Zhu Sihuan was still reeling from the inciting words ringing in his ears as he stumbled into Wenchang Pavilion.
The usually bustling sanctuary of the literati was now eerily quiet. All eyes were fixed on the center, where a young man in cyan robes sat, commanding awe without a shred of anger on his composed, dignified face.
The months of hard work seemed to have finally paid off. Though there were still doubts about Young Master Qingzhu's reputation, the poetry and ancient phrases he produced were all authentic masterpieces that left readers sighing in admiration.
The public did love jumping to conclusions, but even when some with ulterior motives tried to fan the flames, there were still scholars who steadfastly believed in and protected Young Master Qingzhu.
Qi Huai and An Jun stood staunchly by his side while Jiang Sheng and Wen Zhiyun stuck close behind him.
After half a year immersed in bureaucratic politics, the dignified air of authority the young lad exuded made him look remarkably similar to the elder officials Zhu Sihuan had seen.
No, he was an elder now.
A Compiler of the Imperial Library, 6th rank.
Still in a daze, Zhu Sihuan walked over. Someone called out, drawing all eyes back to him.
Xu Mo, seated calmly, gave a soft greeting. "Brother Zhu is here."
It was as if there had never been any conflict between them, as if they were still able to have genuine exchanges between adversarial factions.
"Brother...Xu," Zhu Sihuan squeezed out. "How have you been?"
Qi Huai scoffed but said nothing.
If it had been Zhao Yuan instead, curses would surely have already been flung out.
The four of them had been the first friends to know each other. Though their minds were occupied with other motives, they were still passionate youths at heart who held some authentic affection.
Especially Zhu Sihuan. Because of Zhu Zhi and the young Tao lady, he had formed a deep friendship with Xu Mo. Though his family status prevented overly intimate association, he still tried his utmost to help however he could.
Zhu Zhi's death bore three-tenths of Zhu Sihuan's blame.
Those two hundred taels of silver represented a burning, painful debt.
How did they end up at this point? How did they end up turning their weapons against each other?
Zhu Sihuan's mind grew hazier as he recalled Supervisor Li's cold questioning, his father-in-law and mother-in-law's admonishing tones, and even his wife Tao with tears in her eyes asking, "What exactly do you want to do? You are of the Zhu family."
To be born in the Zhu family meant owing them effort, being the Fang family's dogsbody.
The chasm between prominent households ran deeper than he'd imagined.
He had been too naive in the past, thinking he could still make personal ties, thinking a side branch could securely hold power. But by marrying into the Tao family, he had become a bridge between them and the Zhu house.
There was no escape.
"I'm quite alright," said Xu Mo. His refined features betrayed no joy or anger. "It's Brother Zhu who seems a little uncomfortable."
After a such a polite exchange, it was as if nothing were amiss between friends.
"I'm fine, I'm perfectly fine," Zhu Sihuan replied with difficulty.
Qi Huai rolled his eyes. "Of course you're doing wonderfully. Master Sihuan's reputation was trumpeted for the sake of marrying a wife. Now your darling nestles in your arms, no need to fear the winds or rains, so you overturned the boat that once ferried you across the waters."
The other students listened intently for gossip with solemn expressions.
"Yes, but I..." Zhu Sihuan steeled himself. "I only spoke the truth."
There had been plagiarism, it was true. He had no choice but to demolish his own reputation, suffering a blow himself in the process.
It was essentially self-harm to inflict greater damage on the enemy.
Though the name "Master Sihuan" had weakened over the past two years, it was still a fine reputation that granted him smooth sailing in Wenchang Pavilion. Smashing it to pieces now would only invite countless jeers.
The students condemned fraud and plagiarism fairly, heaping scorn on those with empty reputations.
"So Brother Zhu revealed these ugly truths just to ruin Xu?" Xu Mo rose to his feet, eyebrows still tranquil. "Was it a mission assigned by the Zhu house? Now that it's out in the open, why not elaborate for everyone?"
He turned and recounted a tragic love story for the crowd.
The male protagonist was a young scion of a prominent house. Lacking sufficient literary talent to pass the imperial examinations, the maiden he loved could only marry a vicious heir apparent for his examination laurels.
The youth's dissatisfaction was only exacerbated upon discovering the examination passer had even secretly fathered illegitimate children outside, unable to bear his beloved suffer such treatment.
First, he created trouble with the mistress's existence. Then he desperately begged a friend to ghostwrite in order to accumulate literary prestige. Finally, swayed by admiration, the maiden's clan acquiesced to the marriage.
Xu Mo's tone was composed, voice cold. He narrated the tale evenly, steeping each twist in poignant drama that kept the scholars enraptured.
Those prone to sentimentality even shed tears for the lovers who finally united and the earnest youth who strove to claim his love.
What was wrong with striving for one's desires?
If there were truly any wrong, it would be his unscrupulous means of obtaining a reputation that wasn't his through ghostwriting.
But veiled in a tragic romance, in the yearning hearts of romantic literati, it took on new heights.
"He resorted to ghostwriting just for his beloved! A wife attained as such, what more could she ask for?" someone declaimed passionately. "How fortunate for the maiden in the tale! Does she live well?"
Xu Mo did not reply, only looking to Zhu Sihuan who now wept.
"She does," the youth in the story raised his head, tears finally trailing down his cheeks. "She said examination credentials were important, but a husband who understood her warmth and chill even more so. A side branch may not be as precious as the main heir, but it could still shield her from storms."
Without deep affection, how could he bear to ruthlessly pit his friend for the sake of his wife's single remark?
Without fear of loss, how could a single misstep lead to ceaseless mistakes?
"Brother Xu, I am willing to reveal everything. I begged you to ghostwrite. I knocked down the stones as you fell into the pit. I did it all." Zhu Sihuan gritted his teeth. "I won't claim helplessness. I will only tell everyone that the poem which shot me to fame definitely came from Young Master Qingzhu's hands."
More of a clarification than knocking someone when they were down.
Taking all the blame onto himself, he pulled Xu Mo from the mire.
At least it certified the writings were his own work, did it not?
Another commotion swept the crowd as discussions broke out again.
"Although this Master Sihuan used a ghostwriter, his deep affection moves heaven and earth. It's understandable."
"If a single poem could win back a beloved maiden, I would definitely kowtow to Young Master Qingzhu."
"Now that Young Master Qingzhu's authorship is confirmed, doesn't it mean those other poems and lyrics were also authentically his own work without any ghostwriting?"
"Exactly! Young Master Qingzhu is too amazing, using a poem to obtain lovers' promises."
There was no vilification, no scorn, no repulsion, not even malice.
Just boundless exclamations that left Zhu Sihuan frozen in place.
How could this be?
He raised his head, meeting the smile in Xu Mo's eyes.
