Chapter 32: Heir, Do You Want the Courtesan?

“Miss, is there a time limit for composing the poem?” someone called out loudly from downstairs.

The maid in red smiled and replied, “There is no time limit. As long as you can compose a poem, hand it to me, and I will present it to Miss Bai for her to review. If it pleases her, you will pass.”

“Only those who pass the test may enter the room and converse face-to-face with Miss Bai.”

“If someone wins Miss Bai’s favor, he will become her guest for the evening.”

Upon hearing these words, everyone present wore thoughtful expressions.

It seemed not everyone would be able to see Bai Shuxuan; only those who passed the test would be granted the privilege of a close encounter.

Understanding this, many faces fell with disappointment.

They had all come for Bai Shuxuan, and now they were told that without passing the test, they wouldn’t even be allowed to glimpse her shadow?

Moreover, whether one passed depended entirely on Bai Shuxuan’s whims—wasn’t that too unfair?

Many harbored such thoughts in their hearts.

Yet they could not protest.

After all, it was Bai Shuxuan herself choosing her guest, not some formal imperial examination.

If winning her favor meant spending a night with the famed beauty of the capital, what more could one ask for?

With their thoughts surging, discussion ceased. Those with poetic talent bent over their tables, pens poised, to compose.

Those without such talent looked about, hoping to find a poor scholar to buy a poem from.

As the chaotic sounds in the pavilion began to settle and quiet, the maid in red added with a smile,

“Though there is no time limit, Miss Bai’s aim is to select someone who pleases her to be her guest. If a favored person is found, she will not review any subsequent poems.”

This announcement stunned everyone, and soon the sound of pens scribbling became even more intense.

A tense atmosphere pervaded the air.

Cheng Guang couldn’t help but want to ridicule it.

Surely none of them were so nervous during the imperial exams—yet here they were, visiting a pleasure house, hoping to catch a glimpse of a beauty, and they put themselves through this?

Though Cheng Guang was no historian or master of classical poetry, he was at least a diligent graduate of twelve years of compulsory education; he could recite several famous Tang and Song poems at will.

He could easily produce a few timeless masterpieces on the theme of the moon.

Though the challenge was simple for him, he didn’t want to present them directly.

He intended to observe first, to see if Bai Shuxuan might pull any tricks for his sake.

Leaning on the railing, Cheng Guang casually glanced below.

He noticed Wen Qinghe and several scholars from the Great Zhou Academy hunched over their tables, writing. Clearly, they had come for Bai Shuxuan and had no intention of causing Cheng Guang trouble this time.

It made sense; they didn’t know Cheng Guang would suddenly leave his residence.

Meeting at Wanhua Pavilion’s Jadeite Chamber today was pure coincidence.

Cheng Guang’s gaze swept the hall, then lingered on the maid in red standing at the center, before shifting past her to the screen behind.

Through the screen, he could vaguely see the silhouette of an elegant figure seated beyond.

It wasn’t clear.

But surely, that was Bai Shuxuan.

Cheng Guang glanced just once, then turned his eyes to Qiao Songshan.

Qiao Songshan, frowning, held his brush awkwardly, as if a child wielding a spoon, ink splattered across the paper, darkening the entire sheet.

“Boss, how do I compose this poem? It’s too hard, I can’t do it.”

“Looks like we have no hope with Bai Shuxuan. If only we’d known she’d set this challenge, we could’ve asked some scholars to prepare moon-themed poems ahead of time.”

At this, Qiao Songshan’s brows lifted, feeling suddenly clever.

“Speaking of which, we can still try now. Maybe someone nearby is willing to sell us a poem.”

He quickly stood and called out to the hall below, “I, Qiao Songshan, am offering a high price for a poem! Anyone willing to sell?”

His voice was loud and clear.

The Jadeite Chamber fell silent for a moment.

Cheng Guang pressed his hand to his forehead, tempted to pretend he didn’t know this man.

Many stared at Qiao Songshan upstairs, their expressions odd.

“What’s this big fool doing? Even if you want to cheat, you don’t shout for answers in the exam hall!”

“Doesn’t he care what Miss Bai thinks?”

“Everyone else is discreet, but he’s flipping the table.”

“Who knows if Miss Bai minds such things? Otherwise, the poems I just bought would be useless.”

“She probably doesn’t care. She hasn’t verified whether our poems are self-composed or purchased.”

“That’s true. Quietly does it.”

So the crowd whispered.

Meanwhile, Wen Qinghe downstairs heard Qiao Songshan’s voice, looked up in surprise, and spotted him in the top-floor private seat.

Looking closer, he saw another figure beside Qiao Songshan, exuding noble presence.

“The Young Marquis is here too?”

Wen Qinghe murmured.

His peers, hearing this, looked up in turn.

“It must be the Young Marquis. Everyone knows Qiao Songshan loves to follow him.”

“When I entered the Jadeite Chamber, I heard rumors the Young Marquis was here. I didn’t believe it at first, but now it’s true.”

“Phew, last time we nearly got beaten half to death over a courtesan by those two. Hopefully there won’t be trouble this time…”

The crowd, seeing Cheng Guang and Qiao Songshan, exchanged glances.

Most had suffered at their hands before; while Qiao Songshan was manageable, none dared raise a hand against the Young Marquis.

If another conflict erupted, they’d likely be beaten again.

With nowhere to complain.

“Relax, last time was our own doing. We provoked the Young Marquis, and getting beaten was expected.”

“This time is different; as long as we don’t stir trouble, nothing will happen,” Wen Qinghe said, his stiff expression easing into a smile.

“Besides, Miss Bai chooses her guest for literary talent. The Young Marquis, despite his rank, won’t easily buy a superior poem.”

“He has no hope, he can’t compete with us.”

With that, the scholars’ confidence returned and they resumed writing.

Wen Qinghe felt calm and confident about winning Bai Shuxuan’s favor.

Though many were present—some of high status, even the Young Marquis among them—he didn’t believe anyone could outshine him.

He was self-assured in his poetic talent.

His poetry ranked among the best at the Great Zhou Academy, earning praise from several esteemed scholars.

Wen Qinghe was convinced that he would be Bai Shuxuan’s guest.

…

Back in the private seat.

Qiao Songshan’s shout brought only a brief hush to the Jadeite Chamber, then everyone returned to their own affairs.

This left Qiao Songshan dispirited.

He had no idea who possessed poetic talent, nor whom to approach for a poem.

He felt his plan to help his boss win Bai Shuxuan, the famed courtesan, was a failure.

Just as predicted—they were here merely to join the fun.

Qiao Songshan sighed, embarrassed to face Cheng Guang, and retreated to a corner of the table, doodling circles in self-imposed exile.

Cheng Guang couldn’t help but laugh at this sight, unconcerned. As he was about to comfort Qiao Songshan, a hoarse voice sounded beside him.

“Young Marquis.”

Cheng Guang turned to see a shifty-eyed servant approach, stealthily pulling a scroll from his robe and whispering,

“Young Marquis, do you desire the courtesan?”

“I have a poem on the moon, sure to help you pass Miss Bai’s challenge and win her favor.”

…