sleeping with someone is made out to be like the imperial examinations. You guys sure know how to play!"

Duan Rong suddenly changed the subject and said: "You haven't participated much, have you? Have you ever been selected?"

Zhu Peng's face suddenly turned red, and he said with some discouragement: "I have tried a few times, but those poems couldn't catch Miss Qin's eye."

He had also spent a lot of money to hire people to write poems for him several times, but perhaps his luck was bad, or perhaps he didn't have that fortune; in any case, he had never been selected once.

"Let's go!" Duan Rong suddenly said: "Take me there, I guarantee you'll be able to ascend the Qin Building this time!"

"Really?" Zhu Peng was overjoyed.

But his bright eyes quickly dimmed; Duan Rong was clearly bragging.

A country bumpkin from the Southeast Four Prefectures—he might be good at investigating cases, but poetry! No matter how one looked at him, he didn't seem like someone who could write poetry.

Regardless of whether Duan Rong was bragging or not, Zhu Peng still brought Duan Rong to Yanyue Pavilion.

This place was, after all, the liveliest and most charming spot in Shenyun Prefecture.

Yanyue Pavilion was located on Changle Street, by the banks of the Dan River, and the most bustling place was where the Qin Building stood.

Countless admirers were crowding there, waiting for Qin Xueyin's maid to come and collect the poems, and many poor scholars were also peddling their own poems in front of the building.

Although buying someone else's poem might lead to being exposed as soon as they started chatting, passing the first hurdle meant that at least they could see Qin Xueyin through a curtain. Just that alone was enough for them to brag to their drinking buddies for a year.

When Duan Rong and Zhu Peng hurried over, they saw that the maid collecting the poems had already come downstairs.

As soon as Zhu Peng saw the situation, he said: "Well, today was a wasted trip; we're already too late!"

Duan Rong: "Late? I think it's just right!"

As Duan Rong spoke, he walked to the stall of a scholar nearby, picked up a brush, and began to write.

He first wrote "Early Departure from Shang Mountain" for Zhu Peng.

This poem was Wen Tingyun's best work; it was almost a masterpiece he had stumbled upon, a performance beyond his usual standard.

After Duan Rong finished writing, he looked up and saw that the maid collecting the poetry manuscripts had already reached the middle of the stairs. His gaze shifted, and he immediately wrote a short, murderous poem for himself: "Singing generously in the Yan market, calmly acting as a prisoner of Chu. Drawing my blade to make a quick end, I shall not betray my youthful head."

After Duan Rong finished writing, he couldn't help but smile. The man who wrote this impassioned, murderous poem eventually became a traitor who sold out his country for glory during a time of national peril. Is what we call poetry not just a joke?

Seeing that the maid had already reached the end of the line, Duan Rong immediately handed over the last poetry manuscript.

The manuscript in Zhu Peng's hand was handed over after Duan Rong's.

The maid had already gone upstairs with a large stack of manuscripts, while Zhu Peng was still there muttering to himself.

Although Zhu Peng did not know much about poetry, he could still savor some of the flavor of the "Early Departure from Shang Mountain" that Duan Rong had hurriedly written for him: "Morning movement stirs the horse bells, the traveler laments his hometown. Rooster calls at the thatched inn under the moon, human footprints on the frost of the wooden bridge. The oak leaves fall on the mountain road, the trifoliate orange blossoms brighten the post-house wall. Because of this, I think of my dreams of Duling, where wild ducks fill the winding pond."

He did not quite understand the meaning of some of the lines, but the tonal patterns and rhymes were clearly harmonious and elegant, and certainly not some low-class, situational drivel.

Above the Embroidery Pavilion, Qin Xueyin sat lazily at a desk wearing a veil, flipping through the poetry manuscripts listlessly. As she flipped through them, a faint anger appeared on her fair face.

"Nothing but hypocritical, pretentious works of feigned illness!"

"Nonsense! Gibberish and babble!"

Seeing that she was about to finish reading the manuscripts, Qin Xueyin thought that today would be another day with no one ascending the pavilion.

"Is there truly not a single person of genuine talent and learning within this Shenyun Prefecture?"

Just then, she saw the last two poetry manuscripts.

She had only read them once when her eyes lit up.

Afterwards, she placed the two manuscripts side by side on the desk, liking them more the longer she looked.

Below the Qin Pavilion, it was packed with admirers, among whom were many who had spent a great deal of money and effort, all for the sake of ascending the Qin Pavilion to catch a glimpse of Qin Xueyin's face.

About half an incense stick of time later, the maid who had collected the manuscripts suddenly walked out of the Embroidery Pavilion and called out in a sweet voice at the top of the stairs: "Those ascending the pavilion today: Duan Rong, Zhu Peng!"

