Chapter Twenty-Nine: Winning the Beauty’s Heart

Two bands of music began to play. The young woman rose, offered a graceful salute to the assembled guests, and began to sing.

...

You are a youth born with charm, once possessing a romantic nature.
Whether with or without feelings, it all depends on your smiling face when you ask.
I am clever at heart, feigning severity in my expression, pretending to be stern in speech.
When it comes time to agree, how can I respond to that one question in my shyness?
When I see him, I feign indifference, but when we part, he lingers ever in my thoughts.
These shadows of flowers and moonlight, cold and lonely, illuminate his solitude, reflect my own isolation.

...

She had barely sung a verse before Wang Pu found himself quietly applauding her performance in his heart. The Kunshan water-milled tune bore a resemblance to the Huangmei and Yue opera of later generations, the notes clear and rounded, refreshing as a spring breeze. As she reached the most exquisite passages, the audience was utterly entranced. Wang Pu, too, was stirred by the woman’s shy, flirtatious glances, each filled with a thousand unspoken charms.

The Prefect of Suzhou, Wang Shicheng, could not help but show a hint of pride on his face.

When the song ended, the guests remained immersed in the beauty of her voice, reluctant to return to reality.

Suddenly, Wang Shicheng stood and, with a solemn gesture toward Wang Pu, addressed the singer: “Miss Yuanyuan, do you know who this general is?”

Yuanyuan? Wang Pu’s heart gave a jolt. Could she truly be the peerless beauty, Chen Yuanyuan?

If she was indeed Chen Yuanyuan, it would be no wonder—even men as infamous as the traitor Wu Sangui and the rebel king Li Zicheng had been captivated by her, ultimately leading to the tragedy of a crown lost for a beauty.

The young woman gazed at Wang Pu, her eyes shimmering, and responded sweetly, “If I am not mistaken, this must be General Wang Pu, the young hero who led a solitary force deep into Liaodong to capture the enemy chieftain alive.”

Wang Shicheng smiled, “Miss Yuanyuan is truly perceptive. Since you have guessed correctly, why not offer General Wang a toast?”

She replied with a delicate smile, “General Wang is a great hero of our time; it is only right that I pay my respects.” With that, she approached Wang Pu, accepted a cup of wine from her maid, filled it, and said, “General Wang, I, Chen Yuanyuan, offer you this cup.”

Chen Yuanyuan! It truly was her.

Wang Pu rose, smiling as he raised his cup. “Miss Yuanyuan, please.”

As the two were about to clink their cups, a figure suddenly stood up from a nearby table, raising his hand and calling out, “Hold!”

The crowd turned in surprise. Seated beside Wang Pu, Chang Yanling whispered, “Brother Wang, that’s Mao Xiang, courtesy name Bijian, a native of Rugao in Yangzhou, a famed scholar of Jiangnan.”

Mao Xiang—one of the Four Gentlemen of the Restoration Society?

Wang Shicheng, visibly displeased, demanded, “Mao Xiang, what is your intention?”

“I mean no offense to General Wang,” Mao Xiang replied, bowing. “It’s just that with fine wine, good food, and beautiful song and dance, it would be a shame to lack poetry for the occasion. Therefore, I propose: if General Wang wishes to drink Miss Yuanyuan’s toast, he must first compose a poem. What do you all think?”

No sooner had Mao Xiang spoken than several young gentlemen, his acquaintances, voiced their agreement. Their thoughts, much like Mao Xiang’s, were tinged with jealousy.

Wang Shicheng’s face darkened. Everyone knew that most generals of the Ming were illiterate brutes. Asking Wang Pu to compose a poem was like asking Zhang Fei to embroider—a deliberate attempt to embarrass him. Had he known, Wang Shicheng would never have invited Mao Xiang.

“Since Scholar Mao holds me in such high regard, I must accept and do my best,” Wang Pu replied, to Wang Shicheng’s surprise.

Wang Pu was well aware of Mao Xiang’s ill intent, but he was unbothered. Compose a poem? In his previous life, he had attended university, albeit a mediocre one, but with over three centuries of poetic knowledge at his disposal, could he not improvise a few verses? Why fear a scholar who had never passed the imperial exams?

Mao Xiang had not expected the general to accept so readily and replied awkwardly, “Then I shall listen attentively.”

Wang Pu turned to Chen Yuanyuan, smiling, and with a slight adaptation, recited a verse from Dream of the Red Chamber that praised Lin Daiyu:

Two slender brows, as if drawn in mist,
Eyes moist with unshed mirth.
A spring flush graces her cheeks,
Scarlet lips tempt as flame,
A trace of mock anger,
A hint of playful scorn.
At rest, she is a flower reflected in water;
In motion, a willow swaying in the breeze.
Her heart is keener than Bi Gan's,
Her beauty surpasses Xi Shi’s.

As soon as Wang Pu finished, Wang Shicheng applauded, “Splendid! Using General Wang’s verse to describe Miss Yuanyuan is most fitting. General, you are truly accomplished in both arms and letters. I am deeply impressed.”

