J'ai passé mon bras autour de la taille fine de l'homme fort

Chapitre 57

It was obvious that she was filling in the blanks for Cao Ping's poem. The paper contained an unfinished version of "Fisherman's Pride":

I lean on my dreams and seek again the path to the Plum Garden, where the imperial garden is filled with crimson blossoms. I sit and watch the white pheasants dance in the sky, from dawn till dusk, and when the song ends, I ask you, "Where have you gone?"

Years have passed, the strings have been broken, how many times has the shuttle been used? The melody is played until the third watch of the night...

Seeing that she was still trying to snatch it, I smiled at her and said, "Stop fighting, Your Highness, I have already read your masterpiece."

She then gave up, stopped fighting, and sat down sullenly, feeling both annoyed and shy. She turned her head to one side, refusing to look at me in a huff.

I reread her poem carefully, and seeing her angry expression, I gradually realized that my behavior had been too rude. So I spoke to her gently and said, "Your Highness, this poem is quite good. When I read it silently, I felt as if I was savoring its beauty and its lingering fragrance."

She glared at me: "I can tell you're not being sincere just by looking at your smile."

This sentence brought a genuine smile to my face. I gazed at her tenderly, and found her every smile and frown captivating, even the way she rolled her eyes when she glared at me was incredibly cute. So, being looked down upon and scolded by her became a blissful experience.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Is my face smudged?" she asked, very uneasy, touching her face with her hand, and sure enough, some ink from her hand got onto her face.

"Yes, there is a little," I said, then pulled out the clean cuff of my white undershirt and wiped away the stain for her.

This gesture deflated her hostility towards me stemming from her anger. She lowered her eyelashes and asked me nervously, "Is my writing still terrible?"

I shook my head and encouraged her, "You write much better now than before."

She smiled happily. I smiled back at her and pointed to the unfolded paper: "Let's finish writing."

“Sigh,” she sighed dejectedly, “I couldn’t get the last few lines right, so I stopped writing here.”

"Are you still deciding between round taro or pickled taro?" I asked.

She chuckled. Perhaps remembering her childhood experience of writing lyrics, she felt embarrassed. She covered her face with her hands and laughed, but as she laughed, she slightly opened her fingers, her smiling, crescent-shaped eyes peeking at me through them.

I looked at her with a smile, recalling her poem. After a moment's thought, I picked up my pen again and finished her unfinished line: "I also intend to imitate the mistake of Yi Gong, Zhou Lang glances back, longing only passes between my brows."

After I finished writing, I put down my pen and let her read it. Her eyes lit up after reading it, and she seemed satisfied, but she glanced at me furtively, her cheeks flushing again. Looking at the last sentence, she whispered, "But, but..."

I suggested to Yan: "If the princess feels that the word 'longing for love' is too straightforward, it would be acceptable to change it to 'longing for separation'."

“What’s there to change…” she said, blushing. “I never said I was going to use it… I just wrote those words for fun, I wasn’t writing them for anyone to see…”

As she finished speaking, her voice sounded like a muttering. She tore the paper off the table, crumpled it into a ball, but this time she didn't throw it in the wastebasket. Instead, she held it in her palm and quietly ran out of the study.

I walked slowly to the window, watching her walk away with a sense of melancholy. Then I looked up at the sky—where the bright sun shone—but my heart began to feel like it was raining.

The Lonely City Closes (The Princess Who Fell in Love with a Eunuch) Falling Flowers and Wind Play with Clear Autumn Rain 48. Love Affairs

Chapter word count: 3051 Update time: 08-08-21 16:20

48. Affair

I didn't ask the princess about "Fisherman's Pride" again, but there was no doubt that the poem had reached Cao Ping. She would try to get it delivered, perhaps through Cao Er Guniang, or perhaps by ordering Zhang Chengzhao to pass it on—he would always do anything to please the princess without any principles... Thinking about this, I felt a little contempt for myself: wasn't my act of adding the poem for the princess also without any principles? Knowing full well that there would be no future for her and Cao Ping, and that letting things develop would be dangerous, I still encouraged her to do so.

I find it difficult to explain my behavior, and I don't want to think about it too deeply, for fear that if I delve deeper, I will encounter reasons that I cannot accept.

In December of that year, the Emperor decided to personally visit the Imperial Academy outside the Zhuque Gate to offer sacrifices to Confucius, inspect the school buildings, and listen to lectures by the lecturing officials.

The dynasty reveres Confucianism and emphasizes the education of its students. This was an annual ceremony, but this time, the princess proposed to accompany the emperor to listen to the lectures of the renowned Imperial Academy lecturer, Hu Yuan. The emperor immediately refused, stating that it was unprecedented for a woman to attend a sacrificial ceremony and lectures at the Imperial Academy, and absolutely unacceptable. The princess pleaded repeatedly, saying that she could skip the ceremony, and that wherever the emperor went, there were imperial tents to conceal him, and where the emperor rested, there were imperial screens and yellow silk curtains. If she remained hidden within these, she would not be seen. She would simply sit behind the imperial screen during the lectures, so no one would know.

