Chapter 34: Be Gentle, My Heart Aches

Private Room.

Cheng Guang watched the spot where Bai Shuxuan sat with great interest, equally curious to see which few she would select to pass the test. If she wanted to make the young lord her devoted admirer, she would surely stage an elaborate display to highlight her own status. She would need to show him that although she was a courtesan, a woman of the brothel, she was no ordinary one—not someone he could easily possess.

Perhaps it was precisely because Bai Shuxuan, through a series of calculated maneuvers, elevated her own position and identity to a height in the young lord’s heart that was never meant for her, that he became her most loyal admirer without even touching her hand.

As Cheng Guang’s thoughts swirled, Qiao Songshan beside him was so nervous that his palms sweated, staring blankly into the distance, murmuring under his breath.

“I wonder if that servant’s poem will work…”

“With so many academy scholars here, their poetry must be extraordinary. A poem from a mere servant? That just sounds unreliable.”

“Why does the boss have so much faith that the poem from that servant will let him pass Bai Shuxuan’s test?”

“Could it be that the servant is one of Bai Shuxuan’s people, deliberately trying to help the boss pass?”

“That can’t be right. Didn’t Bai Shuxuan say she would choose the one she truly favored? Has she already fallen for our boss?”

Qiao Songshan muttered on, well on his way to becoming a chatterbox. Cheng Guang paid him no mind, lifting his teacup, blowing gently on the rising steam, and taking a small sip to calm himself as he watched.

This time, after the red-clad maid entered the room, there was no movement for quite a while. Everyone present grew more anxious, but forced themselves to wait in silence.

Under a thousand watchful eyes, the red-clad maid soon reappeared. She was dressed in scarlet, her face adorned with a gentle smile, and she spoke with warmth:

“Miss Bai has finished reading all your poems and has chosen one person to pass the test.”

As her words fell, the hall was struck silent. Even the air seemed to freeze. After a long pause, the entire Emerald Pavilion erupted in a thunderous uproar.

“What?? What did you say?? She only chose one?!”

“There must have been nearly a thousand poems submitted, if not more! Many were written by scholars from the academies! And Miss Bai picked just one? What was she thinking?!”

“Who is it? Is that poem really so amazing?”

“Exactly! There has to be something fishy going on! Has Miss Bai already made up her mind about her favorite?”

“We demand to see the chosen poem, so we can judge just how good it is—for Miss Bai to let only its author pass the test!”

Many were infuriated by the red-clad maid’s words. They had no complaint about passing the test being subject to Bai Shuxuan’s whims—after all, it was her decision who to invite into her private circle.

But now, you tell me that out of a thousand people, only one was selected to pass? Out of a thousand poems, only one met her fancy? How good must that poem be, how unique, to stand out alone? Does this make any sense?

It’s utterly unreasonable!

Frustration and suspicion mounted—many began to question whether the result had been predetermined.

Downstairs, Wen Qinghe was startled when he heard the announcement, but soon delight flickered in his eyes.

“I never expected Miss Bai to appreciate me so highly. After reading my poem, all the others must have seemed dull by comparison, so she chose only me to pass the test. This means I’ll surely become her chosen guest.”

At this thought, Wen Qinghe’s usually calm heart began to pound.

“Everyone, thank you, thank you. Miss Bai’s discerning eye has chosen me—there’s no need for such excitement,” Wen Qinghe said, rising to his feet, unable to suppress a smile, his voice gentle as he addressed the assembly.

At once, countless eyes in the Emerald Pavilion turned toward him.

“That’s Wen Qinghe?”

“The legitimate son of the Minister of Rites—a man of the highest standing. They say he’s also a student of the Great Zhou Academy. If it’s him, it just might be true.”

“Tsk, we’re finished. We can’t compete with that.”

“Miss Bai is out of our reach.”

As the crowd muttered, they ground their teeth in envy. Wen Qinghe, now the center of attention and apparently the sole favorite of Bai Shuxuan, felt his vanity swell to unprecedented heights.

The scholars around him began to congratulate him in advance.

“Brother Wen, congratulations! Even the great scholars have praised your poetry. Winning over Bai Shuxuan, the famed courtesan, shouldn’t be difficult for you.”

“We envy you, Brother Wen. When you return, you must tell us just how beautiful Bai Shuxuan truly is.”

“We’ve never seen her ourselves, but tonight you’ll share her bed and enjoy a night of paradise—how we envy you.”

“You’re insufferable, Brother Wen! Why wasn’t I born with your poetic talent? Be gentle tonight, or my heart will ache with envy.”

“Say, Brother Wen, could you call my name softly tonight? At least let me feel a part of it.”

Basked in their flattery, Wen Qinghe was secretly elated, unfazed by their teasing. To win a woman as renowned as Bai Shuxuan meant bearing pressures no ordinary man could endure. He had long been prepared for this.

“Say no more, everyone. Wait for my return, and I’ll tell you everything in detail.”

With a carefree smile, Wen Qinghe fanned himself with his painted fan and prepared to ascend the stairs to Bai Shuxuan’s chamber.

But just then, the red-clad maid’s voice rang out at the perfect moment.

“Since everyone is eager to hear it, I will recite the chosen poem for your appreciation.”

“In autumn’s fullness, the sky shines bright,
All gaze at its clear, resplendent light.
Clouds gather white above a thousand streams,
Dew washes the river, the world serene.”

As her words faded, the entire Emerald Pavilion fell into a hush.

Wen Qinghe, one foot on the stair, halted mid-step. After a stunned pause, he slowly lowered his foot, staring blankly at the red-clad maid.

“That’s not right. This isn’t my poem. Did you read the wrong one?” he muttered in disbelief.

The scholars around him were equally stricken, exchanging bewildered glances.

It wasn’t Wen Qinghe after all?

Who present could have written a poem surpassing his?

Even they could scarcely believe it.

After a moment’s daze, Wen Qinghe declared loudly, “This is a scandal!”

“Though this is an excellent poem, even I could not compose it. Who among us could have written such verses?”

“Miss Red Candle, may I ask—who is the author of this poem?”