Chapter 98: Liu Yitiao's State of Mind

“When the delicate clouds weave their cleverness, and the meteors carry their grief; when the River of Stars stretches far away and darkly they cross. Once the golden wind and jade dew meet, it surpasses countless unions in the human world. Tenderness is like water, the awaited night like a dream; how can one bear to look back on the road home over the Magpie Bridge? If two hearts can remain faithful for long, why must they insist on morning and evening together?”

The moment Chuchu Zhang finished reading those lines, her little face flushed crimson at once, as though fire had leapt across it. She hurriedly pressed the letter to her chest, her heart hammering like a startled deer. She glanced around in panic, and was relieved to see that her elder brother had already gone out to keep company with the guests; otherwise, he would surely have mocked her again.

That Lord Liu was truly something else. How could he write such unabashed lines?

Yet even as that thought rose in her heart, Chuchu’s eyes could not help wandering back to the page.

“If two hearts can remain faithful for long, why must they insist on morning and evening together? Why must they insist on morning and evening together? To be able to write such lines, Lord Liu must truly be gifted. I was right not to misjudge him. Still, I wonder whether he wore that garment I made for him, and whether it fit. And did he like it?”

She murmured softly to herself, and the heat that had just begun to fade returned to her cheeks, hotter than before.

It was the first time she had ever made clothes for any man other than her father and her elder brother. Just saying it aloud was enough to make her feel shy beyond measure.

“Chuchu? What are you thinking about?”

Mrs. Zhang pushed the door open and came in from outside. Seeing Chuchu sitting there in a daze with flushed cheeks, she laughed and said, “Thinking about your future husband again, are you? Heh, truly, daughters are not meant to be kept at home forever. Our Chuchu is starting to yearn for love at last, heh heh...”

“Mother, what are you saying?” Chuchu pretended not to care as she tucked the letter into her right sleeve. Then she stood and took Mrs. Zhang by the arm, protesting, “What do you mean, yearning for love? That sounds awful. How can you talk about your own daughter like that?”

“Heh, you little imp, and now you know how to be shy? How come you weren’t shy a few days ago when you were making clothes for him?” Mrs. Zhang led Chuchu around the table to sit down. “All right, Mother won’t tease you anymore. You’ve delayed this for so long, and now that you’re sixteen at last, you finally have a proper future and are to be married. Your mother can set aside a great worry. You should know, when I was your age, I had already been married to your father for two years, and even your elder brother was already able to crawl.”

“And besides, that Lord Liu is quite a good match in Mother’s eyes. He is handsome, good-tempered, and his family has fields and cattle. He is a fine match for our family in every respect, and your father and your elder brother both like him very much. If you marry him, you will have a decent home. Mother can finally feel at ease.”

“Mother!” Chuchu took her mother’s hand and called out softly. “Your daughter cannot bear to part with you and Father, and with Elder Brother too... Why don’t we delay the wedding a little longer?”

“You child,” Mrs. Zhang said fondly, stroking Chuchu’s cheek, “why do you keep talking nonsense? The wedding date has already been set. How could it be changed so easily? Even if your father and I agreed, would the other family agree? Besides, men should marry when they are grown, and women should be given in marriage when they are grown. Every woman reaches this day sooner or later. Fortunately, Gutian Village is only a short walk from our own little Xinzhuang. If you miss Mother or miss home, you can walk back in no time. Our mother-and-daughter talks will not be broken off.”

Having said that, and not wishing to linger on such a melancholy subject, Mrs. Zhang picked up a cloth pouch from the table and asked, “What is this? Is this the keepsake my future son-in-law brought today? Let Mother open it and have a look.”

“Yes,” Chuchu said shyly, nodding. She had been so intent on the letter just now that she had not even opened the pouch, and naturally had no idea what was inside.

But no matter what the gift was, light or costly, Chuchu no longer cared much. Today, with that letter and that poem alone, it was already enough.

“Wherever life takes us, what are we like? Like a wild goose stepping across snow and mud. By chance, a trace of claw marks is left on the mud; once the goose has flown away, how could it still think of east or west? Fine handwriting, fine poetry, and a fine spirit!”

