Chapter 33: Autumn Fills the Sky, and All Long for Clarity

“Oh? Are you so certain?”
Cheng Guang gazed at the turtle servant before him, a glimmer of intrigue flickering in his eyes.
So he actually showed up.
It seemed Bai Shuxuan wasn’t one to simply dangle bait and wait for the willing to bite.
The turtle servant’s shifty face twisted into a faint, awkward smile as he swallowed hard and forced his lips into a grin.
“How could I dare deceive you, young master?”
Cheng Guang tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his gaze appraising the servant from head to toe without uttering a word.
Under Cheng Guang’s scrutiny, the turtle servant was clearly under immense pressure—sweat streamed down his body and his legs began to tremble.
Before a personage as noble as the young master, he, a lowly wretch, would normally not even have the right to stand in his presence. Now, with the young master’s sharp eyes fixed directly on him, fear soon took hold.
The turtle servant’s smile grew even stiffer. “Young master, if you don’t want the poem, I’ll just take my leave and not trouble you further.”
Cheng Guang chuckled softly. “You’re already here. Why leave? Show me the poem.”
Relief washed over the turtle servant at those words. He quickly stepped forward and respectfully placed the black scroll on the table.
“Young master, all you need to do is copy the poem from this scroll onto rice paper and present it to Lady Bai for her review. That will suffice to pass her test.”
“Although this poem can help you clear the hurdle, whether you can become Lady Bai’s chosen guest will still depend on your own merits.”
Cheng Guang nodded noncommittally, not in a hurry to open the scroll. He weighed the black scroll in his hand and asked,
“What’s your price for this scroll?”
The turtle servant wiped his brow and gave a dry laugh.
“How would I dare take money from you, young master? The chance to help you is fortune enough for someone like me.”
Cheng Guang waved him off indifferently. “Enough. Be gone.”
He had never intended to pay.
The servant froze, clearly not expecting such a wealthy young master to truly have no intention of handing over any money. But he dared not protest, and quickly scurried from the private booth.
Off to the side, Qiao Songshan had witnessed the entire scene, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Boss, you really trust what that turtle servant says? That this poem will guarantee you pass Bai Shuxuan’s test... That sounds far too confident, doesn’t it?”
Cheng Guang smiled calmly, glancing at the scroll in his hand. “I doubt the servant would lie about this. Maybe it really will work.”
He handed the scroll to Qiao Songshan. “Well, want to give it a try?”
Qiao Songshan quickly shook his head. “No, no, if this poem can really pass Bai Shuxuan’s test, of course it should be for you to use.”
“I just worry the poem isn’t good enough. After all, what fine poems could a turtle servant possibly have? If you present it and still fail, it’d make you lose face, and then I’d have to wring that servant’s neck myself.”
With a worried look, Qiao Songshan urged Cheng Guang to open the scroll.
“Boss, quickly open it! Let me take a look.”
Cheng Guang sighed helplessly. “Do you even know how to judge a poem?”
Qiao Songshan blinked, momentarily at a loss, then scratched his head in embarrassment.
Cheng Guang couldn’t help but laugh. He unrolled the scroll and laid it flat on the table.