Chang Yanling and Li Zushu followed suit, as did the local officials, all acclaiming the poem’s excellence. Though light and playful in tone, it was a rare gem, and as a tribute to Chen Yuanyuan, it was perfect.

Seeing Chen Yuanyuan’s cheeks flush with shyness and delight as she gazed at Wang Pu, Mao Xiang felt a deep pang of regret. He had hoped to humiliate Wang Pu before her, but instead had unwittingly helped the general win her favor.

Chen Yuanyuan raised her cup again, saying softly, “General, please.”

Wang Pu smiled, “After you, Miss Yuanyuan.”

They touched cups; Wang Pu drank his in one, while Chen Yuanyuan, concealing her face with her sleeve, sipped delicately.

The crowd cheered, with Chang Yanling and Li Zushu making the most ruckus.

“Haha, excellent!” Wang Shicheng applauded and rose. “I have a proposal, if I may.”

Once the room quieted, he looked from Wang Pu to Chen Yuanyuan and said with a smile, “It is often said that heroes love beauties, and beauties honor heroes. General Wang is a hero of our age, and Miss Yuanyuan the fairest in Jiangnan. I wish to take this opportunity to unite you in a match—what do you say?”

A blush blossomed on Chen Yuanyuan’s cheeks. She glanced at Wang Pu, then lowered her head shyly, not daring to meet his gaze. Yet her demeanor revealed all: she was more than willing, even if only to be his concubine.

Her boldness in expressing her feelings was shaped by the culture of Jiangnan at the end of the Ming. The literati regarded the company of courtesans as an elegant pursuit, and stories of scholars marrying famous courtesans were common. Over time, a tradition developed among the entertainers and courtesans of Jiangnan: when they found a suitable match, they dared to confess and pursue their own happiness.

Wang Pu, though not a scholar, was young and handsome. The poem he had just recited proved he was no mere soldier, but a talented youth accomplished in both literature and martial arts. On top of that, he had just earned grand merit for the court and was now a celebrated hero.

Since ancient times, beauties have honored heroes—not mere words, but truth.

How could Chen Yuanyuan not be moved by such a man?

Seeing her expression, Mao Xiang and the other young gentlemen pressed their hands to their foreheads in despair. All eyes turned to Wang Pu. Chen Yuanyuan’s willingness was plain to see—now it was up to him to decide whether to accept her.

Had it been one of the scholarly gentlemen—such as Mao Xiang, burning with jealousy—they might have refused her, constrained by social and moral pressures. Affairs were one thing, but to actually marry a courtesan required courage, for it could damage one’s reputation and prospects.

Most present expected Wang Pu to politely decline, having just achieved great merit and about to rise in the court. To risk it all for a courtesan would be foolish.

But Wang Pu was a man from modern times. The social and moral constraints of the past meant nothing to him. A beauty like Chen Yuanyuan, were she born in the twenty-first century, would have captivated the world. To turn away such a woman was to invite the wrath of heaven.

With all eyes upon him, Wang Pu said nothing at first. He poured himself a cup of wine, drank, then offered the cup to Chen Yuanyuan. She understood his meaning, her face glowing with joy and shyness. She sipped from the cup and returned it to him.

Wang Pu laughed, drained the cup, then declared in a clear voice, “With Lord Wang and all you esteemed guests as witnesses, today I pledge myself to Miss Yuanyuan with this cup of wine. When I return to the capital and have an audience with His Majesty, I shall return to Jiangnan, spread red felt upon the road, and bring her home in a grand wedding procession!”

The guests were astounded—not only that Wang Pu accepted Chen Yuanyuan without hesitation, but also at his public promise.

In the Ming dynasty, marriage was a matter of great formality—there were strict distinctions between taking a wife and accepting a concubine. By promising to marry Chen Yuanyuan with all the honor of a principal wife—red felt on the road, eight-carriage sedan—Wang Pu declared that she would be his legitimate spouse, not a concubine or secondary wife. This meant she could, in time, receive an imperial title.

For a woman of her background, it was beyond imagining.

Chen Yuanyuan’s gaze, though shy, now held a gentle tenderness as she looked at Wang Pu. Though she cared little for imperial honors, she was deeply moved that Wang Pu would publicly vow to marry her as his wife. In Jiangnan, affairs between scholars and courtesans were common, but true devotion was rare; few would marry a courtesan as their principal wife.

Though she did not yet fully know Wang Pu’s character, his bold public promise showed he was a man of true courage.

“Well said!” Wang Shicheng laughed. “Let this banquet be the betrothal feast for General Wang and Miss Yuanyuan. Allow me to offer my congratulations!”

Chang Yanling also rose to congratulate him, “Congratulations, brother, on winning such a beauty!”

The other officials of Suzhou offered their blessings as well.

“Thank you, thank you,” Wang Pu replied, cupping his hands. Chen Yuanyuan stepped to his right, bowing to the guests beside him, the picture of a newly-wed couple receiving well-wishers. Li Zushu called out, “Brother, your new sister-in-law is close friends with many of the renowned beauties of Qinhuai in the capital. Don’t forget your little brother when you’re basking in romance!”

“You rascal,” Wang Pu laughed. “Very well, I’ll remember. I’ll play matchmaker for you when the time comes.”