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Chapitre 34

Qinlou

In the spring of the sixth year of the Xining era, Wang Anshi, in order to cultivate talents needed for governing the country who were full of new reform spirit, completely abandoned the old ideas, and were determined to make progress, decided to compile new teaching materials for academies and establish a new school of thought that was different from traditional Confucianism. Through systematic education, he aimed to make students across the country recognize the rationality of the reform, unify their thoughts and morality, and lay the theoretical foundation for the "reform".

Prior to this, he, Wang Pang, and the elites of the New Party had been preparing for this for several years. They selected the earliest collection of poems, the "Mao Shi" (毛诗), the "Shang Shu" (尚书), which recorded important historical documents and major historical events of the Zhou Dynasty, and the "Zhou Li" (周礼), which recorded the political system of the Zhou Dynasty, from dozens of Confucian classics as carriers. They would make new interpretations of these classics according to the ideology of the New Party and compile them into the "New Learning" textbook "New Interpretations of the Three Classics" (新经毛诗义), "New Interpretations of the Shang Shu" (尚书义), and "New Interpretations of the Zhou Li" (周礼义), and establish them as the theoretical basis for the reform.

Now that the conditions and timing were ripe, Wang Anshi formally proposed to the emperor the establishment of the Bureau of Classical Studies to compile new interpretations of the Three Classics. His proposal was supported by Emperor Zhao Xu. On the day of Gengxu in the third month of the sixth year of the Xining era, Zhao Xu issued an edict to establish the Bureau of Classical Studies to compile interpretations of the Three Classics: the Book of Poetry, the Book of Documents, and the Rites of Zhou. He appointed Wang Anshi to oversee the work, with Lü Huiqing and Wang Pang as co-authors.

Since *The New Interpretation of the Three Classics* was to be used as a textbook in academies, it would inevitably serve as the standard for future imperial examinations. Seeing this, Privy Councilor Wen Yanbo was deeply worried, fearing that officials selected by the court would all be newcomers raised on *The New Interpretation of the Three Classics*, leading to the New Party's dominance. He immediately consulted with Vice Privy Councilor Wu Chong, asking him to jointly recommend the Neo-Confucian scholar Cheng Hao to the Bureau of Classical Studies to participate in the compilation of *The New Interpretation of the Three Classics*, so that Cheng Hao could counterbalance Lü Huiqing and Wang Pang and prevent them from changing traditional Confucian classics. Wu Chong himself disapproved of the New Party's actions and had nearly broken with Wang Anshi due to his son's affair. Therefore, he and Wen Yanbo readily agreed, jointly submitting a memorial to the emperor requesting that Cheng Hao be included in the compilation of *The New Interpretation of the Three Classics*.

Upon learning of this, Wang Pang firmly opposed it and, along with Lü Huiqing, separately submitted memorials to Zhao Xu, attempting to prevent him from approving the proposals of Wen and Wu. Zhao Xu hesitated, so Wang Pang repeatedly went to the palace to meet with the emperor, advising him directly: "Cheng Hao is a vulgar Confucian scholar who adheres rigidly to Neo-Confucianism, only good at rote memorization. He previously acted solely according to Sima Guang's wishes, lacking any independent thought. If he is allowed to join the Bureau of Classical Texts, he will surely cling to rigid doctrines such as 'Heaven does not change, nor does the Way,' to obstruct the compilation of new interpretations. If this is the case, it is better not to compile new interpretations at all!"

Emperor Zhao Xu still found it difficult to decide. He had a habit of simultaneously appointing members of both the old and new factions to important state institutions. Although he personally trusted Wang Anshi and strongly supported and promoted the implementation of the reforms, he always intentionally or unintentionally reserved certain positions in important institutions for officials of the old faction, maintaining a delicate balance. Therefore, with the establishment of the Bureau of Classical Studies, he was quite inclined to adopt the suggestion of Wen Yanbo and Wu Chong to place Cheng Hao there.

Upon seeing this, Wang Pang solemnly bowed and said sternly, "Those who follow different paths cannot work together. My understanding of the Three Classics is vastly different from Cheng Hao's. If Your Majesty insists on allowing Cheng Hao to join the Bureau of Classical Interpretation, I can only ask Your Majesty to allow me to withdraw from the work of compiling the New Interpretation."