A four-line poem appeared on the paper, the calligraphy elegant and restrained, each brushstroke concealing a hidden edge.
Qiao Songshan leaned in for a closer look.
“In autumn’s fullness, the sky is fair,
All gaze to see its brilliance there.
Clouds form white through a thousand ravines,
Dew bathes the land with a crystal sheen.”
He murmured the lines softly, but remained perplexed. He could tell it was a poem, but whether it was any good, he truly couldn’t say.
“So, is this poem about the moon?”
“I don’t see the word ‘moon’ anywhere.”
Cheng Guang didn’t seem surprised. He examined the poem and said casually, “A poem on the moon doesn’t have to mention the word itself. ‘All gaze to see its brilliance’—that must mean gazing at the bright moon.”
Qiao Songshan clapped his hands together in sudden realization. “So that’s it.”
“Boss, you really are clever.”
Cheng Guang paid no mind to Qiao Songshan’s empty flattery, continuing to study the poem.
As the saying goes, handwriting reflects the writer. The elegant script and delicate brushwork were clearly not the work of that turtle servant, but rather seemed to come from a woman’s hand.
Could it be Bai Shuxuan herself? Or perhaps one of her maids?
Either way, the poem was undoubtedly from Bai Shuxuan.
After a single glance, Cheng Guang felt the poem was decent. Though it couldn’t compare to the timeless masterpieces housed in his memory, it could certainly be called an excellent work in this world.
Who would have thought Bai Shuxuan possessed such literary talent?
He flipped through the scroll, then copied the poem onto a sheet of rice paper. Having used a brush only a handful of times, his calligraphy could at best be described as “legible.”
After finishing the copy, he set down the brush. On a whim, he then penned a few poems from his past life.
Just then, a commotion rose from downstairs.
“Young lady, I’ve finished!”
Someone stood up, raising his sheet of paper.
It was a scholar in Confucian robes, with a refined face and an air of confidence, as if his poem was second to none.
The red-clad maid smiled and directed a servant to bring his poem up. Once it was handed to her, she gracefully turned and disappeared behind the screen.
Only a short while later, she reappeared.
“Sir, your poem does not suit Lady Bai’s taste. Would you like to rest a while and try again?”
The scholar’s face stiffened and he stood there dazed, his words drowned out by the crowd.
“Red-clad maid, I’ve finished as well—please show my poem to Lady Bai.”
“I’m done too!”
“My poem is truly marvelous—none of you can compare. Lady Bai will surely choose me.”
“Let’s not rush, everyone. Let’s send mine up first.”
...
It seemed the scholar’s attempt had opened the floodgates.

Many others stood up in succession, signaling that they too had finished their poems.
Suddenly, the Jade Pavilion was filled with a cacophony of voices.
Downstairs, Wen Qinghe set down his brush, admired his freshly written poem, and nodded in satisfaction.
“Not bad, not bad. I doubt anyone here can surpass this.”
He murmured to himself, while several fellow scholars finished their poems as well. After exchanging a few words, they summoned servants to deliver their works to the red-clad maid upstairs.
Meanwhile, those still struggling to compose were growing increasingly anxious.
Though Bai Shuxuan hadn’t set a time limit, everyone knew that once she chose someone as her favored guest, no matter how brilliant the poems submitted afterward, they would be of little use.
In the private booth, Cheng Guang, having observed the scene below, decided this was the perfect time to send up his poem. He summoned a servant to deliver his rice paper to the red-clad maid.
The servant respectfully received it and quickly handed it over.
The maid, seeing where it had come from, lowered her gaze and smiled gently at Cheng Guang before turning to accept more submissions.
If only a few poems were sent, she could have made several trips to present them to Bai Shuxuan for review. But with so many arriving at once, she decided to collect a batch and deliver them together.
After a short wait, when the flow of entries slowed, she rose and slipped behind the screen.
All eyes followed her, fixating on the room where Bai Shuxuan waited.
Those still racking their brains for a poem finally set down their brushes.
These poems, now being presented for Bai Shuxuan’s review, represented the highest level of artistry among those gathered.
Many academy scholars had submitted their best work.
Just from this wave alone, it was clear that several would pass the test.
With so many passing, surely one would please Bai Shuxuan?
It seemed the chosen guest would be decided tonight.
Those who hadn’t finished their poems let their brushes fall, resigned to their lost chance.
Those who had submitted with the others stared wide-eyed at the central room, their gazes filled with hope.
Amidst the crowd, Wen Qinghe stood with his painted fan, hands clasped behind his back, smiling serenely at Bai Shuxuan’s quarters.
Unlike the others, he showed no nervousness—he was entirely at ease.
He was convinced that passing Bai Shuxuan’s test was a certainty.
Once he passed, with his looks, becoming her chosen guest would be a simple matter.
Wen Qinghe was confident that the outcome was already assured.
No matter how many mediocrities and nobodies surrounded him, he was certain that Bai Shuxuan would not overlook such a dazzling gem.
...