Chapter 18: Willow Branches and Moonlight

　　The next day, Qianli Xun wrote the note and sent Kuqiao back to the Zhu residence to slip it through the door crack of the Buddhist shrine.

　　After finishing the task, Kuqiao hurried back to the Lin residence. At the gate, she ran into Huayu—the page boy belonging to Dongfang Chenze.

　　Dongfang Chenze was one of Lin’an’s most renowned young scholars. Handsome and wealthy, he loved organizing gatherings for poets and talented ladies. He held one almost every month, and Zhu Shuzhen had always been his guest of honor.

　　Huayu spotted Kuqiao and immediately handed over an invitation. “Sister Kuqiao, my master invites your young lady to today’s poetry salon at the Yongtai Teahouse by West Lake.”

　　Kuqiao took the invitation. “Your master holds a poetry salon every month. Doesn’t he get tired of it? My lady’s been very busy lately. She may not be able to make it.”

　　“You just need to deliver the invitation. Whether she comes or not is her choice. My job is done. I’ll take my leave.”

　　After Huayu left, Kuqiao walked into the Lin residence and headed to the Zhulan Residence. She told her miss the note had been delivered, then handed her the invitation.

　　Qianli Xun took it, opened it, and read through it. “Who is this Dongfang Chenze?”

　　Kuqiao replied, “He’s a well-known young poet in Lin’an. He loves getting cultured folks together. Every time the Old Master held a poetry banquet, he was invited. That’s how he met you, Miss. After that, he started hosting poetry salons all the time and always invited you.”

　　“Did I usually enjoy going?”

　　Kuqiao nodded. “Very much so. But with the mutual divorce happening tomorrow, are you in the mood?”

　　These past few days, Qianli Xun had been shuttling between the Zhu residence and the Lin residence, trying to persuade elders to speak for her. She felt like she was rusting. Might as well get out for some fresh air. Making more friends wouldn’t hurt.

　　“I’m in a great mood. If I always enjoyed going before, I’ll go this time too. Hurry and get me ready—I’m going to see people, after all.”

　　After Kuqiao helped her miss dress up, they boarded the carriage and headed toward West Lake.

　　Qianli Xun had always planned to visit West Lake but never found the time. She never expected that after transmigrating, she’d finally get the chance—and to see West Lake as it was over a thousand years ago. She was determined to enjoy it to the fullest.

　　When they arrived, the view before her was like an ink-wash painting come to life. The lake was clear and still, reflecting the surrounding hills and trees. Rolling green hills framed the clear water, while ancient willows swayed in the cool breeze. Quaint little bridges arched over the shallows, and wild ducks paddled peacefully across the surface.

　　Qianli Xun was captivated. She stopped in her tracks, unable to move on. Just as she was completely absorbed in the scenery, a woman’s voice reached her.

　　“Youqi Jushi has been to West Lake plenty of times before. Why are you so taken with the view today?”

　　Qianli Xun didn’t react at all. She wasn’t familiar with the name “Youqi Jushi” and didn’t realize the voice was addressing her. She stayed lost in the view.

　　Only when Kuqiao whispered in her ear, “Miss, Youqi Jushi is you. The one talking to you is Miao Zhiyu. Her father is the Vice-Prefect of Lin’an.”

　　Qianli Xun finally caught on. Zhu Shuzhen’s literary name was Youqi Jushi. She put on a smile and turned around. Before her stood a graceful classical beauty, exuding an air of literary refinement. Even the maid behind her seemed to carry a distinctive elegance, influenced by her mistress’s scholarly aura.

　　Now that Qianli Xun knew the woman’s name, she wasn’t sure how to address her. Better to keep things vague. “I come here often, but the beauty of this place never gets old. Today the scenery is especially lovely. I couldn’t help but stop and admire it.”

　　“Why does Youqi Jushi have a wound on her forehead?”

　　“Nothing. An accident.”

　　Miao Zhiyu thought to herself with a wry smile: We all know that military brute of a husband beats you. Why bother hiding it?

　　“Is Youqi Jushi here for Master Dongfang’s poetry salon?”

　　“That’s right.” Qianli Xun kept her words short. The less she said, the less likely they’d notice something was off.

　　“Shall we head over together?”