Seeing his resolute attitude, Zhao Xu had no choice but to agree and cancel Cheng Hao's plan to join the Bureau of Classical Studies.

From then on, Wang Pang devoted himself wholeheartedly to this arduous task. Day and night, he was accompanied by the Book of Poetry, the Book of Documents, and the Rites of Zhou, sometimes deep in thought, sometimes writing furiously, discarding and selecting, deleting and adding, and revising, writing down his and his father's fearless courage, passionate enthusiasm, enterprising spirit, and self-confidence to stubbornness in their "New Interpretations of the Three Classics" with vigorous and unrestrained strokes.

In this way, it was as if he had completely forgotten about his wife, who lived alone in a high-rise building. He remained indifferent to her, ignoring her completely, and even when he occasionally saw her, he treated her as if she were a stranger.

Pang Di developed a habit of diluting her pain with tears while living alone, but she never shed tears in front of others, only allowing herself to weep quietly when she was awake at night.

During the day, she would plant some flowers and plants upstairs. With her careful care, those plants would grow thriving and full of vitality, while she would gradually become haggard, her spirit slowly being drained from her body. She felt that her body would soon die along with her heart.

Playing the zither all night was her only pastime. She would recall, one by one, all the pieces she had played with Wang Pang since they met, and then play them one by one. But now there was no one to play the flute to accompany her, and the zither music echoed in the Wenxing Tower, making it seem even more desolate.

On the night of the Double Seventh Festival in the sixth year of the Xining era, Pang Di leaned on the railing and gazed at the Cowherd and Weaver Girl stars shining brightly in the night sky. She thought that although the Cowherd and Weaver Girl were usually separated by the Milky Way, separated by a mere stream, unable to speak to each other, they could always meet on the Double Seventh Festival every year. Just like tonight, they could meet on the Magpie Bridge to relieve their longing. Although there was no Milky Way separating her and her husband, they were as close as the ends of the earth. She could see where he lived from her tower, but for the two of them, this distance seemed to be the farthest distance in the world. Even though it was the Double Seventh Festival tonight, she could not find a Magpie Bridge that could reunite them.

She recalled the Qixi Festival two years ago, not long after her marriage. Back then, she and Wang Pang were deeply in love, so inseparable. That night, she played the zither Wang Pang had given her, while he stood beside her playing the flute. Under the soft starlight, their harmonious and melodious duet lingered. Occasionally, their eyes would meet, and in those fleeting moments, a warm smile would emanate from each other's eyes. When the piece ended, he led her to sit up and admire the stars, gently embracing her from behind. He asked her how the stars were, then bent down to lightly kiss her ear and inhale the delicate fragrance of her hair. She felt a ticklish sensation and couldn't help but laugh out loud…

Unfortunately, this love can only be relived in memories. Tonight, the starlight is as it always was, but everything has changed. Qin E's dream of the moon over Qin Tower is now shattered.

She silently wiped away her tears, returned to her room, picked up her brush, and wrote a seven-character poem, "Ode to the Qin Tower":

Two years ago, on the seventh night of the seventh lunar month, the moon shone like silver, and I wove the melody of a flute to accompany my new zither. My rosy makeup reflected in the mirror, a radiant smile; my brows furrowed slightly as I faced my beloved. Now, all that remains is a dream, and tears of sorrow kiss my handkerchief. The vow we made to each other in old age still echoes in my ears, but the mist shrouds the towering building, and I can no longer see you.

After writing it, I looked at it with tears in my eyes, feeling an overwhelming sadness. I couldn't help but bury my face in my hands and weep, staining the poem with my own tears. I don't know how much time passed, but gradually I cried until I had no strength left, and then I lay down on the table and drifted off to sleep.

Through her hazy vision, she seemed to see Wang Pang push open the door and enter, pick up the poem, glance at it, and ask with a smile, "Why did you write such a melancholy poem? I don't like it." He then crumpled it into a ball and threw it away. Then he gently embraced her, kissed away her tear stains, and softly said, "I have always loved you. How can you doubt that?"

She was both overjoyed and saddened; though nestled in his arms, tears still streamed down her face.

