23. Give Old Zhang a Push

Although the little princess says some odd things, she is undeniably cute, and when someone is that adorable, many things can be overlooked. As for this so-called grand gathering at Pavilion of Prince Teng that Xia Lin is supposed to attend, it is essentially just a repeat of the events that took place with the young prince.

Honestly, once or twice is fine, but any more than that becomes rather tedious. Yet, considering the constraints of this era, it is understandable; they have few entertainment options and limited ways to socialize. One certainly could not expect these scholars to go camping in the wild or have a barbecue by the river—that would be seen as an affront to their refinement.

Since barbecuing and camping are off the table, the only remaining "fun" activity is going to a high-end hostess club, where the city’s top courtesans line up, and you keep the one you like while sending the others away.

However, that seems unlikely as well. Currently, the courtesans are still booked via auction; one could hardly expect a prince to stand there shouting bids for a courtesan—a prince could not afford such a loss of dignity.

Let’s put it this way: since arriving here, Xia Lin has learned that regardless of whether someone is a top-tier courtesan, as long as they work in such places, they are generally not truly respected. Even if they are world-renowned, in the eyes of the upper crust, they are still just "birds." Engaging in debauchery with them is considered a step down, let alone taking one home as a wife—that would invite decades of mockery and be treated as a laughingstock even after one’s death.

Throughout history, there have been many righteous courtesans and many women capable of managing great families, but there has never been a "bird" capable of presiding over a noble household.

Therefore, even the most elite courtesan is considered filthy and beneath contempt by these princes and scions of great families. It is only those penniless, pretentious poets who love to linger in such places.

Like that scoundrel Zhang Zhongchun.

But there is no helping it; the little princess insists he go. Thinking of how confined and dull the little princess's life must be, this sort of event is likely the highest-class spectacle she can access. Besides, she is just a child, and her competitive nature is perfectly natural; her current state is quite fitting for her age.

He will just have to play along. It is nothing more than transcribing a few poems and verses, letting everyone see what it means to stand on the shoulders of giants. Besides, going there is not necessarily a bad thing; at the very least, he can get a better sense of what the intellectuals here are like.

After all, the literary atmosphere in Jiangxi is thriving. Prince Teng and Old Guo place great importance on education; the illiteracy rate in Jiangxi is only seventy percent, a staggering figure even for a metropolis like Luoyang. Moreover, this time, scholars from across the country have gathered to admire the Pavilion of Prince Teng and the Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng. It should be a grand event, surely of higher quality than the one the young prince held in Yangzhou.

Oh… perhaps not necessarily. The young prince’s event coincided with the spring examinations, so there were plenty of scholars there, too.

In that case, he might as well go to see Princess Xunyang. Since the little princess said she would give that cousin to him, what could be the harm in going to see his own princess?

He puts on a sharp outfit, buys a sandalwood-framed folding fan, and dabs a bit of jasmine-scented powder on his skin. A dashing, respectable figure emerges.

"Hurry up! The little princess has been waiting for you downstairs for ages. You’re still primping and preening—are you actually planning to become a prince consort?" Old Zhang urges from the side. Xia Lin, however, continues to tidy himself up at a leisurely pace, ensuring even his hair is meticulously combed. He really does look the part.

When they finally descend the stairs, the little princess freezes. She never expected that Xia Lin, even without styling, was already incredibly handsome, but after this effort, he carries an air that is both masculine and ethereal. Bright, fresh, and dashing, the literary description of "as handsome as Pan An" suddenly feels like a tangible reality.

His skin is not as pale as it was when they last met, but he seems to have grown taller, making him look sturdy rather than delicate. Perhaps due to his growth spurt, his features have become more defined than they were in Yangzhou, giving him the air of a brilliant but mischievous top student from high school.

Today, the little princess is no slouch, either. Though she is still just a young sprout, she is, after all, of noble blood, and her natural genetics are a cut above the rest. Besides, as the saying goes, "clothes make the person." Today, the little princess is exactly that. Though summer attire is light, her emerald green silk blouse paired with a flower-patterned Sichuan-embroidered bodice and a light, flowing gauze skirt makes her look incredibly dainty and adorable. With two kingfisher-and-lotus gold hairpins and a golden phoenix step-shake ornament in her hair, every breeze makes her look like a fairy from a painting or a spirit butterfly among flowers, making it impossible not to be fond of her.

"Wow! You actually dressed up today."

"You too."

Only then does Old Zhang realize he was the naive one. It turns out the little princess is also a hypocrite—she claimed she would just wear whatever, yet she arrived in full regalia. This look must have been orchestrated by some expert; it masks most of her childishness, leaving only the innocence and unparalleled beauty of a young girl.

