Chapter 128: Selecting Poems

The Double Ninth Festival arrived, with crisp autumn air and a clear, high sky.

In the afternoon, Adjutant Moqi Xie of the Privy Council was ordered to go meet His Majesty, but before he could even leave the camp, a colleague, Hu Hongxiu, caught up to travel with him. Upon asking, he learned that what Lu Yihao, Lord Lu, had predicted earlier had come true—when Nanjing fell and news reached the southeast, Li Gang, Lord Li, immediately dispatched the rear army of the Imperial Camp to the front lines, but before the troops could cross the river, a mutiny broke out. Commander Wang Yi broke away from command, forcibly occupied Jiangning Prefecture, and let his soldiers loot freely. Li Gang had no choice but to first try to suppress the rebellion.

The news had just arrived by fast horse, but what the situation was now remained unknown.

This kind of bad news, like the earlier siege of Dongjing, was something they had mentally prepared for, but when it actually came, it still left one feeling helpless. Moqi Xie and Hu Hongxiu discussed it, both unable to hide their worry, yet they quickened their pace, intending to report it to His Majesty as soon as possible.

However, when the two dutifully arrived at Mount Yushan, they did not find His Majesty in a state of concern for the nation as Lord Wang, the Privy Council Director, had hinted. On the contrary, His Majesty was dressed in casual clothes without a hat, indulging in pleasure at the mountaintop. On his left was a favored consort in military attire, on his right a literary official raising a cup in toast, and even his trusted generals sat with bent backs and helmets removed, utterly without protocol.

Borrowing a famous line from the Tang poet Gao Shi, one might say, "Before the lines, soldiers fight half dead; beneath the tent, beauties still sing and dance," and it would not be inappropriate.

Seeing this, Hu Hongxiu felt stifled and was about to step forward to remonstrate, but Moqi Xie reached out and pulled him back.

His Majesty Zhao Jiu, sitting cross-legged on the mountaintop, saw the two and was slightly startled, but then smiled and said, "Lords Moqi and Hu, do you have business here? Has Lord Wang or Lord Lu sent you with a reminder, or is there some military intelligence?"

"Reporting to Your Majesty," Moqi Xie quickly set aside his thoughts before Hu Hongxiu could speak, straightened his expression, and clasped his hands. "I was indeed sent by Lord Wang, but not to urge you—only to attend you. As for Adjutant Hu, he came to inform Your Majesty that Commander Wang Yi of the rear army of the Imperial Camp in the southeast disobeyed orders, occupied Jiangning Prefecture, and looted without restraint—just as Lord Lu predicted."

His Majesty Zhao Jiu, holding a wine cup, paused for a moment before slowly nodding: "I understand. This was expected, so ignore it for now... Since you two are here, it's perfect timing. Sit and drink with us."

Adjutant Moqi, who had just silently criticized His Majesty, naturally did not object. He immediately thanked His Majesty, straightened his attire, then stepped forward to sit carefully alongside Liu Yan, and after the attendant presented a wine cup, he took the initiative to hold the flagon.

Hu Hongxiu, however, was thrown into confusion by Moqi Xie's actions. He hurriedly followed but ended up in an awkward position, feeling embarrassed.

"We were discussing Double Ninth poems and lyrics," His Majesty said after accepting a cup of wine from Moqi Xie. "Both of you are graduates of the Imperial Academy, and Lord Moqi even served as a professor. So even though you were appointed through the provisional palace examination in the temporary capital, you should be skilled in literature. Let's hear what you have to say."

Hearing His Majesty use 'I' instead of 'We,' Moqi Xie, who had just poured a cup of wine, grew even more spirited. Suppressing his excitement, he poured a cup for everyone at the table except Lady Wu, who was specifically holding the flagon, before speaking: "May I ask how Your Majesty, Lady Wu, Academician Lin, and Commander Liu were discussing it before?"

"Just random talk," Zhao Jiu said, pointing casually at the people beside him. "I'm an unlearned man. This Lady Wu is said to be skilled in both letters and martial arts and has read quite a bit, but at her age, how many years could she have studied? It's nothing more than Academician Lin and Pingfu (Liu Yan's courtesy name), both jinshi degree holders with good memories, reciting some Double Ninth poems while I offer my poor critiques. She brought a copy of *A Scattered Collection of Tang Poems* and flips through it randomly... Just now, we were discussing the best Double Ninth poem. What do you two think? Which poem is the finest for the Double Ninth? And which lyric is the best?"

