Ever since the incident during Mid-Autumn night when Shui Diao Ge Tou was leaked by Xiao Chan, Ning Yi had been pretending to be sick and staying home for a few days, passing time by reading books or playing Five-in-a-Row with Xiao Chan. Today was his first day out. In the morning, he attended lessons at the academy, and in the afternoon, he picked up the whitewashed wooden boards he had ordered, bought some charcoal sticks, and ran into Master Qin and Master Kang.
Regarding poetry, Ning Yi had no mental burden. The poems he knew were valuable strategic resources in this era. If he ever needed to make a name for himself, he could use them to boost his reputation. But for now, sharing them was more about satisfying vanity, which held little meaning.
Scholars of this time liked to show off by citing classics. If one truly wanted to gain fame, they would be scrutinized in many ways. Ning Yi knew he could interpret Confucian works like The Analects in modern terms, but his classical knowledge was otherwise lacking. Hence, it might have been too soon to release his poems, but since the situation had already unfolded, he accepted it with indifference.
A few days earlier, the Su family elders had called him and Su Tan'er for questioning. Ning Yi dismissed it lightly, claiming he hadn't written the poem. Su's Patriarch, after a long pause, simply smiled and said, "Let's keep this secret from outsiders." The old man was shrewd, whether he believed Ning Yi or not was hard to say, but if Ning Yi truly had literary talent, it would put the Su family in a tricky position. People were speculating.
For Ning Yi, being a son-in-law was far more comfortable than being a celebrated scholar—no responsibilities, no expectations, and the family still treated him well. He had no intention of abandoning this identity, at least for now. The ease of the past few months was something he cherished, and the idea of giving it up seemed absurd to him, though he doubted even Xiao Chan would believe him if he said it aloud.
Rumors must have been spreading, and he could guess their nature. When Xiao Chan mentioned the Zhishui Poetry Gathering and he heard Kang Xian's name, Ning Yi was stunned but also found it amusing. He had known the old man was extraordinary, but not to this extent.
After a few days of rest, Ning Yi returned to his usual routine. However, during a lecture at the academy, Yu Zixing, who had been reprimanded by Master Kang at the poetry gathering, came with other scholars to apologize.
In a sense, Yu Zixing's reputation had taken a hit after the incident, but Kang Xian admired his talent and privately encouraged him. By apologizing, Yu Zixing hoped to restore his image somewhat. Ning Yi played along, showing mutual respect, but declined an invitation to an evening gathering, preferring instead to take his freshly painted boards and leave.
"Yu Zixing is morally decent, and while not the top scholar, his talent is commendable," Kang Xian remarked with a smile. "But your Shui Diao Ge Tou is exceptional. I doubt anyone will dare compose another moon-themed poem during Mid-Autumn at Qinhuai for the next few years. Who would've thought you, a man claiming ignorance of poetry, had such talent?"
"I've already said I don't understand poetry," Ning Yi replied, sipping his tea. "When I was young, a ragged Taoist passing by my house recited the poem, so I memorized it."
He had told Su's Patriarch the same story. Master Qin burst out laughing. "Even a three-year-old wouldn't believe that."
Kang Xian also chimed in, "You're far too lazy and need a little push... However, being known as a talented scholar seems to have its uses. That young lady you were chatting with earlier had both the looks and grace to match, and she seemed quite interested in you. If this leads to a romance, haha, boy, you'll owe me a favor!"
As a son-in-law, pursuing romantic endeavors wasn't easy for Ning Yi, and Kang Xian was merely teasing him. Ning Yi then explained the incident that occurred before Mid-Autumn, and only then did the two elders understand the situation. After their game, the three of them took a break. Master Qin, sipping his tea, pointed to another matter that caught his interest. "Writing? So, you plan to use charcoal sticks to write on this whiteboard for teaching purposes?"
"Yes, the sand tray method is limited; you can only write a few characters at a time, and it's cumbersome. Writing directly is much more practical and straightforward."
In those days, teachers used sand trays to write one character at a time, which was then smoothed over. Most lessons were delivered orally, and students had to rely on their full attention to remember the material. Only the smartest or most diligent students could keep up with this demanding method.
Of course, to Master Qin and Master Kang, teaching methods that had been in use for thousands of years were naturally beyond question. Knowledge was for the upper class, and if you wanted to become part of that class, how could you not endure hardship? Even learning itself was a test of character. Master Qin picked up a charcoal stick, drew on the whiteboard, and then furrowed his brow.
"The sand tray is soft, allowing writing with a branch to be akin to brushwork. But charcoal sticks are hard to control; this method seems problematic."