He sighed. Suddenly, he released her and walked out.

Pang Di was startled. She opened her eyes and looked around but saw no one. She stood up and chased after him, but the door was still empty and there was nothing unusual. She then realized that she was probably dreaming. How could Wang Pang be so gentle to her now?

He sighed deeply and slowly returned to his room. Remembering the poem he had just written, he looked at the table, only to find that the poem was gone.

She was very surprised and searched everywhere but couldn't find it. Finally, she gave up, thinking that perhaps it had been blown away by the wind.

The next evening, she played the zither as usual to pass the time. She repeatedly played "Remembering the Flute on the Phoenix Terrace," the song Wang Pang had played for her on their wedding night, thinking about their wedding day. Her emotions fluctuated between joy and sorrow, and she was lost in thought.

Suddenly, a melodious flute sound came from the courtyard where Wang Pang lived. It was clear and melodious, and one could tell from the sound that it was Wang Pang's jade flute.

She was overjoyed and immediately ran out to look in that direction, but she could only see Wang Pang's room window. The courtyard was mostly blocked by the roof, so she couldn't see the scene inside, and naturally, she couldn't see Wang Pang either.

But he was willing to play the flute, and upon closer listening, it was the same piece she had just played, "Remembering the Flute on Phoenix Terrace." So, was he intentionally playing a duet with her? Like before?

She immediately sat down again and continued playing the zither, following the notes the flute was currently playing. Feeling joyful, the music became lighter and more cheerful, no longer as mournful as before.

After finishing one piece, she paused briefly before beginning to play "Tired of Seeking Fragrance" again. Wang Pang had written a poem for her titled "Tired of Seeking Fragrance" after their first meeting, and thus this piece became one of her favorite pieces.

The sound of the xiao (vertical flute) rose again, and indeed it was her zither playing, the melody of "Tired of Seeking Fragrance." The xiao's sound was melodious, blending a faint melancholy with tenderness.

She continued playing with a smile, feeling as if she had returned to the past, rediscovering the loving times she and her husband had missed.

Every two or three days thereafter, she would hear the sound of a flute harmonizing with her zither music rising from Wang Pang's courtyard. Pang Di thus fell in love with these nights; only then could she temporarily forget her unfortunate fate and wholeheartedly immerse herself in playing with him, engaging in a spiritual exchange, feeling his love and tenderness through his flute music—feelings and emotions she couldn't experience during the day. Each time their playing continued until late at night, and his flute music ceased, she felt a strange sense of loss and melancholy, thus hating the arrival of daylight and sincerely longing for the next nightfall.

A long time passed like this. One night, she played a duet with him until midnight, and gradually felt that the sound of the flute seemed to be getting closer and closer to her. At first, she thought it was just her imagination, but the feeling became stronger and stronger, as if he had already walked downstairs playing the flute and was slowly going up the stairs.

He came to see me? He finally decided to come see me? Pang Di's heart began to pound uncontrollably. He's here, but how should I face him? What should I say to him? And how will he treat me?

This feeling was like that of a girl experiencing first love. She secretly scolded herself for her panic. As his flute music drew closer, her fingerwork on the zither became hesitant. Gradually, she struggled to find a tune, and finally, as his figure appeared at the door, her music abruptly stopped.

His flute playing stopped. His shadow was clearly visible, standing right outside the door, but he seemed to be hesitating, reluctant to push the door open and come in.

Pang Di and he were separated by a door, each remaining silent.

Suddenly, his shadow moved, as if it had turned around and taken a step back.

Is he leaving again? No, we can't let him run away like this again. He finally mustered up the courage to come up here, how can he leave without even seeing me?

Pang Di quickly got up, opened the door, and called out in a trembling voice to the retreating figure, "Pang!"

He turned his head.

Her smile froze instantly.

Guqin

The man was also startled to see her. The two stared at each other blankly for a long while before he came to his senses, bowed, and said, "Sister-in-law."

Pang Di lowered his head and curtsied in return, saying, "Your Highness, Prince Qi." A sense of desolation spread through his heart, instantly extinguishing any flame of joy.