The claim that Lady Wu hadn't read many books and had brought one today to cram was probably true, but if Moqi Xie believed His Majesty's claim of being 'unlearned,' he would be a fool.

In fact, in Moqi Xie's view, if His Majesty, who often referenced 'the old works of the Lady of Ease,' was considered unlearned, then there were few in the world who could be called learned in poetry... One could only say that the Retired Emperor, the Daoist Lord, had left such a deep impression of being overly learned that this new emperor, who had inherited at least half of his ability, clearly harbored dissatisfaction with him and did not wish to show too many similarities, deliberately hiding it.

It was just unfortunate for the Lady of Ease and her husband, both nearly fifty, that in their old age, they had to deal with this capricious emperor, causing discord between the couple.

Returning to the present, as His Majesty Zhao Jiu had said, Moqi Xie was indeed a cultured man with real learning, and being older, he far surpassed Hu Hongxiu, who was more fond of swords and staves.

Thus, amid his wandering thoughts, he had already come up with something.

"Your Majesty, if I may be so bold... when it comes to poetry, one must look to the Tang poems," Moqi Xie said, glancing at Hu Hongxiu, who was still thinking, then slightly straightening his expression and speaking freely. "As the saying goes, 'Alone, a stranger in a foreign land, I doubly miss my kin on every festive day. Far away, I know my brothers climb the heights, and one is missing from the dogwood spray.' Wang Wei wrote this poem at seventeen, capturing the feelings of countless wanderers. It can be called the foremost of Double Ninth poems."

At these words, Liu Yan and Lady Wu both laughed, while Hu Hongxiu also nodded in realization.

As for Zhao Jiu, he also slowly nodded: "Lord Moqi speaks well, and it matches our earlier discussion. Grand Academician Su said that Wang Wei's paintings contain poetry and his poems contain paintings. This poem, written by Wang Wei at seventeen, already has both spirit and form. The poetic meaning is layered, yet the opening is simple. The key is that the longing for home it describes is something everyone can feel, so it has been widely circulated and is enough to overshadow other Double Ninth poems and claim the top spot... What about the Double Ninth lyric?"

Moqi Xie naturally first echoed His Majesty's brilliant remarks, then paused briefly before speaking again: "As for the Double Ninth lyric... lyrics are a separate form of poetry, which only flourished in our dynasty. Although there are a few Double Ninth lyrics, they are only by famous poets of our time. But as I think casually, I only recall the Lady of Ease's line, 'The west wind rolls up the curtain, and I am thinner than the yellow flowers.'"

At these words, everyone except the young Academician Lin laughed, including His Majesty Zhao Jiu. Even Hu Hongxiu gradually got into the mood and let out a slight, awkward laugh.

After laughing, His Majesty Zhao Jiu nodded again: "Indeed. Although this lyric is a boudoir lament, merely touching on the Double Ninth, it is exquisitely written. With just this one line, not to mention Double Ninth lyrics, it surpasses countless boudoir laments and poems from ancient times... In fact, as Academician Lin just discussed, even the Lady of Ease's own *A Twig of Plum Blossoms* can only compete as a whole; this single line outshines it."

"Your Majesty speaks truly," Moqi Xie also laughed. "It seems I am again in agreement with Your Majesty, Lady Wu, Academician Lin, and Commander Liu."

"Some say that after the unparalleled brilliance of Ouyang Xiu, Wang Anshi, and Su Shi's generation, our dynasty's literary elegance ended twenty years ago, and from then on, poetry and lyrics were left to people like Ye Mengde," His Majesty Zhao Jiu, perhaps tipsy from wine, spoke more than usual today and continued with a smile. "Isn't that a joke? How can one pretend not to see the Lady of Ease just because she is a woman? This person may well be compared to those greats in the future. I just wonder where the situation in the realm will go from here? Whether those who should follow the Lady of Ease can still emerge, and if they do, whether they can still write lines like 'trimming the lamp, watching the sword'..."

Moqi Xie and Hu Hongxiu found these words baffling.

First, instinctively, neither thought a woman like the Lady of Ease, with just a few poems, could be compared to Ouyang Xiu, Wang Anshi, and Su Shi—even with the emperor's endorsement. Second, they simply didn't understand the rest of His Majesty's words. What did he mean by 'those who should follow the Lady of Ease'? As if someone was sure to step forward and continue the lineage of Ouyang Xiu, Wang Anshi, Su Shi, and the Lady of Ease... And what was this 'trimming the lamp, watching the sword'?

It seemed His Majesty was truly drunk.

