Chapter 19: Two Brothers' Verses—Who Will Shine?

The thought crossed Qin Yan’s mind, but he quickly put it aside.

Meanwhile, several rounds into the apprenticeship banquet, the atmosphere was lively. Candles filled the hall with light, illuminating flushed faces. Cups were raised and lowered amid laughter and conversation.

After meeting Qin, Wei Nisheng had been seated at the far end of the table. He drank tea quietly, neither servile nor arrogant. Wei Shouzheng sat just below Qin, smiling, though he was deeply displeased. Since Nisheng’s arrival, conversation at his own apprenticeship banquet had drifted elsewhere.

“The Wei family’s second son is not at all what one would expect from his appearance. When I heard about yesterday, I thought it was merely a rumor. Seeing his bearing today, I believe it.”

“At ten, he drew a sword to kill a slave, defending his honor and upholding his household’s rules. His Majesty even mentioned it…”

An upright scholar beside the speaker nodded. “The Wei family’s second son has such spirit. He is indeed worthy of Lord Wenduan.”

Every word reached Shouzheng. His smile grew stiffer. Damn it, today was the day he entered Master Qin’s school! Why was everyone paying attention to Nisheng? He, Wei Shouzheng, was supposed to be the center of the occasion!

He drained his tea and rose. “Honored elders and guests, your student has something to say, if I may.”

All eyes turned to him. Smiling, he addressed Nisheng warmly. “Second Brother, your reputation as a spirited boy has spread throughout the capital these past days and brought honor to our family. I’m delighted.”

What was he planning now? Nisheng looked up but said nothing.

Shouzheng turned back to Qin and the guests. “Today is my apprenticeship banquet, and great scholars and upright men are gathered here. How could such an occasion be complete without poetry?

“I have little talent, but I would like to compose a lyric with my younger brother to entertain our guests. Let our elders see that the Wei sons have spirit and literary learning as well.”

Mingde saw through his eldest son’s impatience. He knew Nisheng’s circumstances: the boy had received only the same elementary instruction as Shouzheng and had never had a proper tutor. How could he compose a lyric? Yet remembering recent events, Mingde was about to intervene when Shouzheng turned to Qin and bowed.

“Teacher, what do you think?”

Qin had drunk several cups, his face was flushed, and he was in high spirits. He clapped his hands and laughed. “Good! An excellent suggestion!”

He looked at Nisheng with anticipation. “The Wei family is a house of integrity; the elder son studies well, and the younger has spirit. If we can have fine verses today too, it will be like two jade discs shining together! We must drink to that.”

Mingde could no longer object and could only smile along. Qin set down his cup, stroked his beard and considered.

“Since this is an apprenticeship banquet and the Wei family has two outstanding sons, let the theme be ‘The Two Jades of the Wei Family.’ Each of you compose a lyric. How is that?”

In other words, each would be writing about himself. The guests called their approval.

“Shouzheng, you’re the elder. You first.”

Confident, Shouzheng rose and bowed. “As you wish, Teacher.”

“Bring brush and ink!”

Servants quickly laid out brush and paper and ground the ink. The guests waited in silence. Once everything was ready, Shouzheng went to the center of the hall, stood with his hands behind his back, then took the brush and began writing. He had prepared this lyric for the banquet long ago, so he wrote quickly.

*To the tune of “Huanxisha”: Composed at the Banquet*

In splendid halls a feast is laid today;
Honored guests have come with joy to say
Two loving brothers share the jade-bright way.

A teacher’s honored guidance shows the road;
His care will help fine writing bloom and grow.
From now, each step will lift me toward the clouds.

When he finished reciting, he bowed slightly to the company. The guests applauded politely. One nodded. “Proper and appropriate to the occasion.”

Zhou Yan, an assistant director in the Ministry of Works, smiled. “Your words are elegant and your meaning clear, Shouzheng. Your characters are neat too. You have the look of a scholar.”

Anyone with an ear could tell the lyric was a collection of conventional phrases, without originality or genuine feeling. Qin merely nodded. The boy was ten, after all, so he offered a word of praise. “Your foundations are sound enough, Shouzheng. But… you still need practice.”

Shouzheng’s smile stiffened for an instant. Then he recovered and answered modestly, “Teacher is right. I must work harder.”

He returned to his seat and looked at Nisheng, a flash of satisfaction in his eyes. His own lyric might be ordinary, but what could this useless brother produce after only a few days of basic instruction?

……

Once Shouzheng finished, every gaze fell on Nisheng. Mingde clenched his hand, uneasy. He feared Nisheng would embarrass himself and disgrace the Weis; he also feared the boy had something prepared that would humiliate his eldest son.

Nisheng rose without hurry and walked to the center of the hall. While Wei An ground the ink, he lowered his eyes in thought.

He knew plenty of lyrics. Almost any one could astonish the room, but he couldn’t use them now. Many had been written by poets in his former life after years of experience and reversals of fortune. He was only ten. If he produced such a work, would the great scholars and upright men present believe it? People in ancient times weren’t fools; they would see the problem at once. The time, place and circumstances were all against passing off another’s work. He couldn’t use any of those famous pieces.

It seemed he would have to compose something himself. It wasn’t as if he had never written poetry or lyrics before.

He raised his head, resolve in his eyes. His brush moved readily, and he recited as he wrote.

*To the tune of “Zhegutian”: Composed at the Banquet*

Ten years shut away behind a covered door;
One day my sword restored our family’s name.
The guests are startled, gathered in this hall:
Who says a poor house cannot yield a jade?

I keep my grandsire’s teaching, guard our rules;
A steadfast heart flies upward toward the sun.
Today, let every cup of wine be drained;
Tomorrow, watch me rise beyond the clouds.

As the lyric ended, many remembered the old verse about the younger son drinking leftover broth and sleeping on a bed of ice. Together with the story of Nisheng drawing his sword against a wicked servant, it suggested to them that the child had not been violent without cause: he had endured for ten years and burst forth in a single day.

Zhou Yan couldn’t help murmuring his admiration. “Who says a poor house cannot yield a jade? Excellent!”

The lines about keeping his grandfather’s teaching and guarding the rules said that he had not forgotten his grandfather and had set his heart toward the light. The final lines told the guests to drink today and watch him pursue his lofty ambitions in the future.

When he finished, the hall fell still. There was nothing affected in the lyric, only the heart of a spirited boy.