　　Qianli Xun nodded. She walked side by side with Miao Zhiyu, resisting the urge to make conversation. Miao Zhiyu stayed quiet as well. After a while, a vast stretch of lotus leaves spread across the water ahead. Many flower buds swayed gently in the breeze. Qianli Xun thought, If I had my smartphone right now, I’d definitely be taking a hundred photos for Instagram.

　　She noticed Miao Zhiyu showed no reaction to the stunning landscape. She sighed to herself—no matter how beautiful something is, if you see it every day, the wonder fades. To play the part of someone who lived beside such beauty, she turned her gaze forward and kept walking.

　　They turned onto a narrow path that led into a grove of trees along the shore of West Lake. A little further in, a two-story teahouse appeared. There were no trees in front of the entrance—only flower beds and ornamental grasses. Beyond the flowers, the calm green waters of the lake stretched out.

　　“Youqi Jushi, please.” Miao Zhiyu gestured gracefully, every movement reflecting the poise of a well-bred lady.

　　Qianli Xun wasn’t about to let Zhu Shuzhen lose in manners. After all, Zhu Shuzhen was a true lady of noble birth. “After you.”

　　The two yielded to each other politely, then entered the teahouse side by side.

　　The teahouse was decorated with impeccable taste. Every table held a flower arrangement. Calligraphy and paintings by famous artists hung on the walls. Some patrons held tea bowls, sipping and admiring the artwork. At one table, a female tea master demonstrated the art of whisked tea. At another, a group of patrons sat around watching two artisans compete in a whisking contest.

　　A teahouse attendant came up to greet them—clearly a familiar face. “The two ladies have finally arrived. Master Dongfang is upstairs waiting for you.”

　　Miao Zhiyu asked, “Any new calligraphy or paintings hung up?”

　　The attendant replied, “Same as before. New ones will be up next month.”

　　Miao Zhiyu said, “Youqi Jushi, we’ve already seen all these pieces. Let’s go straight upstairs. I hear Master Dongfang got his hands on a new poem by Yi’an Jushi. That’s why he invited us to come study it.”

　　Qianli Xun thought to herself: Yi’an Jushi? Could that be Li Qingzhao? I wonder which new poem it is? Though to me, all her poems are old ones. Heh!

　　(TN: Yi’an Jushi is the pseudonym of Li Qingzhao, widely considered the greatest female poet in Chinese history, who lived during the Song Dynasty.)

　　“If it’s Yi’an Jushi’s poem, we should definitely take our time savoring it.”

　　Led by the attendant, they went upstairs. The second floor was lined with elegant private rooms, each named after a line of poetry: “Bright Autumn Moon,” “Grass Like Jade Threads,” “Silently Nourishing All,” “Moon Among Pines,” and more.

　　The attendant pushed open the door of a room labeled “Heavy Dew, Frail Flowers.”

　　Qianli Xun thought: Those four characters must come from one of Li Qingzhao’s ci. But she couldn’t quite recall which one.

　　Inside the room, three distinguished-looking men sat at separate tables, each sipping tea. When they saw Zhu Shuzhen and Miao Zhiyu enter, they all stood up with welcoming smiles. One of them said, “Youqi Jushi, Lady Miao, you’ve finally arrived. We’ve been waiting for ages.”

　　Qianli Xun finally understood why everyone called Miao Zhiyu simply “Lady Miao.” The one speaking, she guessed, must be their host Dongfang Chenze. The other two—she had no idea who they were. She’d have to ask Kuqiao later.

　　Qianli Xun returned the greeting. “Sorry to keep you three gentlemen waiting.”

　　Miao Zhiyu bowed as well.

　　Dongfang Chenze said, “No need for formalities. Please, sit down.”

　　The three gentlemen noticed the wound on Zhu Shuzhen’s forehead. Though it was nearly healed, it was still clearly visible. The three exchanged glances, then took their seats.

　　Just then, a female tea master from the teahouse entered with her maid. She walked to the tea table and began preparing tea. Everyone fell silent, watching her graceful movements with care.

　　Qianli Xun had seen Kuqiao prepare tea before. Compared to this performer, Kuqiao’s technique was rough and clumsy. She moved with unhurried ease, every gesture natural and beautiful—a pleasure to watch.

　　After admiring the performance for a while, Qianli Xun beckoned Kuqiao over with her finger. Kuqiao understood and leaned in close. Qianli Xun whispered, “The gentleman in the middle must be Dongfang Chenze. Who are the other two? Do you know?”

