Chapter 21: I Challenge the Fourth Prince!
"What a bold young man. Going first carries quite a bit of risk, doesn't it?"
"Hmph. You wouldn't say that if you knew who he was."
"Ah, I remember now! Geng Mingzhong, tenth place on last year's Grade A roster. I never expected the first one to step up would be him. Hiss..."
As Geng Mingzhong took his place, his identity inevitably came to light, drawing gasps of astonishment from many in the audience.
The Grade A roster was the highest tier of the imperial examinations. Securing tenth place on that list was a truly formidable feat.
Many people clicked their tongues in disbelief. The tenth-place finisher on the Grade A roster right out of the gate? How was anyone else supposed to compete?
Wasn't this a blatant attempt to bully the Crown Prince of Donglan?
"Heh, I'm afraid the Donglan heir apparent has met his match this time..."
In the front row of the venue, Emperor Chu and his ministers exchanged glances, growing more and more intrigued by the contest.
A well-matched battle was far more entertaining to watch.
Yet soon enough, they would realize how terribly wrong they were.
Under the gaze of the crowd, Song Juran rose calmly, cupped his fists in return, and carried a bearing all his own:
"I wonder what questions Brother Geng has in mind. If it is within my humble abilities, I shall certainly answer without reservation."
"It is not a particularly difficult question, actually."
Geng Mingzhong framed the question first to prevent the other man from failing to answer and blaming him for setting an overly tricky problem, then declared in a clear voice:
"I have long heard that Your Highness has traveled far and wide seeking knowledge. Yet when it comes to scholarship, the greatest danger is knowing the *what* without knowing the *why*.
"Therefore, I wish to ask Your Highness: What is learning? And what is the Dao?"
"It has begun! True to form for an elite scion of our nobility, Brother Mingzhong's question touches the very roots of scholarship. Only a master with profound enlightenment could answer it. He has truly come well-prepared!"
As soon as Geng Mingzhong spoke, a stir rippled through the ranks of the aristocratic youths.
Several among them who fancied themselves exceptionally talented openly declared the question too difficult. Not only was it abstract, but it lacked any set formula, making it hard even for them to answer.
Nearby, Xu Feilong broke out in a cold sweat, whispering anxiously to Chu Ying: "Brother Chu, you heard that! The question is this hard—I'm afraid the Donglan Crown Prince is going to lose..."
"Don't be hasty, Fat Dragon. You and I shall simply wait and see."
Chu Ying smiled, calmly raising his wine cup without a trace of worry.
Quite simply, he trusted his own eye for character.
If Song Juran couldn't even handle this first hurdle, his position as the heir apparent of Donglan probably wouldn't last long either.
Sure enough.
Song Juran paused in thought for a moment before replying with a smile:
"The sages of antiquity said: 'In the pursuit of learning, one adds to it daily; in the pursuit of the Dao, one diminishes it daily. Diminish and diminish further, until one reaches non-action.' Thus, we can see that non-action is precisely the Dao, and the Dao is the foundation of all learning."
"Oh?"
Many celebrated officials and Confucian scholars present shifted in their seats, silently exchanging glances.
This Donglan heir apparent did not seem simple at all.
"Non-action, indeed! Standing before the temple of the First Sage, how can you dare to advocate such heterodoxy?"
Yet Geng Mingzhong seemed oblivious, thinking he had caught a flaw in his opponent's argument, and immediately challenged him.
"Brother Geng is mistaken. The Great Dao numbers three thousand, yet all roads lead to the same destination—how can there be any talk of heterodoxy?
"Moreover, down to the present day, has the doctrine of the First Sage ever failed to encompass all schools of thought and draw upon their strengths? Can that too be considered heterodoxy?"
Song Juran's words left even the great Confucian scholars present unable to find a single flaw, and they nodded in approval.
It was quite simple: to reject the current doctrines was to undermine the very foundation of their own livelihood. Who would be foolish enough to do such a thing?
Geng Mingzhong froze. He had assumed that invoking the First Sage would render him invincible.
Instead, Song Juran had broken the riddle by turning to the evolution of the Sage's own teachings, rendering all his carefully prepared traps useless and catching him completely off guard.
