The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

My friend at the table praised it loudly, and then, inspired by his own inspiration, added a poem that focused more on the imagery:

My carefree spirit is that of a celestial being, who has by chance descended to earth to run a tavern.

Drunk, I forgot I was a guest; I simply composed poems about mist and clouds before my wine cup.

These poems quickly spread among the guests. As they savored the praise in the poems and looked around at the scenery in the building, they felt that the name "The House of Music and Recreation" was truly fitting. Its style had surpassed that of ordinary restaurants, making it a rare and elegant place.

The scholar in the blue robe exclaimed to his companion, "In the past, Wang Wei had a villa in Wangchuan, where poetry and painting blended seamlessly. Now, looking at this 'Family of Music and Recreation,' which brings together gourmet food, fine wine, melodious music, exquisite dance, and medicinal cuisine, and even has a plaque personally inscribed by Ouyang Xiu, its profound artistic conception will likely make it a new gathering place of cultural brilliance in Chenzhou!"

This remark drew nods of agreement from everyone present. Those scholars and poets who had initially come merely to try it out or join the fun now firmly believed that this place would become the premier venue for discussing poetry and literature. The elegant name of the String Pavilion, imbued with a soul by these impromptu poems, seemed to gain even greater depth and vividness, becoming, along with Li Jingniang's stunning performance, the most moving legend of Chenzhou City that night.

Du Ziteng weaved through the crowd, dealing with a constant stream of orders, his forehead beaded with sweat but his face beaming with smiles.

Qin Tiehua, carrying a freshly poured cup of fine wine, moved gracefully among the guests. An elderly man, sipping the wine with his eyes closed, suddenly burst into tears: "Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!!! For forty years... since leaving Bianjing, I haven't tasted such fine wine. This 'Drunken Eight Immortals' is truly 'jade nectar'!"

Liu Xinyi's medicinal cuisine was sold out. A wealthy businessman who had been suffering from a long-term illness felt that most of the depression in his chest had dissipated after drinking "Four Gods Soup". He was so excited that he insisted on seeing the doctor who prescribed the medicine.

As the sun set, the guests lingered, reluctant to leave. The Xiange Tower remained brightly lit, filled with laughter and chatter. Wang Zhonghua stood in the "Poetry" VIP box on the third floor, watching the endless stream of people below, a smile playing on his lips.

Qin Tiehua and Liu Xinyi were already standing beside him at some point.

"It seems we were overthinking it," Qin Tiehua said softly, his eyes filled with relief.

Liu Xinyi glanced down at the customers vying to make reservations and smiled slightly: "Tomorrow will probably be even busier."

Wang Zhonghua stood with his hands behind his back, the setting sun casting a long shadow of him across the Xiange Lake outside the window: "This is just the beginning. If you don't believe me, let's try it."

Downstairs, Du Ziteng's voice cut through the noise:

"Dear guests, tomorrow's seats are fully booked, and the day after tomorrow, only the 'Flower' private room on the third floor remains unreserved!"

A collective sigh of regret rippled through the crowd. Who could have imagined that just hours ago, this high-priced restaurant had been questioned by many, and now it was completely sold out?

That night, the name of the String Pavilion, along with the intoxicating aroma of wine and the enchanting string music, spread to every corner of Chenzhou City.

……

Lixiangyuan.

The first quarter of the hour of Xu (7-9 PM).

Wang Zhonghua arrived as promised.

Deep within Furong Lane, Lixiang Garden lies hidden in the night, like a piece of black jade wrapped in silk, its brilliance understated yet possessing a quiet nobility. High walls line both sides of the lane, topped with green tiles, within which bamboo shadows sway gently in the wind, rustling softly, faintly carrying the clear, melodious sound of a zither, seemingly both near and far. There are no archways or lanterns here; even if ordinary people approach, they would simply assume it's the home of a refined noble family. Only two simple sheepskin lanterns sway gently in the night breeze, their shades embroidered with the three characters "Lixiang Garden" in flowing cursive script, the strokes elegant and scholarly. Countless wealthy merchants and nobles of Chenzhou City, indulging in sensual pleasures, have been politely turned away at the alley's entrance by the seemingly gentle old woman guarding the gate—entry is by invitation only, a strict rule. Even the prefect must present his visiting card three days in advance and await the garden's response.

Lixiang Garden does not participate in the list of most beautiful courtesans, nor does it cater to vulgar customers who spend lavishly. The girls in the garden are all skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, and prose. Rather than a brothel, it is more like a top-tier place for scholars and literati to engage in refined conversation. Its owner is elusive, rumored to be the property of a prince in the capital, who secretly scouts out talented individuals from all over the country.

The maid leading the way was named Lian'er, about fifteen or sixteen years old, dressed in a lotus-colored dress, her hair neatly styled. She carried a small glass palace lantern, walking lightly ahead, neither turning back to exchange pleasantries nor deliberately neglecting anyone, striking the perfect balance. As they passed through a moon gate, she noticed Wang Zhonghua's gaze fixed on a newly blooming white camellia in the corner of the wall, and said softly, "That was transplanted by my young lady herself. She said she likes white tea because it doesn't compete or fight, yet it has a noble spirit." She then smiled, a clever glint in her eyes and brow.

