Six

Chapter Six: A Scholar of Great Talent

Long periods of order inevitably give way to chaos; prolonged unity inevitably leads to division. The once-mighty Tang Dynasty had reached its twilight. It was the seventh month, and the enchanting city of Bianliang remained as captivating as ever, though now tinged with the oppressive heat of midsummer.

At the eastern city gate, the flow of people showed no sign of thinning despite the sweltering weather. The streets buzzed continuously with the cries of vendors. Among them, the busiest stall was a humble stand selling wooden clogs—shoes carved from wood, as their name implied.

The owner of this stall was none other than Duan Mingyu, who at this moment was busily counting the morning’s earnings. Feeling the weight of the heavy coin purse, a broad smile blossomed on his face like a chrysanthemum in full bloom. Turning to another busy figure at the stall, he called out, “Brother Xu, this morning’s haul has been tremendous, hasn’t it!”

Xu Zuye wiped the sweat from his brow and replied, “You young lad seem to have it easy, but I, Xu Zuye, am no small figure in Bianliang city. Yet here I am, reduced to your errand boy. It’s no easy task for an old man like me!” His face was clouded with a woeful expression, as if burdened by endless grievances.

“Brother Xu, we’re doing brainwork while you’re doing the heavy lifting. Our pressures are equally heavy, believe me. I see all your hard work. Old Sun, bring us two bowls of iced sour plum soup to quench our thirst in this cursed heat!” Duan Mingyu called out.

“All right, coming right up!” Old Sun chuckled as he handed them two bowls of the chilled drink, swiftly collected the payment, and cheerfully trotted away.

Duan Mingyu took a sip of the refreshing sour plum soup, and the oppressive heat seemed to dissipate. Feeling invigorated, he glanced at Xu Zuye, whose complexion had eased somewhat, and breathed a sigh of relief—if Old Xu had stormed off in anger, it would have been disastrous. Watching the bustling marketplace and the passing crowd, his thoughts drifted to past and present lives…

Since his old home had been utterly destroyed, leaving nothing but ruins, Duan Mingyu chose to stay at Xu Zuye’s house. As the saying goes, “The world’s hustle and bustle is all for profit.” Duan Mingyu decisively returned to his old trade—setting up a street stall.

He had originally intended only to carve wooden clogs to earn some pocket money, but unexpectedly, these wooden shoes were wildly popular in this era, almost in short supply. Xu Zuye, once unemployed, had eagerly become Duan Mingyu’s assistant after a few persuasive promises from the latter.

“Hey, those wooden shoes look quite nice. How much for a pair?” A sudden question pulled Duan Mingyu from his thoughts. Before him stood a little girl about six or seven years old, her hair tied in small pigtails. When she spoke, two tiny, white baby teeth showed, and her cheeks were as delicate as carved jade. Wearing a pair of tiger-head boots, she looked utterly adorable. Duan Mingyu couldn’t help but steal a few extra glances, though sometimes, staring too much at others brings its own consequences.

“Grandpa, why isn’t this man answering? Is he mute? So young and yet so pitiful,” the little girl asked, her tone tinged with sympathy and a hint of sorrow.

Just then, an elderly man with a long beard appeared like a ghostly figure. Upon closer inspection, his cloudy eyes still gleamed with sharpness. His face twitched slightly as he said to Duan Mingyu, “Ahem, young man, my granddaughter is asking you something.”

Xu Zuye hurried forward to greet the two, saying, “My apologies, sirs. This is my younger brother, recently beset by romantic troubles and a little out of sorts. Please forgive any offense caused.”

“Heh, young folks and their romantic woes are quite normal,” the elderly man responded with an understanding expression.

Duan Mingyu, having regained his composure, cursed inwardly: Xu, you’re really too much! Couldn’t you find a better excuse? When I was in kindergarten, I was the heartthrob of the class—though admittedly, the only boy there—and to be rejected? You’re forcing this top scholar to lose face. Alas, a lifetime of brilliance undone in an instant. Jealousy? Absolutely jealousy that I’m more handsome than you.

Fuming, Duan Mingyu declared, “Sir, I am Duan Mingyu. Don’t listen to Old Xu’s nonsense. I am a man of honor, upright and incorruptible, blessed with good fortune and smooth sailing. Surely, a man so fortunate would not be love-stricken, right?”

The elder, clearly disregarding Duan’s ramblings, focused on the useful part. “Your surname is Xu?” he asked Xu Zuye directly.

Xu Zuye replied, “Indeed, I am Xu Zuye. Judging by your accents, you are not from around here. May I ask your names?”

“I am Yang Yanguang,” the elder man responded politely.

The little girl answered crisply, “I’m Yang Zhaoniang.”

Duan Mingyu cupped his fists in salute toward Yang Yanguang. “Thank you for your courtesy, Elder Yang!”

Yang Yanguang waved his hand dismissively. “Young Duan said someone was talking nonsense. Old fool here asks, what were you pondering just now, young Duan?”

The ‘someone’ here was, of course, Xu Zuye. Apparently, Yang Yanguang also doubted the old man’s words.

Duan Mingyu shot Xu Zuye a fierce glare, silently saying: See? The eyes of the people are sharp. Xu Zuye’s face flushed red as he coughed twice to cover his embarrassment.

Duan Mingyu paid no mind to Xu’s awkwardness and pondered how to answer Yang Yanguang’s question. What was he thinking about? He knew very well—it was simply that he had stolen a few extra glances at Yang Zhaoniang. But he couldn’t very well admit he was mesmerized by the beauty of the elder’s granddaughter. Who knew if this old man might suddenly strangle him for such honesty? What to do, what to do? Suddenly, inspiration struck.

“Elder Yang, I was merely composing a little poem just now, quietly delighted with myself, which is why I didn’t hear what young Zhaoniang said!”

“You? Compose poetry?” Xu Zuye sneered, while Yang Zhaoniang pouted, clearly incredulous.

Yang Yanguang stroked his beard. “Young Duan, why not recite your masterpiece for old fool here to see?”

Duan Mingyu smiled lightly, though inside he was frantically searching through his memory for a suitable ancient poem. The Three Hundred Tang Poems wouldn’t do—now that the Tang Dynasty was nearing its end, most Tang poetry had already been published. Ah, he found it!

Shaking his head, Duan Mingyu said, “Believe it or not, I am truly a scholar of great talent and vast learning, though I have always kept a low profile. The demeanor of a master is always so. Ahem, brace yourselves and try not to worship me too much after hearing this.”