Yet with so many eyes watching, he was given no time to think and had to press on with the debate regardless:
"Very well... even if what you say has reason, what non-action advocates is practically doing nothing at all. With such passive indolence and a total lack of drive, how can one pursue learning? How can one ask after the Dao?"
"Brother Geng is mistaken once more. So-called non-action does not mean doing nothing; rather, it means acting without artifice. One who acts does not act blindly, but conforms to the laws of nature and heaven, so that everything they do will inevitably bear fruit... Would Brother Geng not agree?"
"This... this..."
Geng Mingzhong was left speechless. Only then did he realize that in his haste, he had actually misinterpreted the classics of the sages.
That being the case, the outcome of this contest was already obvious.
Before the eyes of the crowd, Geng Mingzhong lost all color in his face, looking as desolate as if he had lost his parents. Despite the bitter cold, sweat poured in streams down his cheeks.
He had never imagined he would lose—and lose so swiftly!
It made no sense! It was impossible!
He was the tenth-place finisher on the Grade A roster, the pride of the aristocratic youth! How could he lose to a talented scholar from a small state?
"Does Brother Geng wish to continue questioning?"
Song Juran's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"I..."
Geng Mingzhong looked at the gentle, refined young man before him. For some reason, Chu Ying's confident face flashed through his mind.
That fellow had said he would lose, and as it turned out, his words had come true.
Overwhelmed with shame and fury, Geng Mingzhong finally lowered his proud head and rasped, "Your talent is superior... I have lost."
"You flatter me."
Without a trace of triumphant pride, Song Juran gave a cupped-fist salute, his gaze sweeping past him to the seats below:
"Is there anyone else who wishes to offer instruction?"
"I am Xue Cheng of Yishan, a fellow metropolitan graduate from last year's examinations. I have come specifically to seek your guidance."
Another talented scholar stood up, full of high spirits:
"Just now, Your Excellency praised the concept of 'action without artifice.' Yet I do not understand: one must remember that the common folk are ignorant. If those in authority merely practice non-action, how can they ensure the people will not run amok? How can the realm ever enjoy long-term peace and stability?
"Having long resided in Donglan, a land bordering rivers and seas, Your Excellency surely understands the principle that when floodwaters accumulate, they inevitably overflow and cause disaster?"
"Your words are reasonable, Your Excellency. Yet the Sages teach that human nature is inherently good. If the common people misbehave, it must be because the channels between high and low are blocked and popular sentiment is not properly vented. Governing the people is like regulating rivers: it is not about doing nothing, but about guiding them according to the circumstances, promoting good while avoiding evil, and applying moral transformation. How could there ever be talk of overflowing floods..."
Song Juran continued to respond with calm composure, speaking fluently and eloquently.
Yet Geng Mingzhong had no heart to appreciate such a brilliant debate and walked back to his seat in a daze.
Scarcely had he sat down when a gloating voice sounded from behind:
"Oh, the tenth place on the Grade A roster is truly formidable! To make a fool of oneself in front of so many people and still remain so nonchalant—such a thick skin is truly admirable, hehe."
"You... shut your mouth!"
Geng Mingzhong's face turned ashen. He whipped his head around to glare at Xu Feilong, letting out a low, beast-like growl from deep in his throat.
"What? Unconvinced? If you don't want me to speak, I'll speak all the more."
The fat man was not frightened by his threats and continued his taunts: "Didn't someone boast of world-shaking talent? Turns out Brother Chu was spot on—you're nothing more than a stuffed shirt. Am I right, Brother Chu?"
"Fat Dragon, that's not right of you. Seeing as the man lost so miserably, how can you have the heart to rub salt in his wounds?" Chu Ying reproached.
"Then what should I say?"
"Say this."
Chu Ying held up the jade pendant in his hand and smiled at Geng Mingzhong: "Many thanks to Brother Geng for his generosity and public spirit today. We are deeply moved by your righteousness, and we shall certainly keep it carved in our hearts."
"That's right, that's right! Many thanks, Brother Geng. Next time there's such a good deed, remember to notify us."
Xu Feilong nodded in agreement, practically trying to anger the man to death.
"You... you just wait! One day... one day...!"