Earlier, Nie Yunzhu had focused only on the calligraphy itself, but Master Qin had a different perspective. With just a few strokes, he raised an objection—after all, a teacher not using traditional brush techniques in class could be seen as a serious issue. Master Kang tried the method himself, also frowning. "This matter must be handled with care." If Ning Yi had been his disciple, Master Kang might have scolded him on the spot, sternly pointing out the severity of altering such time-honored practices.
Ning Yi, however, understood their concerns and smiled. He crouched down, took a charcoal stick, and said, "It's not such a big deal. Writing is, after all, a form of self-cultivation. Moreover, these scripts share some characteristics with brush calligraphy. For mere record-keeping, it's not unreasonable to be a little flexible—perhaps... it's just another angle to consider."
After saying this, he began to write: "Red soft hands, yellow vine wine, two orioles chirping in the green willows." This was written in regular script. Then he switched to clerical script: "Outside the pavilion, along the ancient road, a line of egrets flies into the azure sky."
Next, he wrote in Song style: "Three mountains half falling beyond the blue sky."
Song script hadn't appeared yet in history, so Master Qin and Master Kang exchanged glances. To introduce such a disruptive idea, a bold approach was needed. In his past business dealings, Ning Yi always favored subtle but impactful methods, and now he continued by writing in slender-gold script: "Two waters divide the white egret islet."
Then he switched to cursive: "In the northwest, there's a beauty, who hangs herself on the southeast branch."
Finally, he used italic script: "To behold a thousand-mile view, one must hang from the southeast branch."
The board was just large enough. Finishing his writing, Ning Yi put down the charcoal stick. "So, how do you like it?" he asked. Master Qin and Master Kang burst out laughing.
"The characters are quite decent, but you're making a mockery of poetry…"
"This is an insult to literature, outrageous!"
"You are simply too lazy! These verses, what are they supposed to be…"
Despite their words, their eyes remained fixed on the board, occasionally reading aloud and offering comments.
"The northwest has a beauty... what nonsense! It's clearly the north has a beauty, unrivaled in the world. This song comes from The Book of Han, and then you pair it with 'hanging from the southeast branch'... do you think 'northwest' rhymes with 'southeast'?"
"Master Kang, you are indeed wise."
"If you were my disciple, I'd have someone whip you for defiling the works of our forefathers. Doodling nonsense like this, and you dare to distort the masterpiece 'Gazing Into the Distance'—aren't you afraid Wang Zhihuan's ghost will come after you for revenge? Every line ends with 'hanging from the southeast branch,' as if 'Peacock Flying Southeast' had fallen under a curse!"
"Haha, one day I thought: What if I pieced together poems like this? Might it create a new flavor? Don't you think so, Master Kang? 'In the northwest, there's a beauty, hanging from the southeast branch. Raising my head to gaze at the bright moon, hanging from the southeast branch. An empty mountain, with no one in sight, hanging from the southeast branch. Throughout history, all sages have been lonely, but only hanging from the southeast branch. Since time immemorial, who hasn't died? Better to hang from the southeast branch...'"
Master Kang shook his head. "When it comes to the works of the sages, one must be meticulous." His words held a hint of amusement but also some seriousness. Meanwhile, Master Qin was examining the other lines and then said, "When will the bright moon rise?"
Master Kang continued, "Probably also hanging from the southeast branch..." The two burst into laughter.
Master Qin then pointed at the earlier verses with the charcoal stick: "These too are pieced together—I can't tell where they're from. But it seems likely they're Ning Yi's own creation, yes? Red soft hands, yellow vine wine... The following line doesn't flow well, but two orioles chirping in the green willows, a line of egrets flying into the azure sky—those two should be part of a single poem, correct? Three mountains half-falling beyond the blue sky, two waters dividing the white egret islet—what beautiful imagery. This must be from another poem."
He circled these lines with the charcoal, isolating Red soft hands, yellow vine wine and Outside the pavilion, along the ancient road. After studying them for a while, he drew a line between the two. He seemed to conclude that they weren't from the same poem either. Master Kang nodded in agreement: "Definitely two separate poems." Then they both glanced at Ning Yi.
Ning Yi couldn't help but admire them. Had it been him, he might have recognized those twelve words as coming from different poems due to their symmetry and structure. The verses were long enough to allow for some transition. Though not easy to split, Master Qin and Master Kang had accurately divided them at a glance based purely on instinct.
"This should be four separate poems. I wonder if the full poems exist, or are they simply fragmented lines?" Master Qin looked toward Ning Yi and asked.