Clutching her small satchel, Yuan Niang ran out the door without even an umbrella, the mocking laughter from the classroom chasing her like a monstrous beast. In her panic, her feet slipped, and the small deerskin bag went flying with a thud, a piece of rice cake tumbling out precariously.
Yuan Niang was utterly aggrieved; even the ground beneath her seemed to be against her! How outrageous! Biting back the pain, she scrambled to her feet, stamped her foot, and cried even louder.
Weeping as she ran, she couldn’t bear the humiliation—how could she have ended up so disgraced after just half a day of school?!
“Yuan Mei!” Chen Ge’er also dashed out of the classroom, carrying his bookbag.
Hearing the call, Yuan Niang only ran faster.
The Su Family’s carriage had already returned and wasn’t waiting outside the school. Now, she had no choice but to run back to Su Mansion on foot.
Fortunately, the school wasn’t far from Su Mansion, but Hangzhou was a maze of houses and winding alleys. As a natural-born direction-challenged person, she couldn’t tell one lane from another! She only remembered that Su Mansion had many bamboo plants at its entrance—if she could find the bamboo, she could find her way home.
Who would have thought finding home could be so difficult!
Hugging her small deerskin satchel, she sniffled despondently. Eventually, worn out from walking, she had to sit down on a high platform to rest—pitiful and bedraggled, like a abandoned puppy.
After leaving the school, Chen Ge’er watched Yuan Niang disappear from sight. He searched lane after lane but couldn’t find her anywhere. Fearful that she might encounter child-snatchers and be kidnapped, and worried that he’d be punished at home for losing his sister, he broke out in a cold sweat from anxiety.
But he made a quick decision: he would first return home to report the situation, so that household staff could be mobilized to search for her. That would be better than him aimlessly searching for a needle in a haystack.
However, before he even reached home, he ran into Su Shi, who had just returned from his official duties. Su Shi was riding a tall green horse, heading in the direction of Su Mansion. At first glance, he was momentarily startled to see Chen Ge’er. After calling the boy over and hearing his story, Su Shi understood what had happened.
Su Shi immediately ordered his attendants to take Chen Ge’er back to the residence to gather help, while he himself turned his horse around to search for Yuan Niang.
Chen Ge’er refused, insisting on joining the search.
Su Shi commanded him to return home first and change out of his wet clothes before anything else. Then, whipping his horse into a gallop, he rode off calling, “Yuan Niang—Yuan Niang—”
The early spring wind still carried a chilly breath, with drizzling rain and snow falling incessantly. Yuan Niang’s eyes were red-rimmed—she was still crying!
In all her life, she had never suffered the humiliation of being an academic failure! And today, she had actually been mocked by those three-foot-tall children! Well, from now on, whenever people mentioned “Su Shi’s disciple,” there would be no kind words. She might even go down in history in this era for being both Su Shi’s student and someone who couldn’t compose poetry! No, please no! The more she thought about it, the more frightened she became, filled with both self-pity and guilt.
She had already cried so much that her eyes were dry, but at this realization, tears poured down like a torrential rain.
The early spring plum blossoms rustled down in the wind. Sitting by West Lake, Yuan Niang began to ponder life, her small face etched with profound bitterness and resentment, wrinkled like a steamed bun.
After a long while, she sighed. But then she noticed that somehow the rain and snow were no longer drifting into her collar, even though the weather hadn’t cleared up.
Suddenly snapping back to reality, she looked up and saw Su Shi standing beside her, holding a green oil-paper umbrella. His sleeves fluttered gracefully in the wind, his posture as straight and noble as a green pine tree. He had tilted the entire umbrella over her, leaving half of his own robe and sleeves dampened by the rain and snow.
“Master!” Yuan Niang started up in surprise, forgetting her embarrassment as she shifted the blue silk umbrella toward him.
“Did someone wrong you? Why didn’t you come find your master?” Su Shi asked softly.
Yuan Niang flushed with shame. How could she face him?!
“I searched everywhere but couldn’t find you. I thought you’d abandoned your master,” Su Shi continued.
Yuan Niang shook her head and murmured, “I just got lost.” Why was she always so foolish?!
Actually, she had resolved to stop crying, but seeing her master suddenly made all her grievances resurface. Like a young beast licking its wounds alone – it could endure when no one cared, but once someone showed care and affection, it became unbearable. Waves of bitterness and sourness surged from her heart to her throat, and tears fell like rain.
Well, she wasn’t just crying because her inability to compose poetry had made her the laughingstock and brought shame to her master. There was another crucial reason – that “Elementary School Poetry Anthology” had cost her two hundred wen!!!
A full two hundred wen! Was she some wealthy person?! That black-hearted glutton!!!
There would be many future expenses. A single wen could stump a hero, let alone two hundred wen going down the drain – how could she not be furious?!
If learned scholars had mocked “Ode to the Plum Blossom,” it might have been tolerable. But what right did those little brats have?
Su Shi used a dry handkerchief to wipe her small face, but after quite some time, the tears still hadn’t stopped. He sighed, “If you keep crying like this, you’ll drain West Lake dry.”
Yuan Niang laughed through her tears, apologizing between sobs: “Master, I’m sorry I embarrassed you!”
Su Shi said, “You’re still so young. Who expects someone who’s just learned to speak clearly to compose poetry? How could Song Laoxiucai be so impatient to force growth?! If this school isn’t suitable, I’ll find you another.”
Yuan Niang declined gently: “It’s not Song Laoxiucai’s fault. Other schools would be the same. After all, who wouldn’t be curious about the master’s disciple? But… I truly can’t compose poetry.”