Geng Mingzhong trembled uncontrollably, his face twisted with rage. He almost coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Not only had he disgraced himself in public this time, but he had also lost his family heirloom jade pendant—a case of losing the battle and the bride.
Still, the feud between the two sides was now thoroughly cemented.
Chu Ying couldn't care less; he was already banished anyway, so he could just shake off his dust and leave when the time came.
It was just a pity for Fat Dragon, who would likely be left behind in the Capital to bear the other man's retaliation alone.
Suddenly, a tide of gasps drew Chu Ying's attention.
"Good heavens! Six people have gone up in a row—including last year's second-place metropolitan graduate—and they've all been wiped out!"
"Is this Donglan Crown Prince truly so profoundly learned? So many people are no match for him?"
"Even the second-place finisher has crashed and burned. I'm afraid nobody else will dare to go up now..."
This fellow really didn't disappoint... Chu Ying watched Song Juran's high-spirited figure, silently raising his wine cup to drain it in one gulp, much like someone celebrating a friend's success.
By now, Song Juran had won six consecutive matches, striking such terror into the crowd that no one dared step forward, leaving even the sovereign and ministers of Great Chu in silence.
Emperor Chu's expression had turned quite ugly as well.
He had arranged the banquet to display the might of Great Chu.
Yet now it seemed he had merely lifted a stone only to drop it on his own feet.
Song Juran waited a moment longer, and seeing that still no one stepped forward, he stepped out of his seat, bowed with cupped hands toward Emperor Chu, and requested:
"Your Majesty, it appears your esteemed realm's scholars are unwilling to offer further instruction. As it happens, I have long admired the talent of the Fourth Prince of Great Chu. Today, by a fortunate coincidence, I beg Your Majesty's gracious permission to challenge His Highness the Fourth Prince!"
What?!
As soon as these words were spoken, the entire assembly exploded!
"The Fourth Prince?! Is that the Highness who wrote *Qingyu An*?"
"It must be! That man is unfathomable. I suppose only the equally brilliant Fourth Highness can outshine him."
"I never imagined he would dare challenge the Fourth Prince! A duel between masters—we're in for a real show now!"
Necks craned in eager anticipation.
The ultimate showdown was finally about to begin...
***
Chapter 22: Li Kui or Li Gui?
Following the ferment of the *Qingyu An* incident over the past few days, the public had long since acknowledged the Fourth Prince's literary talent.
The mood of the crowd was instantly ignited, and everyone grew eagerly excited.
"Interesting. The Donglan heir apparent is challenging the Fourth Prince of Great Chu. This prince is rather looking forward to seeing how Old Four performs."
Among the princes' seats, the Second Prince, Chu Zhe, cast a meaningful smile toward Chu Hao, who was dozing off nearby and remained completely unaware that he had just been challenged.
On his other side, another prince leaned in and whispered, "Second Imperial Brother, do you really think Old Four can handle this Song Juran?
"Why do I always feel that, given Old Four's meager amount of ink, he doesn't look like the sort who could write that piece of *Qingyu An*?"
"As the saying goes, you can't judge a book by its cover. What if Old Four is simply keeping his true brilliance hidden?" Chu Zhe smiled and shook his head.
"Him? A mere gambler, keeping his brilliance hidden?"
"That's why this is an opportunity—one can see the plain truth, can't one?"
While this discussion was underway, Emperor Chu was observing Song Juran. After a moment, he spoke: "Donglan heir apparent, are you certain you wish to challenge the Fourth Prince?"
"I will not conceal it from Your Majesty: I am well aware of the gap between myself and the Fourth Highness, and it was only after long deliberation that I mustered the courage to make this decision."
Hiding nothing of his intentions, Song Juran bowed once more in salute: "As the saying goes, pursuing learning is like sailing against the current: if one does not advance, one drops back. Only by meeting difficulties head-on can one reach the day of true understanding. I earnestly beg Your Majesty to grant my request."
Emperor Chu was silent for a moment. "It is not that I am lacking in human sympathy, but you have already fought six rounds; body and mind are inevitably fatigued. If I were to send the Fourth Prince into battle at this moment, I fear it might be criticized as an unfair victory."