"Lord Moqi has spoken his view. What does Lord Hu say?" His Majesty Zhao Jiu took a cup of wine from Lady Wu, who was wearing leather arm guards, and continued to ask, cup in hand.

"I have nothing to say," Hu Hongxiu replied. He had refrained from remonstrating directly only because the nation was in peril and he needed to preserve himself for future use—how could he join in the discussion?

"Both poetry and lyrics are agreed upon. It seems the finest Double Ninth poem and lyric have been decided," His Majesty Zhao Jiu drained his cup and clapped his hands. "But these two pieces, placed here on Mount Yushan, at this time of war between two nations, are somewhat out of place..."

Wasn't that obvious?

Moqi Xie and Hu Hongxiu almost silently sneered in their hearts.

Hu Hongxiu didn't think much of it, but Moqi Xie, upon careful reflection, broke out in a cold sweat—the Lady of Ease's boudoir lament was excellent, but it was inevitably out of place, and 'one is missing from the dogwood spray,' spoken before His Majesty himself, was not just out of place but a deadly remark!

'Far away, I know my brothers climb the heights, and one is missing from the dogwood spray'... More like 'Far away, I know my brothers live in a cellar, looking at the sky from a well, and one is missing,' wasn't it?

No, there was also the Prince of Xin at Mount Wuma, whose authenticity was uncertain—perhaps it was 'two are missing.' And no wonder the deeply calculating young Academician Lin had never shown a smile. It wasn't that he didn't know how to flatter, but that he had his own considerations.

As he was thinking, His Majesty Zhao Jiu posed another question: "Before you two arrived, we were about to discuss a poem, regardless of subject, that would fit the current situation, but we haven't found one yet. Why don't you two try to think of one..."

Moqi Xie naturally dared not be negligent, but his mind was now more alert, and he responded cautiously to avoid another joke about 'remembering the brothers in Wuguocheng':

"Your Majesty, may I ask if you and the three others had any ideas before?"

"No," Zhao Jiu replied bluntly after draining his cup, but then he pulled out a copy of *A Scattered Collection of Tang Poems* from somewhere behind him and tossed it beside the two newcomers. "We thought of a few at first, but none fit. I was about to flip through Lady Wu's book. You can look through it too..."

Hu Hongxiu reached out and took it to look.

Moqi Xie, however, found it amusing—an Imperial Academy graduate needing to look up poems in a book?

But he dared not show any of his thoughts on his face. So, holding his cup, he racked his brains and soon thought of one that barely fit the occasion.

"Your Majesty," Moqi Xie said with a straight face. "Li Bai has a poem, *Climbing on the Ninth Day at Baling, Drinking and Watching the Dongting Navy*. Today, Your Majesty climbs Mount Yushan. Though you see no navy, you can fully survey the Yushan camp! As the poem says, 'Singing loudly stirs the brave, enough to shatter the demonic aura.' Isn't that fitting?"

Everyone pondered, unable to say whether it was good or bad... First, this Double Ninth poem rarely mentioned wartime and the military, with an encouraging tone, seeming quite fitting. But at the same time, most of the poem explicitly describes warships and naval victories, so forcing it to apply to the camp below was a bit of a stretch.

"What do you all think?" After Moqi Xie recited the full poem again, His Majesty Zhao Jiu pointed at each person in turn and asked.

"I think it's acceptable," Lady Wu said, using a commoner's form of address.

"I think it's unsuitable," Liu Yan, who was usually taciturn, finally spoke, directly waving his hand.

"I also think it's unsuitable," the young Academician Lin said with a frown.

His Majesty Zhao Jiu was unperturbed and continued pointing at Hu Hongxiu.

"Reporting to Your Majesty, I also think it's unsuitable," Hu Hongxiu, who had been flipping through the book, spoke up. But then he handed the *A Scattered Collection of Tang Poems* back with the cover facing up. "However, I just saw a poem here that might be suitable..."

Zhao Jiu nodded, took the book casually, and upon seeing it, couldn't help but laugh. Then he read the title aloud: "This is Cen Shen's *Accompanying Lord Feng on the Ninth Day's Climb*... Lord Feng is Feng Changqing, right?"

"Exactly," the young Academician Lin responded. "I remember this poem: 'On the ninth day, with yellow flower wine, climbing high recalls ancient feasts. Frost's might follows the vice-premier, killing aura surrounds the camp. A horizontal flute startles the migrating geese, a charming song falls on the border clouds...'"

At this point, the young Academician Lin suddenly fell silent, and Moqi Xie's face turned pale as he looked at the instigator, Hu Hongxiu, who was already flustered.

