Chapter Thirty-Six: Fine Wine Enters the Imperial Court

"Writing reflects the heart; one should not blindly pursue flowery language or pile on excessive allusions. Such writing becomes nothing more than a tool for vanity. Many successful candidates merely write to cater to the preferences of the examiners."

"During the last capital examination, someone studied the tastes of both the examiners and the Emperor, wrote a beautifully worded eulogy, and ended up as the top scholar. Therefore, we must make changes to our monthly examinations before this year's autumn trials."

Xie Dashen looked solemn. "We shall not publish the rankings. After grading, we will simply assign marks of 'Excellent,' 'Good,' 'Fair,' or 'Poor.' What does everyone think?"

Wang Yuanhui was the first to react. It was obvious that Xie Dashen felt he had lost face and was regretting the annulment of the engagement. After a moment of contemplation, Wang did not speak but looked toward Ye Xiren.

Ye Xiren set down the examination paper in his hand. "This is a good thing. Monthly rankings make those at the top arrogant, which in turn affects their performance in the autumn trials."

Once he finished, Wang Yuanhui, Liu Hanqing, and the others voiced their agreement. Ye Xiren was also aware that Xie Dashen had personally approached the Ye family to break off the engagement. He glanced at the man, a flicker of disdain shining in his eyes.

He then turned to Liu Hanqing. "Hanqing, as the head of the academy, it is inappropriate for me to be the sole witness for your acceptance of Ye You'an as your closing disciple. I suggest that the three of us—myself, Scholar Xie, and Yuanhui—act as joint witnesses. What do you think?"

Wang Yuanhui and Liu Hanqing understood the underlying situation and immediately nodded in agreement.

"It would be my honor to serve as a witness!" Xie Dashen replied without hesitation. He had been fretting over how to strike up a conversation with Ye Wuji; acting as a witness was the perfect opportunity. He immediately shot a look of gratitude toward Ye Xiren, effectively owing him a favor. After all, his daughter was already well past the age for marriage, and he could not afford to delay any longer.

***

The distillery began operations. Manager Liu arrived at the scene immediately. He specifically instructed Ye Xiu that he was collaborating with a prominent figure, emphasizing the need to rush production; they must have at least five thousand catties in stock before the start of summer. Only then did Ye Xiu learn that the Jinling Winery was opening a branch in the capital.

By the time of the Grain Rain solar term, one thousand catties of spirits were shipped to the capital. In addition to the "Forget-Sorrow White," there was a peerless brew on offer. Each bottle bore three characters. Depending on how many bottles one purchased, one could collect a complete, exquisite poem. This had the high-ranking officials and nobles of the capital flocking to the shop.

"No matter the cost per pot, you must get me this wine!"
"I am attending an outing; I must have the Imperial Jade Nectar wine to drink!"
"I cannot lose face; I must also be able to recite poetry!"
"I have been drinking for a lifetime; how can I fall behind others? Buy it for me at once!"

In just a few days, the threshold of the Jinling Winery's capital branch was nearly worn flat. As sales boomed, various poems began circulating throughout the capital. Some even reached the palace.

Emperor Zhao Xuanhe of the Gaozong era was not one for state affairs; as an emperor, he was mediocre. While other emperors strove to govern well, he detested state business and prioritized literature. He was well-versed in poetry, music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.

At that moment, he was in the Imperial Garden, tasting wine and admiring the flowers. When the poetic mood struck, he naturally had to wield his brush. But for some reason, the more he looked at the young eunuch grinding the ink, the more annoyed he became.

Zhao Xuanhe snorted. "Go to the Censorate and bring that old man here."

The eunuch hurried to the Censorate and brought back Ye Tianxiang. As the eunuch tried to report his arrival, Zhao Xuanhe—who was currently brewing his emotions—was interrupted by Ye Tianxiang. Walking to the desk, Ye Tianxiang lit a stick of orchid-scented incense, laid out the rice paper, and began grinding the ink for the Emperor.