Song Juran grew anxious. "Your Majesty, I am not tired at all! On the contrary, having fought six men, I am currently at the very peak of my form. I beg Your Majesty to grant permission!"
He was riding the momentum of victory, and he deeply feared that once this surge subsided, he would lose the confidence to challenge Chu Ying.
At this, an official from the Hanlin Academy stood up and said, "Your Majesty, it is rare to find such sincere determination in the Donglan heir apparent. Why not grant him this opportunity?"
"Indeed. Your Majesty might as well fulfill the Donglan heir apparent's wish. This battle might well become a celebrated tale," many other officials chimed in.
"Since all you ministers say so... very well. Donglan heir apparent, I shall make an exception this once and give you this chance."
Emperor Chu finally consented to Song Juran's request, though in Chu Ying's eyes, that response earned a trace of derision.
These Great Chu monarchs and ministers were truly hypocritical.
Clearly dying to redeem their face immediately, they still insisted on making such a grand roundabout display for the sake of appearances, making it look as though they were bestowing a favor upon someone.
Overjoyed, Song Juran immediately bowed low: "Many thanks, Your Majesty!"
"Mm."
Emperor Chu gave a slight nod, exchanged glances with his ministers, and commanded: "Old Four! It is rare for the Donglan heir apparent to hold you in such high regard—will you not come out and accompany him in verifying your scholarship... Old Four? Old Four!"
Only after being called several times was Chu Hao finally jolted awake. He scrambled up in a panic and bowed to Emperor Chu: "Imperial Father, this son is here! This son is here! I wonder what task Imperial Father has called me for?"
"Wipe away your drool. Sleeping out here in the open—it's a wonder you can even manage that."
Emperor Chu cast a disgusted glance at the corner of the young man's mouth and, too lazy to bicker further, pointed at Song Juran. "The Donglan heir apparent wants to spar with you on scholarship, and I have already agreed."
"What? Spa... spar... spar on scholarship? Didn't Consort Jin say it was just going to be a meal?"
Chu Hao stammered out his reply, the expression on his face a masterpiece.
*My dear fellow, do you have a head full of question marks right now?*
Such was his state of mind at that moment.
It was his own cleverness backfiring that had caused Consort Jin, fearing she would pressure him too much, to withhold the literary debate segment from him, resulting in this current bewildered scene.
Yet not only was he dumbfounded, but Song Juran was equally stunned.
This sleepy-looking fellow... was the Fourth Prince of Great Chu?!
I've read plenty of books—don't try to trick me!
If *he* was the Fourth Prince, then who on earth was that fellow at the Taibai Tower the other night?
Though he didn't know what had gone wrong, Song Juran couldn't help stepping forward to ask: "Your Majesty, is this gentleman truly His Highness the Fourth Prince?"
***
Chapter 23: You Want Me to Write a Poem?
"What? Have you and Old Four not met already? Didn't you even help him publicize *Qingyu An*?" Emperor Chu asked, confusion written on his face.
"Your Majesty, actually that *Qingyu An*..."
That *Qingyu An* was certainly not written by this man... Song Juran felt a strange surge of anger, a sudden possibility dawning on him.
Perhaps that night he and his sister had truly misunderstood; that Brother Chu was not the Fourth Prince at all, but merely someone sent to receive them.
Even so, as a prince's subordinate, could he openly misappropriate someone else's literary work?
How was that any different from a common bandit?
It was practically an insult to *Qingyu An*!
For Song Juran, who had studied the classics since childhood, this was entirely unacceptable, and his impression of Chu Hao plummeted straight to the bottom.
Yet he was not entirely lacking in discretion.
After all, the other man was a prince. If he exposed him right here in front of the monarch and ministers of Great Chu, it would undoubtedly be a slap to Emperor Chu's face, and the consequences would likely be severe.
With this thought, Song Juran suppressed his anger, forced the truth back down, and bowed deeply with cupped hands:
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. I have suddenly realized that I am no match for the Fourth Highness, and a rash challenge would only bring humiliation upon myself. I earnestly beg Your Majesty to permit me to concede defeat."
He was a man of principle; sparring with a contemptuous thief of other people's fruits was a humiliation to him.