After returning to the capital, Zhao Hao's life remained largely unchanged. He continued to leisurely handle the unimportant and limited official duties assigned to him by Zhao Xu, then spend his time in the palace reading and painting, playing Cuju (an ancient Chinese football game), and occasionally going out of the city hunting or socializing with his brother-in-law Wang Shen. He rarely expressed his opinions on court affairs, and even when he submitted memorials to Zhao Xu in very important situations, they were invariably rejected, as was the case with Zhao Xu.

He lived his life in this depressed state. After wasting the day, he often didn't know what worthwhile things there would be to look forward to tomorrow.

On the eighth day of the seventh month of the sixth year of the Xining era, as he was preparing to return to the palace after the court session, Wang Pang stopped him. Wang Pang smiled and said to him, "I used to drink with you when you were unhappy. Now it's time for you to repay that favor."

Hao found it strange: Would Wang Pang be unhappy? In his memory, Pang often wore his emotions on his sleeve, but so-called sorrow should have nothing to do with him.

But he wasn't one for many words, he simply smiled and nodded: "Since you have invited me, I am naturally willing to accompany you."

That night, they drank together in the courtyard of the Prime Minister's residence. Wang Pang's expression and attitude were different from usual; he was sometimes overjoyed and sometimes deeply saddened. Sometimes he talked to him about revising the "New Interpretations of the Three Classics," and sometimes he mentioned the poems and songs he had written for his wife. He took out his jade flute and said that the sound of these tunes played on this flute was the most expressive, and thanked Hao for giving it to him. There was a lot of what Hao didn't quite understand, but he listened quietly and drank with Wang Pang when he raised his cup.

Wang Pang drank too much that night and eventually fell into a deep sleep, slumped over the table. Zhao Hao was about to take his leave when he suddenly heard a familiar zither melody coming from somewhere in the garden. After listening carefully, he immediately recognized it as the sound of Wan Ji's Jiao Wei Qin (a type of zither). He had heard it for several years and was absolutely certain of it. In his surprise, he gradually remembered that he was the one who had given this zither to Wang Pang. When he was sorting through Wan Ji's belongings, he had intended to burn the zither as a tribute to his deceased wife, but Wang Pang had stopped him and asked him for it.

Now, upon hearing the music again, a myriad of emotions surged within me. The mournful and plaintive melody was exactly the same as the tunes Wanji used to play every night. In a daze, it was as if he had returned to the time when his beloved wife was alive, and he lingered on the edge of her bittersweet life, amidst her music.

“You can’t let her play the zither alone, immersing herself in her own personal world. You should try to approach and join her in her solitary world. So every time she plays the zither, you can play the flute or pipe and play along with her.” He suddenly remembered Wang Pang’s words of “instruction” to him. He took his advice seriously and did so from then on, thus successfully developing the habit of playing duets with Wan Ji.

So, he subconsciously picked up the jade flute that Wang Pang had placed on the table, brought it to his lips and began to play along with the music. The scene was like a dream, and he didn't want to wake up for the time being.

The music paused briefly, as if startled by him, but then resumed in a moment, a gentle duet between them. He remembered the first time he played the flute in harmony with Wanji while she played the zither; she reacted the same way. It was as if the past was repeating itself.

So he continued playing one piece after another. As the music from both sides became more and more harmonious and integrated, his heart warmed, and he felt a tender warmth that had been lost for a long time.

Wang Pang finally woke up, looked up at him hazily, and smiled, saying, "Was that you playing the flute? It sounds beautiful. It seems this flute was meant to be yours."

He generously gifted the xiao (vertical bamboo flute) to Hao. Hao declined, but the man said, "I no longer have the heart to play musical instruments. If this xiao were to be given to someone else, who would be more suitable than you? Accept it, but you must come and drink with me often and play the xiao for me."

Hao accepted the gift. From then on, he would come every two or three days to drink with Wang Pang in the courtyard. Wang Pang was always very drunk, sometimes falling asleep at the table, sometimes listening to Hao play the flute while intoxicated. The sound of the zither still rang out every night, and they played all the pieces in perfect harmony. Wang Pang should have heard the music, but he seemed used to it, never mentioning who was playing, nor showing any surprise or displeasure at their duet. He simply listened silently, occasionally drinking a cup of wine by himself.