The Emperor still refused. The princess pouted and stared at her father for a long time. Suddenly, she sighed and said sadly, "The thing I regret most in my life is that I was not born a man so that I could study the classics and strategies under the guidance of a famous teacher and share the burden of my busy father."

These words struck at the heart of the Emperor's heart. His eyes suddenly reddened, and after quietly turning his head to wipe the corner of his eye, he finally relented: "Alright, you shall come with me. But you must be careful in your actions and conduct, and do not be disrespectful before the throne of King Wenxuan."

Hu Yuan was the most famous scholar of the dynasty, currently serving as a lecturer at the Imperial Academy. He usually oversaw the academy, which had three to four hundred students. Whenever he lectured, outsiders would often come to listen, sometimes drawing crowds of up to a thousand. When the lecture hall couldn't accommodate everyone, the students would stand outside to listen. He was a skilled teacher, and many of his disciples passed the imperial examinations. In recent years, four or five out of ten of the Jinshi (successful candidates in the highest imperial examinations) selected by the Ministry of Rites were his students. These students often dressed and looked very similar, so much so that even strangers could easily recognize them as Hu Yuan's disciples.

However, the princess's insistence on attending the lecture suggests that she probably didn't genuinely want to witness the brilliance of the renowned teacher, Hu Yuan.

In the capital of the Qing Dynasty, there were two official schools: the Imperial Academy and the National Academy. The National Academy admitted the sons of officials of the eighth rank and below, as well as outstanding commoners, while the Imperial Academy was a place for the sons and grandsons of officials of the seventh rank and above to study and receive education—and Cao Ping was a student of the Imperial Academy.

That day, the Emperor indeed took the princess with him to the Imperial Academy. After entering the gate in his palanquin, he had the princess rest in the rear hall. Then the Emperor ascended to the main hall, went before the tablet of Confucius (the King of Literature), offered incense three times, knelt to receive the libation, offered wine three times, and bowed twice. Only after completing all the rites did he go into his tent to change his clothes.

On this day, the princess wore a round-necked blue robe and a lacquered gauze headdress, dressed in an unassuming manner, looking like an ordinary female official. Moreover, she was walking in the imperial tent, so she did not attract any attention.

The Emperor changed his crown and hat, put on a red overcoat, a jade belt, and silk shoes. He then ascended to the main hall of the lecture hall and sat down. Behind him was an imperial screen, and the princess sat behind the screen. I stood beside her.

The accompanying ministers, officials in charge of the classics, lecturers, officials from the Imperial Academy, and students successively bowed and said, "May Your Majesty enjoy boundless blessings." Then the emperor granted them seats, and everyone responded with a "yes." Except for the officials in charge of the classics and lecturers, everyone took their seats to listen to the lecture.

All the students were dressed in identical white robes and sat on the ground inside and outside the main hall, listening respectfully to the lecturer Hu Yuan as he spoke. When I entered the hall, I observed carefully and saw that Cao Ping was seated under the eaves outside the hall.

Hu Yuan was sixty-three years old that year, with white hair and long eyebrows, a dignified appearance, and a clean and neat scarlet official robe, almost without a single wrinkle. It is said that even in the height of summer, he would meticulously wear a double robe and official robe when lecturing, sitting in the hall to strictly observe the teacher-student etiquette. At this moment, as soon as the book was opened and the scriptures were unfurled, the hall and the surrounding area were already quiet. From the emperor down, everyone sat upright, listening attentively with bated breath.

Today, he lectured on a chapter of the *I Ching*, beginning with a clear explanation and then gradually progressing from simple to complex, in a very engaging manner. I listened intently from behind the screen, and wanting to hear more clearly, I unconsciously took a few steps forward, eventually standing quite close to the screen and the Emperor's throne.

Zhang Maoze, who was standing by the throne, saw this and gestured for me to come in. The emperor smiled, pointed to the side of the throne, and nodded to me, indicating that I could listen from here.

Perhaps it was because he loved me that he treated me so kindly; I bowed in thanks and stayed by his side.

At this moment, Hu Yuan spoke of the Qian hexagram. Looking at the scripture in front of him, he read aloud the original text: "Qian, Yuan Heng Li Zhen."

Upon hearing this, all the officials and scholars present looked at each other in astonishment, and even the Emperor himself showed a look of surprise—Hu Yuan had actually disregarded the Emperor's name and loudly proclaimed the character "Zhen".

The person most shocked was probably me. My darkest childhood memory also stemmed from that blunt remark about the word "chastity".

Faced with hundreds of astonished gazes, Hu Yuan remained calm and composed. He bowed to the emperor and explained with four words: "I do not shy away from writing."

Then, he calmly continued his explanation: "Yuan (元) is the head of goodness; Heng (亨) is the gathering of auspiciousness; Li (利) is the harmony of righteousness; Zhen (贞) is the foundation of affairs. A virtuous person embodies benevolence to lead others, gathers auspiciousness to conform to propriety, benefits others to harmonize righteousness, and remains steadfast to accomplish affairs. A virtuous person who practices these four virtues is called Qian (乾), which signifies Yuan, Heng, Li, and Zhen..."

She then unabashedly uttered the word "chastity" three times.

His Majesty lowered his eyes and thought for a moment, then shook his head and smiled, turning to look at me in particular, his smile deepening slightly.