Even if it meant admitting defeat, he refused to continue this match.
"What? Concede defeat?!"
The venue erupted once more. No one could understand what madness had seized Song Juran.
Just a moment ago, he was loudly demanding a challenge against the Fourth Prince. Now that the man had stepped forward, he wanted to forfeit? Did he still understand the rules? Who acted like this?
As for Chu Hao, who had just figured out what was going on, he breathed a massive sigh of relief. He certainly didn't believe his own literary talent could measure up to this Donglan Crown Prince who had just defeated six opponents in a row.
If he actually had to step out and fight, the consequences were unimaginable.
Wiping away a cold sweat, he chuckled: "Imperial Father, since the Donglan heir apparent has already conceded, and this son happens to have no wish to force others, in my view, perhaps this matter should..."
"Do you take this for a child's game!"
Emperor Chu's expression darkened, interrupting him on the spot and frightening Chu Hao into shrinking his neck and muttering that he dared not speak further.
Anyone with discerning eyes could see that while Emperor Chu seemed to be reprimanding Chu Hao, he was actually speaking to Song Juran.
By this point, the Donglan side had already won six matches in a row, causing them to lose a massive amount of face. How could Emperor Chu possibly let it go without recovering his prestige? Did Great Chu want its dignity or not?
You swaggered and blew your horn, and now you want to run away? Not a chance.
Emperor Chu turned his gaze back to Song Juran, his eyes narrowing slightly, his tone carrying an unangered majesty: "Donglan heir apparent, do you know what it means when a monarch says a word and does not take it back? I ask you once more: are you certain you wish to forfeit?"
"Your Majesty..." Song Juran's face stiffened, and he hurriedly lowered his head to plead guilty. "This subject dares not. This subject knows his wrong. Please forgive me, Your Majesty."
"You have committed no crime; how am I to forgive you? Moreover, I didn't set a rule beforehand prohibiting forfeiture. If anything, the blame lies with me." Emperor Chu continued his pressure.
"Your Majesty is without fault; the fault lies with this subject. It is because I am young and ignorant that I failed to weigh what is important..."
Song Juran felt as though an invisible mountain of a thousand pounds pressed down upon him, and a fine layer of sweat had already sprung up on his forehead.
At that moment, an official caught a signal from Emperor Chu's eyes, stood up with a smile, and said: "Heh, the Donglan heir apparent needn't be so nervous. With His Majesty's breadth of mind, how could he possibly stoop to your level?
"However, since you have spoken of conceding, you must be tired. How about this, Your Majesty—I have a suggestion."
He turned back to Emperor Chu. "Why not have the Donglan heir apparent and the Fourth Highness test each other with a poem? That way, it won't consume much energy, nor will it delay his rest. How does that sound?"
"A sound suggestion." Emperor Chu nodded, casting a deep look at Song Juran. "I wonder what the Donglan heir apparent thinks of this?"
"This subject... submits entirely to Your Majesty's decree." Naturally, Song Juran did not dare refuse.
"Very well. Since you are somewhat tired, I shall not take advantage of you."
Emperor Chu smiled, raising a finger to point at the snowdrifts around the plaza. "Keep it simple. Let snow be the theme. Old Four, you compose the first one for us to hear."
"Ah?"
Chu Hao, who had thought he had narrowly escaped disaster, turned pale with fright. He pointed at himself and stammered: "You... you want me to write a poem?"
***
Chapter 24: Who on Earth Is the Author?
"Imperial Father, do you... really want this son to go first?"
Chu Hao wore an expression as if he had swallowed a fly, clinging to one last shred of wishful thinking.
When it came to gambling, card games, or rolling dice, he was a first-rate expert. But when it came to composing poetry...
The waters ran far too deep—was this something an elite rake like him could handle?
"What? You can write a piece like *Qingyu An*, yet you're going to let a little snow-themed poem stump you?"
Emperor Chu felt that the topic he had set was quite common, and refusing to believe Chu Hao couldn't even manage this much, he urged:
"Enough! If I tell you to write, then write. Why so much chatter?"
"Yes... this son... this son obeys."
Chu Hao wanted to cry tears with no tears to shed, and could only pray to the God of Gamblers for protection.