The character “Yu” (瑜) appeared vividly on the table.
Having finished, the Young Master tossed the brush aside. “I can, however, broaden your horizons.”
Xie Shaoling stared intently at the tea-stained character. He had intended to force the man to write a poem, but he had truly had his horizons broadened.
He had emulated Qin Zijin’s Yan Style for years, capturing its essence, yet the character before him possessed three parts more spirit and power than even Qin’s work. This was just a character written casually with leftover tea, yet it made his own proud calligraphy pale in comparison.
Since the age of twelve, Xie Shaoling had studied every historical rubbing and inscription. Arrogant as he was, he never believed anyone could surpass him in calligraphy.
But now, his fingers gripped his folding fan so hard that the veins on the back of his hand bulged.
His throat felt dry. After a long moment, he suppressed the turmoil in his heart and let out a raspy laugh. “Today, my eyes have truly been opened.”
The Young Master glanced at him, his voice laced with mockery. “Merely a playful scribble. Why mention it?”
Xie Shaoling stared at him, speechless.
After a long silence, he returned to the door of the pavilion and closed it, shutting out the crowd of eager candidates.
“What is your name, sir?”
Xie Shaoling returned to the table, his smile gone, his expression grave and serious.
The Young Master did not hesitate, uttering a single word. “Mei.”
“Young Master Mei.”
Xie Shaoling repeated the name as if tasting its fragrance. He stepped closer and asked in a low voice, “Where does Young Master Mei come from?”
Young Master Mei looked at him from a short distance, a strange, dark light in his eyes. “The South(Jiagnan).”
Xie Shaoling followed up leadingly, “On your way to the capital, did you see the refugees?”
Young Master Mei nodded.
Beside him, Shen Lang looked as if he wanted to speak, his brow furrowing slightly in dissatisfaction with Xie Shaoling’s persistence.
Xie Shaoling didn’t care. “The people you saw were all refugees from Jiangzhou.”
“This year, Jiangzhou was hit by floods. A hundred thousand people are displaced, suffering from hunger and cold. The Imperial Court allocated three hundred thousand taels for disaster relief, yet that money has not even left the gates of the Ministry of Revenue.”
Young Master Mei’s brow creased slightly. “How can this be?”
Xie Shaoling curled his lip in a mocking sneer. “Indeed, how can this be? Because someone is greedy and heartless, blinded by desire, pocketing the entire relief fund for himself, disregarding the world for his own gain!”
Young Master Mei nodded again. “And the person you speak of is the Lord Chancellor?”
“I speak of Gu the Cat.”
Xie Shaoling did not hesitate to use Gu Huaiyu’s derogatory nickname.
The youth’s eyes were clear and piercing, no longer hiding his intent. “Now that treacherous ministers hold sway, we who read the words of the sages only dare to write mocking poems, hoping for the Heavens to open their eyes and take the villain. Isn’t that—”
Young Master Mei suddenly pressed a hand to his lips and coughed. His pale, almost translucent cheeks flushed with a sickly crimson.
He habitually pulled a silk handkerchief from his sleeve, pressing it to his nose as he bowed his head, his shoulders trembling slightly from the cough.
Xie Shaoling’s gaze involuntarily fell on the corner of the Young Master’s eye, where there was a faint, inconspicuous tear mole.
Fair skin and a light ink-colored mole—it was like a minimalist ink wash painting, elegant to the extreme, yet somehow exuding a sense of vivid beauty.
For a moment, Xie dithered, his words forgotten.
Shen Jun supported the Young Master’s arm, shooting Xie Shaoling a cold, unfriendly look.
Young Master Mei finally pulled the handkerchief away, lightly dabbing the blood from the corner of his mouth. He asked as if nothing had happened, “Where were we?”
Xie Shaoling snapped back to his senses, murmuring, “Isn’t it absurdly laughable?”
“Oh? Then in your opinion, what should we do?”
Young Master Mei tossed the handkerchief onto the table, asking with a hint of a smile.
Xie Shaoling’s voice softened slightly, as if afraid to startle this beauty carved from snow and jade. “We read the books of sages to become ministers to the Emperor. If we do not even have the courage to speak the truth and remonstrate, what was the use of all that reading?”
He paused. “Just now, you said my poem was bold. But I believe true boldness is to impeach the traitor in front of The Celestial Lord himself. Only that can uproot the evil!”
Having reached this point, he revealed his plan without reservation.
Xie Shaoling stared at Young Master Mei, speaking bluntly. “The title of Top Scholar in this examination is already in my grasp. At the Qionglin Banquet, the Emperor will be present. I shall impeach the thief Gu right there in court! When the eyes of the world are upon us, even if I die, I will shake his very foundations!”
“Young Master Mei, do you think such a memorial would be beautiful enough?”