Zhu Peng was stunned upon hearing this. He felt the poem Duan Rong had written was decent, but at most, it was on par with what he had obtained from those other scholars. How could it possibly ascend the Qin Pavilion and enter the discerning eyes of Qin Xueyin?

Could it be luck?

No! Duan Rong himself was also able to ascend the pavilion; if it were merely luck, how could both poems he wrote have been selected?

Zhu Peng turned his head, stared blankly at Duan Rong, and said: "Brother Duan is truly a man of wonders!"

Duan Rong laughed: "Let's go, up we go!"

Zhu Peng looked at Qin Xueyin's personal maid standing at the top of the stairs with shining eyes and couldn't help but drool; this was his first time ascending the pavilion.

The two pushed through the crowd gathered at the stairs and, under the jealous and envious gazes of the masses, ascended the Qin Pavilion and stepped into Qin Xueyin's boudoir.

After Duan Rong and Zhu Peng entered, the maid closed the door of the Embroidery Pavilion.

The crowd of rejected admirers was suddenly greatly disappointed.

"Isn't that guy Zhu Peng? The one from the Privy Council, he can write poetry? Go find out which scholar he got that poem from, and get one for me too."

"Sigh, wait. Was there someone named Duan Rong just now? Have you heard of him?"

"Never heard of him."

"Isn't the one who summoned heavenly thunder at the Wild Lake outside the city named Duan Rong?"

"Yes!"

"You mean the one who just ascended the pavilion is the 'Thunder God Duan'? How is that possible? Isn't he investigating a case at the Dali Temple? How could he have time to come to the Yanyue Pavilion?"

Outside the pavilion, the voices of the crowd dispersed.

Inside the boudoir of the Embroidery Pavilion, Qin Xueyin played a tune for Duan Rong and Zhu Peng on a zither platform behind a lowered curtain.

Zhu Peng stared blankly at Qin Xueyin behind the curtain wearing her veil; although he could not see her true face, he could still feel the graceful bearing and pure, elegant temperament faintly emanating from her.

After Qin Xueyin finished playing the tune, she felt slightly tired. She had caught a slight cold a few days ago and had only just recovered; her body was still very lethargic. If she hadn't been very pleased with those two poems, she would not have played the zither.

Qin Xueyin waved her hand slightly, and two maids rolled up the bamboo curtain.

Qin Xueyin's face under the light veil was faintly visible.

This was already her greatest sincerity.

Zhu Peng's heart was even more delighted; this trip was almost equivalent to seeing half of Qin Xueyin's true face!

Qin Xueyin's gaze swept over Duan Rong and Zhu Peng, saying: "The poems of the two gentlemen are the best poems I have read in these two years; they truly leave a fragrance on the lips and teeth!"

"Although this poem by Master Duan is only twenty characters long, it is like a dagger or a short spear, fierce and stirring! One who can write such a poem must be a true man, a true hero!"

Duan Rong smiled slightly, picked up the cup of wine in front of him, drank it in one gulp, and said: "Actually, this poem was written by a fellow villager of mine!"

"Oh?" Qin Xueyin smiled lightly and said: "Master is quite honest."

In fact, there were more than one or two people who borrowed others' poems to ascend the pavilion, which was why there was this talk of chatting over the zither; she wanted to see the quality, whether it was genuine talent or not, and she could tell within two or three sentences.

Duan Rong said: "Does the young lady want to know what kind of person my fellow villager is?"

Qin Xueyin said: "I would like to hear the details."

Duan Rong said: "He was indeed a righteous man in his early years, just as written in the poem. But later, he became a traitor who sold out his friends for glory and forgot his roots. I would like to ask the young lady: can a person's heart truly be seen in their poetry?"

Duan Rong's question was like a thorn, pricking Qin Xueyin.

Her poetry competition at the Qin Pavilion was based on the belief that poetry expresses one's intent and reveals one's nature. If a person's heart could not be seen in their poetry, wouldn't the grand display she had set up be a joke of pretentious affectation? Duan Rong's question was exposing her weakness.

Qin Xueyin braced herself and said: "I firmly believe that a person's heart can be seen in their poetry."

"Is that so?" Duan Rong looked at her with a smile.

Qin Xueyin sighed and said: "It is just a pity that people's hearts are easily changed. I firmly believe that when that fellow villager of yours wrote this poem, he had the heart of a sincere, righteous man. Without this heart, he could not have written this poem. However, the world is desolate, and people's hearts change! That traitor who sold out his friends for glory and forgot his roots is no longer the righteous man of that year, and he could never write such a poem!"

Upon hearing this, Duan Rong was slightly astonished. Her insight into the relationship between poetry and the human heart made him want to applaud! "Young lady, your argument is truly insightful! I have learned much!"

Qin Xueyin not only spoke well, but Duan Rong even faintly felt that what she had stated might be the truth hidden in the dust of history.

People's hearts are easily changed indeed!

(End of chapter)