Many times, Hao would wonder who the mysterious zither player was, able to play the same tune as Wanji on her zither. He imagined she, like Wanji, possessed the same delicate and tender heart and elegant, ethereal气质. Even their sorrow was the same, a fact that stirred something within him: what misfortune had she suffered to cause such grief?

However, he couldn't guess her identity at all. Since Wang Pang ignored her music and never mentioned her in front of him, she was probably just an insignificant person in his eyes.

Was she a maid or a courtesan? But could those lowly people possess such exquisite and subtle emotions and talent?

He couldn't understand it.

Finally, he couldn't suppress his curiosity any longer. On another night when the flute and zither played together, he walked past Wang Pang, who was asleep drunk, and headed step by step toward the source of the music.

Reaching her door, he hesitated. Wouldn't it be presumptuous to approach so abruptly? Besides, what difference would it make even if they met? He had no clear desire to get to know this zither player.

So he turned to leave, but she suddenly opened the door.

He never imagined that the person who played such a tune would be Wang Pang's wife.

Didn't Wang Pang love her deeply? Didn't she love Wang Pang just as deeply? During the few days they spent together last time, she acted like a happy little woman the whole time. It was obvious that she was being pampered by her husband. Bathed in this love, she had a confident glow emanating from within, making her radiant. This feeling was especially clear the night they met under the moon.

However, the woman I see now is clearly very different. Pale and haggard, she is so thin that she seems frail. She just called him "Pang," so she considers him her husband. The moment she turned to look at me, her eyes were full of hope and joy, but upon seeing who it was, they immediately dimmed, replaced by boundless disappointment and loneliness.

How could this happen? What went wrong between them?

But he didn't want to think about it any further; he could already sense the unspoken awkwardness between them. After a moment of silence, Hao spoke first: "Was it your wife playing the zither just now?"

That's a pointless statement. But he couldn't think of a better way to deal with the current situation.

She nodded.

"May I see that zither?" Hao asked.

She readily agreed and stepped aside to let him in.

As soon as he entered the door, he saw his beloved wife's zither, which he hadn't seen for a long time. He slowly walked over and gently touched the surface of the zither with his fingers, as if touching his lover's face. A wave of heartache washed over him, and those bitter memories began to gnaw at his nerves again.

Pang Di noticed his unusual behavior and asked, "Has Your Highness seen this zither before?"

Hao smiled bitterly and said, "I've seen it more than once. I spent several years with it and its owner, day and night... It used to belong to my deceased wife."

Pang Di was quite surprised. When Wang Pang gave her the zither, he had said it was the keepsake of a friend's deceased wife. He had also said that the two were very much in love, but fate was cruel, causing the wife to die young. The friend, fearing that seeing the zither would remind him of his wife, wanted to burn it as a memorial. Fortunately, Wang Pang discovered this in time and tricked him into giving the zither to him. But she never expected that the zither actually belonged to the Princess of Qi.

Why didn't Wang Pang explain? But before she could think about that, she realized another problem and hurriedly asked, "Were the flute performances these past few nights all played by Your Highness?"

Hao nodded in agreement.

Pang Di blushed. He knew that the Prince of Qi must have recognized the sound of the Queen Consort's old zither and, moved by the scene, had played with her, placing her in the role of his deceased wife. It turned out that they had been playing together for several nights, each expressing their own feelings, yet it seemed so harmonious, so perfectly coordinated, with warmth flowing between them, their emotions intertwined.

Seeing her like this, Zhao Hao immediately guessed what she was thinking and became flustered as well. After a moment's thought, he said, "I have come uninvited, and I apologize for my abruptness. It is late, and I will take my leave now."

She nodded and saw Zhao Hao to the door.

Unexpectedly, when they reached the stairs, they discovered that the door at the fourth-floor stairwell, which had always been open, was locked from the outside.

Pang Di was shocked. He leaned on the railing and looked down. He saw a woman's figure running out of the building and disappearing into the shadows of the garden in a moment.

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Asking for warmth

The door was locked, so there was no way out. Pang Di opened her mouth to call for the maid downstairs to open the door, but she was worried that it was late at night and that if she called out, everyone in the courtyard would be looking this way. If they saw the Prince of Qi walking downstairs from her room, she would be unable to explain herself.