Zhao Jiu was unperturbed. He picked up the book and examined it closely, continuing to recite while shaking his head: "On the border, fortunately there is no trouble, drunk and dancing, I rely on my lord."

This time, Liu Yan and Lady Wu also looked strange—somewhat angry, yet somewhat helpless.

Simply put, the line 'On the border, fortunately there is no trouble' was too obviously sarcastic. Cen Shen and Feng Changqing were climbing high during a lull in a time of 'no trouble on the border.' What was His Majesty Zhao Jiu doing?

However, perhaps because Zhao Jiu, as an engineering graduate, had a relatively low cultural level, and unlike calligraphy or archery, he couldn't rely on muscle memory as a foundation, after reading it once, he stared at this so-called "Miscellaneous Collection of Tang Poems" for a long time before finally realizing: "Adjutant Hu is trying to remonstrate with me?"

Having been left hanging for so long, Hu Hongxiu had long since lost his composure... After all, he came from a wealthy family; if he had the courage to remonstrate face-to-face, he would have submitted a memorial 'denouncing the imperial carriage' together with Chen Dong ages ago—why wait until today? Moreover, just now he had presented this poem in a roundabout way, intending a 'veiled remonstrance,' so how could he have expected the Zhao official to disregard all subtlety and lay it out directly?

"No matter." Zhao Jiu continued looking at the poetry collection in his hand, clearly unconcerned. "Adjutant Hu meant well... Rest assured, I will make a decision today; I won't delay matters."

Hu Hongxiu could only murmur in assent.

"Actually, if not for the last line, this poem by Cen Shen would be extremely fitting," Zhao Jiu continued.

"This poem is indeed somewhat inappropriate," Liu Yan also nodded seriously. "But this poem, along with Li Taibai's poem just now, are both unsuitable. As for what would be appropriate, I truly don't know what other poem there is!"

"It is indeed difficult," Academician Lin also spoke calmly. "The present moment is wartime, within the army. There are already very few poems related to the Double Ninth Festival that fit wartime and military settings. These two are already the most fitting. As for the current situation—the Jin army is launching a major offensive against Dongjing on the front lines, while in the rear, the southeastern army has barely set out before triggering a mutiny—this is already a crisis. In a crisis, during wartime, in the army, and with poems specifically for the Double Ninth Festival, I truly cannot think of any more."

Moqi Xie and Liu Yan both nodded in unison, and even Lady Wu followed with a nod, as if she truly understood. Upon hearing this, the Zhao official also nodded, as if he truly understood as well.

But after nodding, the Zhao official spread open the miscellaneous collection in his hands again and placed it before him: "What do you think of this poem?"

Everyone leaned in to look, but fell silent, their hearts stirring slightly. It turned out that this poem was right next to Cen Shen's poem—a Double Ninth Festival poem by Gao Shi, but only twenty characters short.

As the saying goes: Eager to climb high, I go, / But no one sends me wine. / From afar I pity the garden chrysanthemums, / They should bloom beside the battlefield.

While Moqi Xie and the others were lost in thought, the Zhao official had already risen with a hint of drunkenness, clasped his hands behind his back, and paced forward, clearly intending to look out from a height... Liu Yan and Lady Wu dared not neglect their duty and quickly followed beside him, in case of any mishap.

However, under the sunlight that had already sunk far to the west, the Zhao official stood with his hands behind his back, facing east with his back to the west, his gaze starting from the Baihe River below the mountain, gradually looking into the distance until it reached the indistinct horizon, remaining silent for a long time.

"Your Majesty!"

Academician Lin, having apparently thought enough, rose and came behind the official, carefully choosing his words as he addressed him. "Adjutant Hu did not mean it; he does not know Your Majesty's hardships and difficulties..."

Behind them, Hu Hongxiu's face flushed red, but he dared not interrupt. Moqi Xie, equally unable to escape the situation, simply shot Hu Hongxiu a cold glare.

After another moment, Zhao Jiu came back to his senses and shook his head slightly as he spoke: "It has nothing to do with Minister Hu. The difficulty in my heart today is just like the troubles I've encountered these past two days—I had anticipated them all along, but when the moment comes, it still feels unbearable... Actually, ever since I experienced Zhang Yongzhen's desperate battle on the Huai River, and then lit the little orange lamp and entered the Huai, I came to realize two things: First, the Jin army can definitely be defeated, and the victors will surely be us. Second, to defeat the Jin army, countless lives must be sacrificed for it! But there is another difficulty: as this so-called Great Song official, what right do I have to make this one sacrifice and that one not? Or to have this one not sacrifice and that one sacrifice?"