After passing through several winding corridors, even in winter, a stream still flowed gently beneath them, with several lotus-shaped stone lanterns floating on the surface, reflecting in the shimmering water. Lian'er paused briefly at a fork in the road, listening intently to the faint sounds of stringed instruments in the distance, before choosing to turn left. She explained, seemingly casually, "The right side is 'Drunken Flower Shade,' where several young gentlemen are drinking and making merry. I don't want to disturb your conversation with the young lady." She was perceptive and already knew her guests' preferences.

Finally, they stopped in front of a moon gate inscribed with "Listening to Snow Pavilion". Lian'er turned to the side and lifted the beaded curtain, saying softly, "Please come in, young master. My young lady has been waiting for you for a long time." Her voice was soft and sweet, yet each word was clear and distinct, carrying a well-trained elegance.

As Wang Zhonghua stepped inside, a cool, refreshing plum blossom fragrance wafted towards him, creating a world apart from the faint sounds of string and bamboo instruments outside. The small house was simply furnished, yet every item was exquisite. A thick, snow-white Persian carpet covered the floor, silent underfoot, its lotus scroll pattern gleaming warmly in the candlelight. By the window stood a rosewood table, upon which rested an ancient zither with a scorched tail, its tuning pegs gleaming with a deep purple light, clearly the result of years of handling. Several ink paintings of plum blossoms hung on the walls, their brushstrokes solitary and aloof, the ink varying in five shades, the branches like iron, the petals like snow—clearly the work of a master.

The most striking feature is the row of bookshelves against the wall, neatly arranged with classics, histories, philosophical works, musical scores, music treatises, and even several rare and unique editions of poetry and prose. On the desk by the window, a Ming Dynasty Xuande incense burner emits wisps of smoke, burning the finest ambergris, its fragrance delicate and elusive. Rather than the boudoir of a courtesan, this place seems more like the study of a recluse.

"Young Master Wang is indeed a man of his word." The beaded curtain rustled softly as Li Jingniang stepped out gracefully. She had changed out of the sky-blue ruqun she wore during the daytime performance, and was now only wearing a moon-white soft satin long robe. Her black hair was loosely tied up, adorned only with a plain silver plum blossom hairpin. Having washed away all artifice, her features were even more exquisite, her beauty pure and captivating.

Before she could finish speaking, a slightly drunken voice interrupted loudly, "Jingniang, you've kept me waiting! You must critique this new poem! I've been pondering my revised version of 'Where will I be when I wake up tonight? On the willow bank, in the morning breeze and under the waning moon' for three whole days and nights..."

Wang Zhonghua turned his head and saw Liu Sanbian, dressed in a brocade robe, slumped on an embroidered stool beside him, holding a wine pot, his face flushed. Several manuscripts filled with cursive script were scattered on the table. This man was a famous talented scholar from Fujian, a genius in lyrics and music, even praised by Ouyang Xiu as "a master of exceptional talent." He was naturally unrestrained, spending his days indulging in wine and women, neglecting his business, thus his talent was widely known, yet he remained perpetually impoverished.

Even more embarrassing was the incident two years prior when he went to the capital to take the imperial examinations, intending to curry favor with powerful figures through his poetry. He presented them with his poem "Crane Soaring to the Sky - On the Golden List," which read:

On the golden list, I missed the top spot by chance. A worthy man temporarily overlooked in the Ming Dynasty, what can I do? My ambitions thwarted, why not indulge in unbridled revelry? Why bother with gains or losses? Talented scholars and poets are, in themselves, ministers in plain clothes.

In the alleyways of pleasure, amidst the painted screens, I am fortunate to find my beloved. Let us then embrace the beauties, indulging in romance and revelry. Youth is fleeting; why not exchange fleeting fame for quiet contemplation and gentle singing?

This poem was eventually presented to Emperor Renzong for his perusal. Upon seeing lines such as "In the brothels and alleys, nestled among beauties, how could one bear to exchange fleeting fame for leisurely drinking and singing!", Emperor Renzong frowned, displeased, and wrote eight characters: "Decadent music, a sign of national ruin." From then on, Liu Sanbian's path to officialdom was cut off. He simply indulged in a dissolute lifestyle, increasingly calling himself "The Lonely Traveler at the End of the World," spending his days drunk and sleeping among flowers, using arrogance to mask his disappointment at his unfulfilled ambitions.

At this moment, Liu Sanbian, his eyes blurry with drunkenness, sized up Wang Zhonghua, let out a hiccup, and laughed, "Oh, another one vying for favor? Jingniang's 'Listening to Snow Pavilion' is more lively than the examination hall these days!"

Li Jingniang smiled slightly at Liu Sanbian, her smile polite but distant: "Brother Liu's poem is naturally good. Let the maid warm the wine first, and I will read it carefully after I finish discussing business with Young Master Wang."

Her words were gentle, yet she possessed an undeniable air of authority.