Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Newly Emerged Prodigy

Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Newly Crowned Prodigy

Since arriving in the Great Song, Tie Xinyuan had never once used the present to satirize the past. Though the Great Song was a land teeming with talent—scholars as numerous as fish crossing the river—when it came to Confucian classics, a thousand Tie Xinyuans would not be a match for any one of them. Even after studying for so long under a mediocre tutor, if he dared to debate the classics with these men, it would be a miracle if he were not scorned to death.

Yet the art of poetry offered its own clever path. Standing on the shoulders of countless giants who came after the first year of the Qingli era, Tie Xinyuan felt no fear—not even before Su Dongpo, the future Poet God whose verses would shake all of East Asia. Even if this fellow were at his peak, Tie Xinyuan could use his own blade to strike at the shield and battle him fiercely.

“What's the matter, little frog? Can't jump anymore?” Wang Jian cradled a fox in his arms, gently stroking its fur, and shouted gleefully.

The little princess wanted to speak up for Tie Xinyuan, but she lacked the courage to face Wang Jian, the chief eunuch who wielded near absolute power in the palace. Her mother had warned her never to offend certain people, and Wang Jian ranked high on that list.

“You dare look down on a frog? Then let me compose a poem on frogs for you to see.”

Seeing Tie Xinyuan stand tall and prepare to recite, Wang Jian grew playful. He hugged the fox with one arm, cupped his other hand to his ear, and laughed, “Very well, I’ll listen with utmost attention.”

Tie Xinyuan felt as though the spirit of a later emperor possessed him, pounded his chest, and recited loudly: “Alone by the pond I sit like a crouching tiger, beneath the green shade I nurture my spirit.”

The little princess cheered loudly with her maids, though she didn't understand the words. To her, Tie Xinyuan’s ability to recite these lines was already remarkable.

Wang Jian, a literate man himself, could discern the quality of poetry. The first two lines were good, but not enough to move him. He pursed his lips, saying, “Not bad, but this won’t impress the Emperor. If the next two lines aren’t outstanding, I’ll personally supervise the head eunuch in giving you a beating.”

Tie Xinyuan glanced at him with disdain and continued: “Alone by the pond I sit like a crouching tiger, beneath the green shade I nurture my spirit. When spring comes, I do not speak first—what insect would dare make a sound?”

Hearing the last two lines, Wang Jian’s hand trembled, causing the fox to fall. Luckily, the fox twisted midair and landed steadily, but before it could settle accounts, Wang Jian turned tail and ran, shouting, “Unbelievable! Unbelievable! A prodigy has appeared at the edge of the imperial city!”

Zhao Zhen closed the dossier in his hands and sighed deeply. Three crushing defeats in two years had made him doubt the strength of the Song army from the bottom of his heart.

The defeat at Dingchuan Fort did not cripple the Song, but the death of Ge Huaimin pained him deeply. Ge was the son of Ge Ba, a renowned general under the previous emperor, wise in warfare and valiant from youth. Zhao Zhen had placed great hopes in him, wishing to use him to truly control the army.

Despite Fan Zhongyan’s claims that Ge had no talent for command, and Lü Yijian’s remark that he had the mouth of Zhao Kuo but was unfit for responsibility, Zhao Zhen stubbornly appointed him as the right wing commander. One battle revealed his true capability.

Though incompetent, Ge Huaimin died bravely, knowing he was outmatched—preserving at least a shred of dignity for Zhao Zhen.

Zhao Zhen strolled to the entrance of the Grand Celebration Hall. Looking at the bleak winter outside, he tucked his hands into his sleeves and muttered, “It truly is bitterly cold today!”

“Sire, something’s happened—a prodigy has appeared in the imperial city!”

Hearing Wang Jian’s clamorous cries, Zhao Zhen looked curiously at the running eunuch, wondering what manner of prodigy could unsettle him so.

“Sire, I just discovered a prodigy!” Wang Jian, panting heavily, managed to explain.

Zhao Zhen frowned, “Oh? What kind of prodigy?”

Wang Jian quickly recounted what he had witnessed. Zhao Zhen scratched his head and mused, “When spring comes, I do not speak first—what insect would dare make a sound? Such boldness! With lines like these, one could indeed be called a native of the imperial city!”

Wang Jian nodded repeatedly, “Sire, you do not know. I was mocking that young boy in his green robe, calling him a frog, and he immediately composed such verses. I was truly taken aback. Prodigies are not rare in the Song, but to witness this child’s talent with my own eyes, right under my nose—that is truly rare.”