Not to mention the two adjutants behind him, even Academician Lin, who had thought a great deal before rising, was stunned.

"The departed are gone; I won't speak of the late Grand Councilor Zhang and Commander Xin. Let's talk about the present: the situation at the Dongjing garrison under Minister Zong is extremely difficult, and the southeastern troops cannot be used. The Bureau of Military Affairs naturally wants me to make a decision: should Han Shizhong, who is still resting and reorganizing, be ordered north to Shunchang Prefecture immediately?"

The Zhao official continued speaking in a low voice with his hands behind his back, his tone so low it was like muttering to himself. "If Han Shizhong goes to Shunchang Prefecture, which is just south of Zhengzhou, Wanyan Wushu will have to split his forces to deal with him, and might even attract this Fourth Prince, who has tasted defeat before, to come over early. Then Dongjing will naturally be much more relaxed... But then, what about the sacrifice of Han Shizhong's troops, who haven't finished resting? And what about the people of Shunchang Prefecture? This isn't a simple choice between whether Zong Ze or Han Shizhong should die, or whether the people of Dongjing or Shunchang Prefecture should be spared. It's that once a word is spoken, with even a slight bias, countless lives will be lost because of it."

"Your Majesty is benevolent," Liu Yan sighed. "Commander Yang often told me that Your Majesty was benevolent. I often countered with the matter at Mingdao Palace to show that I already knew, but I never expected... still... I have embarrassed Your Majesty."

"Your servant is ashamed," Lin Jingmo also lowered his head helplessly.

"One step at a time," Zhao Jiu shook his head again. "I'm not telling you this to be praised. It's just that my heart is heavy, and I hate that I cannot lead by example, that I can only futilely send others to their deaths, so I feel some shame... You two adjutants!"

"Your servant is here!"

"Yes!"

Moqi Xie and Hu Hongxiu, who had been listening intently, scrambled to their feet in disarray.

"Go tell the two Privy Councillors that I have made my decision: order Han Shizhong to march north to Yancheng!" Zhao Jiu said directly without turning his head. "As for me, I will return later!"

"Yes!"

"Yes!"

The two men each straightened up, quickly bowed, and then hurried away.

So, leaving aside the Zhao official, who had seen too many military reports and drunk too much chrysanthemum wine these past few days and was uncharacteristically moved by the times, on the other side, Hu Hongxiu and Moqi Xie hurried down the mountain. As they rounded a bend and looked up to see the Zhao official still standing with his hands behind his back, gazing into the distance, each harbored their own thoughts.

Take Moqi Xie, for example. He had originally thought that the official, being young, was being driven to self-abandonment by the cruel war, even adopting a carpe diem attitude... Such things have been common throughout history... But he never expected that the man had never lost his basic bearing from start to finish; it was just a bit of womanish kindness.

And for an official who was originally a commandery prince and only twenty-two years old this year, this didn't seem like a problem at all; on the contrary, he could be called a 'benevolent ruler.'

As for Han Shizhong's early northward march, it might be news to others, but for a rising star in the Bureau of Military Affairs, it had been discussed long ago and was hardly worth mentioning.

However, there was still one major gain today: the 'fitting' poem that the Zhao official had pointed out... 'From afar I pity the garden chrysanthemums, / They should bloom beside the battlefield'... Wasn't that exactly about the war at Dongjing? And wasn't the official's final decision to have Han Shizhong lead the Huaixi army into Shunchang Prefecture early exactly in line with his concern for the old grounds of Dongjing?

But here was the problem: hadn't the official fallen headfirst into a well and forgotten everything? How could he still pity the garden chrysanthemums?

"Brother Yuanzhong (Moqi Xie's style name), do you think the official really forgot the past when he fell into the well, or was he pretending?" At that moment, Hu Hongxiu couldn't help blurting out.

Moqi Xie stopped and looked at the person beside him, momentarily speechless... Was this something that could be said? Couldn't it be kept in the heart? Hadn't he caused enough trouble today?

Seeing this, Hu Hongxiu was about to speak again, but Moqi Xie stamped his feet repeatedly and fled down the mountain as if escaping.

At the same time, the Zhao official was completely unaware that a poem he had casually pointed out out of lament for the war's devastation of people's livelihoods had stirred such thoughts in two Bureau of Military Affairs officials... He had stared at the horizon for a long time, feeling only a vast emptiness, until finally the wine rose to his head, and he turned around and slowly walked down the mountain.

PS: Everyone, good night. Eat well this weekend...