After praising him, Huang Feiyun bent low and made a deep bow to Liu Yitiao. “Sir Liu is a man of great talent. Please accept this bow from Feiyun. Earlier I overestimated myself and actually intended to test you with calligraphy and poetry. Thinking of it now, how laughable it was. I hope you will forgive me and not take offense at a fool like me.”

Literati had this one excellent quality: they could admit their mistakes, and a single good poem could win them over completely.

Liu Yitiao smiled and helped Huang Feiyun to his feet. “What are you saying, Brother Feiyun? We are only making friends through literature. There is no need for such formality.”

At just that moment, Zhang Chuwen returned to the hall. Seeing Huang Feiyun apologizing to Liu Yitiao, a satisfied smile appeared on his face, and his admiration for Liu Yitiao grew even stronger.

To subdue Huang Feiyun, a gifted yet proud young gentleman, so quickly—Liu Yitiao truly possessed real ability.

“Brother Feiyun, Brother Yitiao,” Zhang Chuwen said with a smile as Huang Feiyun finished and straightened up, “I have kept you waiting. Come, let us all sit. I shall pour you some more tea.”

“Brother Chuwen, your timing is perfect,” Huang Feiyun said warmly when he saw him. “Come look at Sir Liu’s masterpiece.”

As he spoke, he spread the poem flat upon the table, pressing the top edge down with an inkstone, then turned to Zhang Chuwen and said, “Brother Chuwen, please look. This is the poem Sir Liu composed on the spot just now. Come and give it your appraisal. What do you think?”

Zhang Chuwen leaned in with great interest and, looking at the lines that had stirred Huang Feiyun so deeply, softly recited them aloud: “Wherever life takes us, what are we like? Like a wild goose stepping across snow and mud. By chance, a trace of claw marks is left on the mud; once the goose has flown away, how could it still think of east or west?”

Detached, soaring, free, and broad-minded—this was the feeling Zhang Chuwen drew from the poem.

An old tutor had once said that poetry reflects the man, and the man reflects the poetry. To write such lines—was this truly Liu Yitiao’s present state of mind?

Zhang Chuwen looked at Liu Yitiao. It was a realm beyond his reach, one he could only look up to but never attain. In breadth of heart and transcendence of spirit, in poetry and in mind alike, he was no match for Liu Yitiao.

“Sir Liu has great talent. Please accept this bow from Chuwen!”

Zhang Chuwen copied Huang Feiyun’s example and bowed deeply to Liu Yitiao as well. This was the respect of one man of letters for another, and also a habit among them.

Yet this habit sat very awkwardly with Liu Yitiao. In his eyes, it was merely a quirk of all these bookish men. He stepped aside to avoid receiving the bow and replied with a somewhat self-mocking humility, “Clumsy words and crude lines. Brother Chuwen is too kind.”

Then, before Zhang and Huang could say anything further, and unwilling to keep indulging their literary refinement any longer, Liu Yitiao straightened, cupped his hands, and took his leave from the two of them. “Tomorrow I must begin clearing and breaking ground on my fields. There are still many matters awaiting my attention, and I cannot remain here long. I must take my leave now. I hope the two elder brothers will forgive me.”

Clearing land? Farming? Huang Feiyun blinked hard at first, and only then remembered that Liu Yitiao was different from them after all. He was, at heart, still a farmer.

Zhang Chuwen, long accustomed to rural labor, knew how important such work was, and did not insist that he stay. He and Huang Feiyun escorted Liu Yitiao to the door together, watching as he rode his donkey off into the distance.

“Brother Chuwen, you truly have found a splendid brother-in-law,” Huang Feiyun said with a sigh. “What a pity that he seems to have no interest in official life, and that he comes from peasant stock. Otherwise, with his learning, there would surely be a place for him on this year’s imperial examination roll in the capital.”

“Brother Feiyun speaks truly,” Zhang Chuwen said. “But since our younger brother Yitiao has no desire for that path, we cannot force him. Every man has his own fate. Let him be.”

Seeing that Liu Yitiao was now completely out of sight, he turned back to Huang Feiyun and said, “Since Brother Yitiao has already gone, let us return inside and talk.”