Chapter 97: Good Winds Carry Me to the Azure Clouds

By the time dusk began to settle, all those who had come to offer congratulations had departed.

A small feast was set up in Tan Chun’s chamber, and Dai Yu, Ying Chun, Shi Xiangyun, and Xi Chun all attended.

Of course, Bao Yu could not be absent—he had been unwilling to come.

Jia Cong had spent two years studying at the academy, reading the rotting texts of corrupt officials and greedy ghosts, and yet he had passed the preliminary exam—something that made Bao Yu utterly furious.

Though he deeply disliked Jia Cong for his obsession with officialdom, since all his sisters had gone, and especially because Lin Meimei was going, he reluctantly went along.

Tan Chun knew that her sister-in-law favored Jia Lan for being close to Third Brother Cong, who loved reading; now that Third Brother had topped the exam, she suspected her sister-in-law would be even more pleased.

So she sent Shishu to invite Li Gongcai and Jia Lan to join.

Jia Cong, knowing his sisters planned to host a feast in his honor, sent Wu’er to the kitchen in advance to prepare thirty trays of fruits and delicacies, along with a small jar of fruit wine.

When lanterns were lit, Shishu, Cuimo, and others hung six palace lanterns and lit the candles on the candlestands one by one; the room glowed brightly with light.

Tan Chun laughed and said, “I heard there were three or four thousand candidates in the academy exam, yet Third Brother came out on top—could it be that the Literary Star has truly descended from heaven?”

Dai Yu, her cheeks slightly flushed, also raised her cup and urged Jia Cong to take a sip.

Jia Cong smiled and said, “Third Sister overstates it. Passing the exam requires both solid study and good fortune—I’ve simply been luckier than others.”

The sisters clapped and cheered; Jia Cong, unembarrassed, took a sip from Tan Chun’s cup.

At the feast, the sisters told stories of their private lives and asked him to recount his experiences at Qingshan Academy.

Jia Cong poured more wine and toasted Ying Chun and Li Wan, since both were older than him; then he drank another cup with the sisters, and the banquet grew lively.

Next came Ying Chun, smiling warmly—her younger brother had become so accomplished, passing the exam on his very first attempt and taking top honors; her heart swelled with joy, and she made Jia Cong drink half her cup from her hand.

Li Gongcai smiled at Jia Lan and said, “Lan’er, remember this day—when you grow up, study hard like Third Uncle Cong and win glory in your youth.”

Xi Chun’s turn was more amusing—she was only slightly older than Jia Lan, still childlike, and had to stand on the kang to feed Jia Cong his wine, causing the sisters to burst into laughter.

Tan Chun laughed and said, “Lin Meimei is right—these past two years, Third Brother hasn’t written a single new poem. Now that you’ve taken top honors, you must compose a poem to express your aspirations.”

Shi Xiangyun, bold and spirited, drank directly from Jia Cong’s cup and then poured herself another to toast, no wonder she would later be known for sleeping drunkenly among the crabapple blossoms.

Jia Lan was still a child and didn’t fully understand his mother’s words, but he was always obedient and nodded vaguely in agreement.

Jia Cong was startled—he had thoroughly studied the Four Books and Five Classics these past years, his mind fixed entirely on the imperial exams, and the Zhou dynasty’s exams did not include verse composition.

“Third Brother is too modest. This cup is to you, Third Brother—I wish you a swift place on the imperial list.”

Jia Cong immediately raised his cup, but Tan Chun laughed and stopped him: “The Jia family has never had a top scorer—today, the Jia Top Scorer is honored; this first cup must be taken from my hand, to celebrate your triumph.”

Dai Yu suddenly said, “Years ago, Third Brother wrote that ‘Bu Yun Suan Yuan’—it spread throughout the capital—but since then, you’ve produced nothing new. Are you hiding your talent, keeping your best work hidden from us?”

Seeing Dai Yu and Tan Chun so eager, and Ying Chun, Li Wan, even little Xi Chun also watching expectantly, Jia Cong didn’t want to dampen their spirits.

This scene made Bao Yu ache inside—now all the sisters favored Jia Cong, and he was becoming a lonely ghost.

The small feast lasted nearly two hours, until the wine was gone and the dishes finished.

These past two years, to focus on his studies, he had avoided drawing attention and stopped writing poetry altogether.

Jia Cong sighed inwardly—Li Gongcai was too heavy-handed in her teaching; her son was barely taller than a stool, yet she already burdened him with such weighty expectations—this child’s life would surely be dull and hard.