　　Kuqiao had accompanied Zhu Shuzhen to these gatherings often and knew them well. She lowered her voice. “The one on the left is Cao Ban, son of Judge Cao. The one on the right is An Mingxuan, son of the Intendant.”

　　Qianli Xun nodded, quickly committing the names to memory. She whispered again, “How did I usually address them?”

　　“You’ve always called them by their courtesy titles—just ‘young gentleman,’ Miss.” Kuqiao answered, then stepped back to her post.

　　Qianli Xun finally relaxed and returned to watching the performance. The tea master was tracing designs on the surface of the tea with a slender bamboo tool. When she finished, the maid behind her carried the bowl over and set it on Qianli Xun’s table. “Youqi Jushi, please enjoy.”

　　Qianli Xun nodded, thinking: Even the teahouse maids know Zhu Shuzhen. She must be a regular here.

　　She looked down at the bowl. On the frothy surface, delicate willow branches and a bright moon had been drawn with a few simple strokes. The image gave the tea an artistic depth. It felt like destroying a masterpiece—Qianli Xun almost couldn’t bear to ruin it by drinking. She marveled—people a thousand years ago had more refined taste than the age of technology. The willow branches and moon reminded her of the earthquake, and of Shen Jianchen. Where had the power of the Divine Willow taken him?

　　Lost in thought, she barely noticed as the maid set another tea bowl on Miao Zhiyu’s table. “Lady Miao, please enjoy your tea.”

　　When the performance ended, she rose, bowed to everyone, and left with her maid.

　　Dongfang Chenze spoke up. “Ladies, please enjoy your tea.”

　　Miao Zhiyu lifted her bowl, took a delicate sip, and set it down slowly. “I hear you’ve obtained a new poem by Yi’an Jushi, Master Dongfang. Please, let us see it.”

　　Dongfang Chenze said, “Let Youqi Jushi finish her tea first. There’s no rush to study the poem.”

　　Hearing this, Qianli Xun had no choice but to lift her bowl. She watched the willow branches and moonlight dissolve sip by sip, the image fading as the tea slipped down her throat.

　　When she set the bowl down, she found everyone staring at her in confusion. Qianli Xun immediately understood. She’d drunk too fast. She quickly explained, “I was thirsty from the journey.”

　　Dongfang Chenze laughed. “Shall I have the tea master prepare another bowl for Youqi Jushi?”

　　“No, no, that’s quite enough.” Qianli Xun looked embarrassed as she waved him off. She didn’t want to delay everyone’s poetry discussion because of her.

　　Miao Zhiyu urged, “In that case, shall we get on with reviewing Yi’an Jushi’s poem?”

　　Dongfang Chenze ordered his page boy Huayu, who stood to the side, “Hang Yi’an Jushi’s poem on the wall.”

　　Huayu unrolled the two scrolls in his hands and hung them side by side on the wall.

　　Everyone turned to look.

　　Qianli Xun was pleased inwardly: So it’s Li Qingzhao’s reflective poem. The preface is on the right scroll. I know this poem well. I shouldn’t embarrass myself in front of them.

　　Dongfang Chenze introduced it: “Ladies and gentlemen, this poem was written by Yi’an Jushi last year. Not exactly new, but hard to come by. Thanks to our friend Qiao Wenxian, who knows someone close to Yi’an Jushi, we received this poem by letter. Now I have the pleasure of inviting you all to study and discuss it.”

　　Hearing Qiao Wenxian’s name, a blush spread across Miao Zhiyu’s face. “Is Master Qiao in Lin’an, or in Bianliang?”

　　Dongfang Chenze said, “If Master Qiao were in Lin’an, I’d certainly have invited him to join us. Ever since Youqi Jushi married the Military Training Officer, Master Qiao left for Bianliang. He hasn’t returned to Lin’an since. I hear he’s staying at his nephew Prince Yi’s estate.”

　　The three young scholars studied Zhu Shuzhen’s expression carefully.

　　Being stared at made Qianli Xun uncomfortable. She smiled back. She couldn’t figure out why Dongfang Chenze had specifically emphasized that Qiao Wenxian left for Bianliang after Zhu Shuzhen got married. Was there something between those two? Their looks were very strange indeed.