Zhao Zhen laughed, “The Wang family’s Three Scholars Hall has not produced talent for two generations. Wang Dan alone possessed enough wit for two lifetimes, so it’s not surprising if the third generation yields a prodigy.”

Wang Jian shook his head, “Sire, this boy cannot be counted among the Wang family’s hall. Lady Tie Wang has kept her virtue for her late husband, and the Kaifeng prefecture has awarded her a plaque for chastity. She has never changed her son’s surname to Wang, nor has she set foot in the Wang household in seven years since residing in the capital.”

Zhao Zhen chuckled, “What, did Lady Tie Wang’s soup and noodles sway you to speak up for her and her son? Wang Jian, I recall you don’t accept bribes so cheaply.”

Wang Jian laughed, “I am merely borrowing the tiger’s power. Without your backing, which official would recognize me? So, I accept their gifts out of gratitude to you, Sire. But I have never muddled your judgment by speaking for them.”

Zhao Zhen smiled, “Well said. I know you haven’t. In this world, genuine feelings are the hardest to resist. Lady Tie Wang sends me food every year; though ordinary, it’s a neighborly gesture. It’s only right for you to speak kindly for your neighbor. Now that I’ve heard such stirring verses at a time of gloom, how can I not reward them? Since you enjoy mingling with neighbors, take two bolts of silk to the Tie household as my payment for the poem. Remind the boy: poetry is a minor art. Let him not squander his talent like Liu Yong, pouring all his gifts into the brothels.”

Wang Jian nodded and went to prepare the gift. After a while, he returned, saluted Zhao Zhen, and said, “That boy tricked Princess Fukang out of her savings, claiming he was preparing a gift for your birthday... I meant to punish him, but now I’ve changed my mind. I’ll wait to see the gift before deciding. What do you think, Sire?”

Zhao Zhen was surprised, “Is that so? Fukang never leaves the palace... Ah, but from the imperial city, one can see the Tie household. Since etiquette is preserved across the wall, it’s acceptable. Tie the Fox never sends worthless things—a single booklet on the divine crossbow was invaluable. I’m curious what treasures they might send now. Let’s wait and see. As long as the Tie family and Wang family are unrelated, whether prodigy or demon, the vast Song realm has room enough for him to make his mark.”

Wang Jian bowed, smiling as he went off to prepare the gift.

“Brother Yuan, can you really write poetry?” Fukang leaned on the city wall, wide-eyed, asking Tie Xinyuan for the hundredth time.

Tie Xinyuan straddled a stool, picking out black sesame from white, not looking up. “Didn’t I already compose one?”

“Why can’t I write poetry?”

“If you were as clever as me, you could.”

The little princess pounded her head in frustration. “Am I really that stupid?”

Tie Xinyuan waved his hand. “Not too bad. But a girl needn’t be too clever. Clever women rarely live long or happily; only simple girls enjoy a carefree life.”

“Why is that?”

“Trouble begins with learning to read. Once you master words and gain knowledge, you want to understand everything clearly. The more you understand, the more you worry—just as you do now. You’re becoming clever, and it’s frightening!”

The little princess quickly covered her mouth, swallowing her question, her eyes full of fear. Her mother had said: fools have their own fortune. It seemed she must never become too clever...

When Wang Rouhua returned, she found a crowd of neighbors across the street craning their necks toward her home. She thought her son was in trouble, but upon entering, discovered it was nothing of the sort.

Wang Jian, as pale and round as a steamed bun, sat grandly in the courtyard, eyes closed, savoring the tea her son brewed.

Seeing Lady Tie Wang enter, Wang Jian didn’t rise, but smiled, “Lady Tie Wang, this time you must make a good bowl of meat soup noodles for me. If not for my words in front of the Emperor, your son’s reputation as a prodigy would never have spread.”

Lady Tie Wang curtsied and smiled, “What has my foolish son done to gain the Emperor’s notice? This is a blessing beyond measure. I’ll wash my hands and cook, and make sure to serve you well, noble sir.”

She instructed Tie Xinyuan to brew tea for Wang Jian, hurried to the kitchen, and heard Wang Jian say, “The Emperor said the Tie boy should devote himself to learning and not waste his talent on idle poetry.”

Lady Tie Wang turned, delighted, to Wang Jian, “The Emperor spoke of the Tie boy?”

Wang Jian laughed, raising a thumb to praise her cleverness, then sipped the tea with squinted eyes.

Though the tea the brat brewed was bitter at first, its aftertaste was excellent, with a hint of sweetness. How had he managed that?

Wang Jian spoke loudly enough for the whole street to hear. Neighbors listening through the open gate erupted in amazement.

To be praised as a prodigy by the Emperor—what fortune was this?

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