The Emperor acted as if he did not see Ye Tianxiang, lifted his brush, and wrote a poem:

"The bright moon of Qin, the pass of Han,
Ten thousand miles of long march, yet none returned.
If only the Flying General of Long City were here,
He would not let the Hu horses cross the Yin Mountains."

Others might have seen this and cried, "Your Majesty is brilliant! Such a wonderful, divine poem!" But Ye Tianxiang was different. After scrutinizing it, his expression grew stern, his voice dropping low:

"Your Majesty, to write with the most ordinary words yet convey such majestic and broad-minded power—the artistic conception is profound and stirring. Truly, you are a divine talent. If this poem were recited at the borders, it would undoubtedly ignite the courage of the soldiers and instill confidence in defeating the enemy."

Hearing this, Zhao Xuanhe handed the brush to Ye Tianxiang. "Care for a verse?"

"Your Majesty, this sinful subject is of the sorrowful school; I fear I might dampen your refined mood," Ye Tianxiang said, bowing with humble courtesy.

"If I tell you to write, then write." The Emperor set down the brush. "What? Do you want me to grind the ink for you?"

"Forgive my insolence, Your Majesty." Ye Tianxiang took the brush. "Then I shall present my amateur work; if it is lacking, I hope Your Majesty will offer your corrections."

Once finished, Ye Tianxiang moved the brush with divine inspiration, and a poem corresponding to "Out of the Fortress" appeared on the paper:

"A thousand miles of beacon smoke over a mass grave,
In a chaotic world, the lonely spirits go unvisited.
The silent heavens, the ink and brush are cold;
With a pen as a blade, I repay the spring and autumn in blood."

"Old man, you can barely save yourself, yet you still think of remonstrating." The Emperor glanced at Ye Tianxiang, his eyes deep with meaning. "Do you know who wrote this?"

Ye Tianxiang paused, full of suspicion. "Was it not composed by Your Majesty?"

"Prince Yan's heir, Zhao Wei, sent me four pots of wine. This poem came from the paper on the wine bottle." Zhao Xuanhe intentionally kept him in suspense, watching Ye Tianxiang with amusement. "This wine comes from Jinling."

"I never imagined there was such a talent in Jinling." Ye Tianxiang noticed the bottle on the round table. "Does Your Majesty intend to summon him to the capital to test his abilities?"

"No, no, no," Zhao Xuanhe shook his head. "I can see anyone, but I cannot see him. I admire his talent and would gladly be his literary friend. Moreover, his status is too particular; I cannot break the rules of the court or ruin the refined pleasure between literary friends."

Ye Tianxiang felt a surge of emotion. "To be called a friend by Your Majesty is a stroke of fortune for this man."

"Draft an imperial edict for me," the Emperor said, his voice suddenly turning serious. "Raise the status of the Jinling scholars by one rank."

*Hiss!*

Ye Tianxiang gasped. Just because of a pot of wine and a poem, the Emperor was raising the status of the Jinling scholars by one rank? However, those who served near the Emperor were the most astute of the astute.

Ye Tianxiang tentatively asked, "Your Majesty, with the autumn trials approaching, should we offer this person any special care?"

"My literary friend possesses exceptional talent; naturally, it must be fair. There is no need for special care. But I want to see every one of his monthly examination papers and his final exam essays." Zhao Xuanhe was in high spirits. "If he earns the title of *Juren*, the day he arrives in the capital, I shall travel in disguise to personally welcome him."

Ye Tianxiang also marveled at the luck of the man who brewed the wine. "To make friends through literature, to follow one's heart through literature. That his talent caught the Emperor's eye without his own knowledge is quite interesting. If he succeeds in becoming a *Jinshi* one day, the meeting of monarch and subject will surely become a tale for the ages."

"Old man, this poem actually serves as a warning to me," Zhao Xuanhe said, his voice becoming profoundly deep. "Having not engaged in war for many years, I have gradually lost the power to deter the Jiannu. They are now colluding with the tribes of the grasslands, ready to invade our Great Qian borders at any time. I want to fight this time—to strike hard—but the court has such a massive deficit, and as for military funding..."

Ye Tianxiang took a deep breath and asked tentatively, "Your Majesty, may this sinful subject once again share your burden?"