Besides, with the brocade of thoughts in his heart, ordinary poems held no appeal; to force himself to write them would be nothing but a clumsy imitation.

He went to Tan Chun’s desk, took paper, ground ink, and picked up his brush.

Linjiang Immortal: Willow Catkins

Before the jade hall, spring dances, the east wind sweeps them evenly. Bees and butterflies swirl in chaotic clusters. Have they ever followed the flowing water? Must they fall into fragrant dust?

Ten thousand threads, a thousand strands—unchanged, let them gather or scatter as they will. Do not laugh at youth for having no roots—good winds lend their strength, carrying me to the azure clouds.

Dai Yu, Tan Chun, and the others saw he wrote without hesitation; each face showed astonishment—was Third Brother a genius of unmatched talent, or had he prepared this long ago, writing without a single thought?

When Jia Cong finished, Dai Yu and Tan Chun gathered around to recite it aloud, feeling the poem seeped into their hearts, perfectly attuned.

Do not laugh at youth for having no roots—good winds lend their strength, carrying me to the azure clouds.

Truly fitting—it was precisely Third Brother’s own story of years of diligent effort.

Jia Cong sighed inwardly: Cao Gong, forgive me.

Those lines in the poem mirrored his own circumstances these past years—they were apt.

…

The next morning, the Baoling Marquis’s mansion, the Zhongjing Marquis’s mansion, and other noble households friendly to the Jia family all sent emissaries to offer congratulations.

Jia Cong had planned to return to Luocang Mountain after a few days at the Jia residence, but now as the honored guest, he had to receive many visitors of wealth and rank.

Thus, his return to the mountain was postponed.

Of course, there were things he didn’t know—Baoling Marquis had not come himself, but his wife, Lady Chen.

She even mentioned Shi Xiangyun’s marriage prospects to Jia Mu.

Shi Xiangyun had lost both parents in childhood and was raised by the second branch of the Shi family.

Marquis Shi Nai was mediocre; the Marquis mansion had enjoyed wealth for decades, but Shi Nai was inept at management, and the household now shone only on the surface.

Shi Xiangyun, orphaned, would face difficulties in marriage; yet as the eldest daughter of the main Shi household, she could never marry beneath her station.

Though Shi Xiangyun was still young, Lady Chen had already begun worrying—though not her own daughter, she had raised her since childhood.

Though she made her do needlework to help with expenses, she still cherished her deeply.

A few days ago, Lady Chen had seen Jia Cong in Rongqing Hall—his peerless beauty had left her unforgettable; such a remarkable young man, had he not been of humble birth, would have had suitors pounding at the door.

These past days, she heard he had topped the Yongzhou academy exam—this was even more extraordinary; and recalling how Jia Cong had responded in Rongqing Hall, he was clearly someone who could uphold the family.

Though Shi Xiangyun had once been raised by her aunt, and had grown up with Bao Yu, Bao Yu was the phoenix heir of Rongguo Mansion; with Shi Xiangyun’s orphaned status, there was no hope there.

But with Jia Cong, it was different—his humble birth balanced her disadvantage.

Had he not been of such low origin, such talent and beauty would have been snatched up long ago; thus, she began to entertain thoughts.

But the moment she hinted at it, Jia Mu said Xiangyun was still too young, and there was time in a few years—her tone made it clear she disapproved of Jia Cong.

Lady Chen was puzzled—such an outstanding grandson, other families would clamor for him, yet Auntie showed no interest; she had no choice but to set the matter aside for now.

…

Bao Yu went to Tan Chun’s chamber to attend Jia Cong’s celebration feast, but returned in low spirits.

He felt everything in the mansion had changed—though when it began, he couldn’t say, it was after Jia Cong moved to the West Mansion.

That man not only looked outstanding, but could write brilliant poetry and win the sisters’ favor.

He went to the academy to study those rotting texts of corrupt officials—he had always looked down on them, yet now he returned with top honors from those very books.

Now the whole world was congratulating him, and even Lin Meimei looked at him differently.

Meanwhile, I, a pure soul unwilling to sink, have become a lonely ghost ignored by all.

Wang Lady saw Bao Yu distracted and asked—only to learn that the sisters had hosted a feast for Jia Cong’s success and invited Bao Yu, yet he returned in this state.

Who knows a son better than his mother? Wang Lady knew exactly why he was so upset—her son, born with a jade in his mouth, had once been so noble and precious, yet now he suffered such petty slights.

Her heart filled again with bitterness and resentment—if this continued, wouldn’t the very sky of the Jia mansion change?

(End of Chapter)