Su Shi encouraged her: “Learning poetry takes time. Besides, the poem you recited in class wasn’t bad.”
Yuan Niang bit her lip. That wasn’t hers either. She had just taken advantage of Bridge Master’s absence to plagiarize, only to be mocked by everyone.
Such misfortune and hardship! When others plagiarized, the natives would admire and worship them, nearly enshrining them as literary masters for generations. But when it came to her, even eight- or nine-year-old children mocked her? When her master said the poem was good, he was probably just comforting her.
Yuan Niang broke out in a cold sweat for herself. If she had traveled to before the Tang Dynasty, she could have borrowed from Li Bai, Du Fu, Yuan Zhen, Bai Juyi, Liu Zongyuan, Liu Yuxi, Su Shi, or Xin Qiji. But now, even if she bundled all the writers from Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties together, they’d still be outshone by these naturally talented predecessors. Any further borrowing would be meaningless.
After this experience, she knew she needed to focus on original creations.
Yuan Niang wiped her face with her master’s handkerchief, then sighed as she gazed at the beautiful lakeside scenery in the distance. Having vented enough self-pity, she resolved to turn over a new leaf and start anew!
Su Shi also quietly breathed a sigh of relief. He patted her head comfortingly and said, “Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Your grand-teacher wasn’t skilled in tonal patterns and couldn’t compose those hollow and strange Xikun style poems, repeatedly failing the imperial exams. Later, he devoted himself to studying literature and eventually became a great Confucian scholar.”
Yuan Niang nodded. She had memorized Su Xun’s “On the Six States” before – who would have thought Su Xun, one of the Eight Great Masters of the Tang and Song, had such a troubled past?!
The suffocating shame in her heart gradually eased a little.
Su Shi cleared his throat and continued revealing secrets: “Even your teacher encountered some minor mishaps during the imperial examinations back then.”
“Hmm?” Yuan Niang perked up attentively. The imperial examination her teacher took in the second year of Jiayou was known as the Millennium’s First Dragon and Tiger List, producing countless legendary scenes. Many exceptional talents who passed or failed became household names for later generations. Judging by her teacher’s expression, there seemed to be more gossip?!
Two faint patches of embarrassment colored Su Shi’s cheeks as he lowered his voice to expose his old wounds: “During the Ministry of Rites examination that year, there were four subjects: policy analysis, discourse, poetry, and prose interpretation. Your teacher ranked first in two subjects, second in discourse, yet ultimately received a fourth-class placement in the second tier. Do you know why?”
Yuan Niang blinked and said slowly, “Ah? Could it be… there was an issue with the poetry section?”
“My clever student indeed.” Su Shi patted her head approvingly. “Your teacher ranked at the bottom in poetry, nearly failing altogether.”
Yuan Niang’s jaw dropped. This was utterly unexpected! Who would believe it? This was Su Shi they were talking about! Su Shi was telling her he almost botched the imperial exams because of poetry!!
With how many beloved poems Su Shi had left to posterity, who would believe he was once mediocre at composition?!
“So you mustn’t feel inadequate about struggling with poetry. As my disciple, it’s completely normal for you to lack skill in poetry – I wasn’t good at it either in my youth.” Su Shi took her small deerskin satchel and tied it to his umbrella handle before bending down to scoop her up in his arms.
Yuan Niang resisted slightly, murmuring sheepishly, “My clothes are covered in mud stains. I’ll dirty your official robes.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Su Shi said.
She was already securely cradled in her teacher’s embrace. The only shelter from the biting wind and rain was her teacher’s arms. Nestling her small head against his shoulder, she finally asked after a long pause, “Is everything you said true, Teacher? But normally so many people beg for your poems and calligraphy – everyone considers it an honor to receive your verses.”
Seeing her spirits had lifted, Su Shi smiled and nodded. “Of course it’s all true. But your teacher is studious – I later made up for all the knowledge I lacked in poetry composition.”
Yuan Niang let out a growl and chomped down on his official robe, gritting her teeth: “I’ll fight you natural talents to the death!!”
Su Shi laughed heartily, holding her with one arm while grasping the umbrella with the other as he strode forward.
Yuan Niang asked awkwardly again, “That Song Laoxiucai said you could compose poetry at eight years old – was that true?”
“Well… it wasn’t exactly false. After thoroughly studying the Three Hundred Tang Poems, even those who can’t compose can improvise. I secretly revised my poem for two months before daring to share it,” Su Shi admitted.
Yuan Niang planted her hands on her hips: Her teacher was absolutely brilliant!
She’d once heard a rumor that people in ancient times never drafted their writings, resulting in rather sloppy compositions. But Su Shi drafted his work! That’s why his writings were so polished and exquisite. Since Su Shi’s time, other scholars began drafting their compositions too. So her teacher had been this “scheming boy” since childhood!
Every inch of his reputation was well-earned.
Yuan Niang asked worriedly: “Teacher, what if people mock you for having a stupid disciple?”
“Easy,” Su Shi said with a mischievous wink. “If anyone mocks you again, send them to me. I’d like to see just how clever they really are.”
Yuan Niang burrowed deeper into his embrace, feeling reassured.
“And no more secretly hiding away to cry,” Su Shi added. “If you’re upset, your first thought should be to come find me.”
“Mm,” Yuan Niang nodded in agreement.
“If you cry again, I’ll write a poem about it,” Su Shi ‘threatened.’
“Don’t! I’ve already stopped crying!” Yuan Niang exclaimed in alarm! She certainly didn’t want to be immortalized in history for this – her hard-earned reputation would be ruined!