No wonder that scoundrel Dao Sheng spent so much time grooming himself, even using bamboo clips to trim his sideburns perfectly.

How can there be so many cunning people in this world? Old Zhang used to think Dao Sheng just had human-like intelligence, but he never imagined the creature had already become a master of deceit.

The little princess walks beside Xia Lin, looking up at the young man beside her from time to time. She doesn't know why, but walking by his side brings her a sense of peace and joy.

Eventually, the little princess cannot walk the entire way with him, as she is a princess and has a sedan chair, while Xia Lin, a mere ninth-rank official, has no such qualification. It is useless to complain; such is the law of the Great Wei.

They arrive at the foot of the Pavilion of Prince Teng. Cicadas buzz in the trees, the Gan River flows gently, and the pavilion stands tall by the riverbank. The breeze is pleasant, and the scenery is beautiful.

Along the way, it is clear that the quality of people attending this gathering is indeed superior to those in Yangzhou. Perhaps it is because of the *Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng*; who could resist the work personally inscribed by Yu Shinan? The star power is off the charts. Even Old Zhang is impatient to admire the work of this great calligrapher.

However, they soon hit a snag. As they reach the pavilion, they see a crowd gathered at the entrance. Xia Lin, full of curiosity, pushes to the front and realizes there is a barrier to entry: one must either provide a matching couplet to the one left by the Prince’s heir or recite the entire *Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng*.

This stumps a large number of people. While many can recite the *Preface* backwards, most are just here to show their faces and gain some popularity, and they find themselves blocked at the door.

"Gentlemen, I truly apologize. The Prince intended to host everyone, but there are simply too many people, and the capacity of the Pavilion of Prince Teng is limited. We have no choice but to take this drastic measure; we hope for your understanding."

Some are happy, some are sad, but most agree with the method—after all, nobody wants to share a table with unlearned fools. Only those looking for a free ride to fame are left embarrassed.

"Come, I’ll take you in," the little princess says, having stepped down from her sedan. After finding Xia Lin in the crowd, she tugs on his sleeve. "They won't stop us."

"That won't do," Xia Lin shakes his head. "If people see that, it would be bad for the Prince's reputation, and it would be bad for your reputation, too. I’ll handle this myself."

The little princess smiles. "Then I’ll recite it with you."

"You can recite it?"

The little princess says nothing but offers a mysterious smile. Can she recite it? Of course she can. For days, she has been writing out Xia Lin’s poems in her room every night, relying on the joy of their time together to fall asleep peacefully. Forget reciting—even writing it out from memory would be effortless.

Nothing else, just practice.

There are many noblewomen here today as well, standing in small groups under the willow trees, waving their circular fans and watching the young talents strut like peacocks. Some have already found a match, while others are still carefully selecting. The scene of beautiful young women is truly invigorating.

This is Old Zhang’s second time at the Pavilion of Prince Teng. Last time was before the renovations, and it was nowhere near as magnificent. But last time, he was an honored guest, whereas this time, if not for Xia Lin, he would likely have been a prisoner.

Coming here twice with such different circumstances leaves Old Zhang feeling a bit wistful. However, the moment he looks back at the beautiful girls, his energy is restored, and he feels like his old self again.

Seeing these young women, he finally understands why the little princess dressed so beautifully. This grand banquet is not just a battlefield for men, but a showcase for women as well; everyone here is striving to present their strongest and most beautiful selves.

Some might think this is merely a gathering of vanity, but in truth, is this not the very essence of youth? There is no need to act like a prude; the flowers are in full bloom and the moon is round—to not appreciate it would be to lack spirit.

The line reaches Xia Lin. The moment he steps onto the platform, he attracts a multitude of gazes. Who could resist a bright, handsome youth with red lips and white teeth? Not only do the girls like him, but the boys who like boys are also interested—though some stare at his face, while others fixate on his backside.

But that is fine; after all, a sturdy backside is a man's second face. If they want to look, let them look.

However, this makes the little princess unhappy. She rolls her eyes at the ladies under the willow trees, having already cursed them all in her heart; she truly despises these frivolous women.

"May I ask, young scholar, do you intend to provide a matching couplet or recite the *Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng*?"

Facing the attendant’s inquiry, Xia Lin simply smiles. "I am not here to recite or provide a couplet. Instead, I’d like to introduce my brother. He has always said he wanted to paint this Pavilion of Prince Teng, and he’s been buzzing in my ear about it every day. Today, I’ve decided to let him give it a try. If he does well, everyone please give him some applause; if not, you are welcome to laugh at him."

Xia Lin finishes and looks at Old Zhang, knitting his brows. "Who are you looking at? I'm talking about you! Get up here!"