Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Untidy Taoist

“Absolutely not! I’m no poet—I’d be miserable surrounded by all those scholars. How could that compare to the comfort of enjoying the scenery on this pleasure boat?”

Zhao Hengyi dared not let the Lady of Xiangcheng get the better of him. On this entire boat, even the ones steering were maids from the women’s guards; only he and Wang Erhu were men aboard. If he became a target, the consequences would be dire indeed!

“My brother-in-law certainly knows how to talk. It seems you’ve spent plenty of time sweet-talking my little sister Xiaoyu.”

Wei Linglan smiled as always, clearly not intending to let Zhao Hengyi off so easily. “Xiaoyu tells me the Nine-Flower Jade Dew was your doing alone. Those two lines of poetry on the bottle—surely you wrote them yourself?”

“I swear it was someone else! I merely heard it from a slovenly old Taoist!”

Zhao Hengyi denied it flatly.

“A Taoist who could compose lines like, ‘Who pities the bloom that lasts the longest? From spring’s dew to autumn’s wind’—he can’t be a proper Quanzhen priest.”

“Definitely not proper! I always thought that Taoist’s glances at the village daughters-in-law were a bit off. For you to guess it, County Lady, you truly are clever!”

With this tangle of glib excuses, Zhao Hengyi managed a temporary escape, turning to lean lazily against the boat’s railing and take in the lake view.

The nearby maids covered their mouths and giggled—no one had ever dared be so cheeky before the County Lady. But this husband of Sister Xiaoyu was indeed amusing, as entertaining as the six little ones.

Eager to change the subject, Zhao Hengyi grabbed the youngest, Miao Xiaofang. “Anyway, the Nine-Flower Jade Dew wasn’t my doing alone. My little sisters helped a great deal, and that big oaf out there did his part too.”

Whether true or not, better to shift everyone’s attention elsewhere for now.

“That’s right, Xiaofang helped too!”

“We went hungry all day making the Nine-Flower Jade Dew—brother-in-law wouldn’t let outsiders see.”

“Brother Erhu worked the hardest—he ended up howling on the ground, it was terrifying!”

The six little ones all began chattering about the time they made the perfume, quickly drawing everyone’s attention. Wang Erhu, who had played the role of human sifting machine, now puffed out his chest and kept winking at Miss Xiaotao beside him... What a hopeless fool!

Now that the topic had shifted to the Nine-Flower Jade Dew—a subject close to every woman’s heart—the group huddled together in lively discussion, the conversation soon meandering who knows where. Zhao Hengyi was saved!

Since arriving in the Yan Dynasty, not even when facing the barbarian armies had Zhao Hengyi found himself at such a loss as he did in Wei Linglan’s presence. Why should that be?

Surely it was because of her lofty status—after all, she was the emperor’s aunt. Who wouldn’t feel pressure in such company? That must be it!

As the atmosphere grew more animated, Wei Linglan could no longer single out Zhao Hengyi. Still, her eyes—bright and limpid as autumn water, always half-amused—would occasionally flit his way, clearly not forgetting this little rogue who had once spied on her.

In the gardens of Hibiscus Park, the Prefect watched a gathering of young talents flaunt their poetic skills and felt that scholars ought always be thus. Cheers of admiration rang out, and one after another, the carefully prepared poems were written on fine paper—truly a delight!

The only blemish was the absence of the proprietor of Nine-Flower Jade Dew, now all the rage in Jiangling City. That fellow Zhao Hengyi had brought an invitation, but his whereabouts were unknown.

Youngsters often lacked manners; Hibiscus Park was vast, and perhaps he’d simply lost his way.

The Prefect, ever fond of nurturing promising youth, lamented that Zhao Hengyi, a country lad with such narrow horizons, thought a mere baron of Dangyang could serve as a mighty patron—what folly!

The Prefect himself had business interests. To see something as fine as Nine-Flower Jade Dew in the hands of provincial warriors who knew nothing of trade was a waste!

He must speak to that country boy Zhao Hengyi face to face. Opportunities in life were few; a single misstep could mean ruin with no hope of recovery. He must not waste his own future!

Beaming, wine cup in hand, the Prefect listened as Chang Tingluo, son of the illustrious Chang family and famed poet of Jiangling, recited his work with much flourish, as if truly lost in the art.

Just then, the Prefect’s old attendant quietly approached and whispered a few words in his ear.

The Prefect’s smile never wavered, though his eyes flickered. When Chang Tingluo finished his poem, the Prefect offered a few words of praise, then deftly steered the conversation toward Zhao Hengyi.

“These days, two lines of poetry of unknown origin have been spreading widely through Jiangling: ‘Who pities the bloom that lasts the longest? From spring’s dew to autumn’s wind.’ Remarkable indeed. I was so taken, I sent an invitation to the talented author.”

At his words, all fell silent to listen. As for the supposed “unknown origin,” everyone understood the Prefect’s meaning—no one would dare mention so expensive a luxury as Nine-Flower Jade Dew in his presence.

“The staff in this garden reported that the young man arrived early but has yet to be seen. I assumed he was lost among the beauties of the park, and had simply lost track of time. But it turns out the Lady of Xiangcheng invited him aboard her pleasure boat—what a pity!”

Since Zhao Hengyi was summoned by the County Lady, it seemed the Prefect would miss out on seeing the owner of such refined goods. What a loss indeed!

Though Song San managed the Nine-Flower Jade Dew under the banner of the Baron of Dangyang, everyone in Jiangling knew, thanks to those two lines of poetry on the bottle, that this costly new perfume came from none other than that country tycoon, Zhao Hengyi!

Had that been all, Zhao Hengyi’s appearance at the poetry gathering might only have prompted some ridicule—reminding him what true scholar’s elegance was.

But when the Prefect revealed that this country merchant had actually boarded the County Lady’s pleasure boat, the crowd of young scholars were instantly united in jealousy.

The Lady of Xiangcheng was like a goddess—noble and unattainable. How could a mere country upstart like him deserve to share her company on the lake?

“The County Lady herself is nearby—what a rare occasion!” Chang Tingluo cried, his voice harsh and grating as he stood. “I hear her ladyship is a fellow lover of poetry. Why don’t we send our latest works to her boat and ask her judgment?”

“And since Master Zhao could pen lines like ‘Who pities the bloom that lasts the longest? From spring’s dew to autumn’s wind,’ he must be a veritable genius. It’s the perfect chance for us to see, firsthand, the literary talent of the true owner of Nine-Flower Jade Dew!”