Chapter 101: Upon the Three-Life Stone (Conclusion)

Poetry, like the wind, spreads swiftly without legs.

By the Yi River, amid red candles and ocarinas, on the Three Lives Stone, melodies drift and sway, filling all of Luoyang.

Coinciding with the provincial imperial examination, Li Ruochu had extensively opened backdoors with remarkable results. This time, over forty thousand candidates took the exam, setting a historic record. Scholars thronged the streets like schools of fish crossing a river, their pedantic recitations echoing in every alley. Playful residents of Luoyang joked that there was no longer any need for rice vinegar with their dumplings.

The scholars were the most carefree. The examination was naturally crucial for their futures, yet they did not neglect to savor the romantic sights and sounds of the Eastern Capital. Even those who failed considered the arduous journey worthwhile. With new tunes and instruments emerging, how could they miss out? They gathered friends and flocked together, turning the Yi River pleasure boat into a sanctuary of romance.

Yet, at the very height of its bustling popularity, the Yi River pleasure boat did the opposite of what was expected. Each night, it admitted only six groups of guests, each group limited to twenty people and a half-hour session. All other song and dance performances were suspended, leaving only the ocarina playing the Three Lives Stone in its classic, unaltered form—exactly as the imperial censors had witnessed. Prices remained fixed, with no bargaining tolerated. Once, a Sogdian merchant threw down a fortune, offering ten thousand strings of silk for exclusive use of the boat for a night, only to be sternly refused.

They did not raise prices, yet gratitude was scarce. A thick resentment simmered throughout the Eastern Capital. Hot-tempered individuals hurled knives and dead chickens at the pleasure boat, causing three daily disturbances. In response, the boat declared its intention to teach the ocarina rendition of the Three Lives Stone during daylight hours, to satisfy the heartfelt hopes of the city’s elders.

The news set the entire Yongfeng neighborhood ablaze. By day, the boat’s front was lined with songstresses eager to learn; by night, scholars and poets queued up to attend. The winding lines stretched almost across Luoyang itself.

Teaching was free, and no price gouging occurred. The boat was famed for its benevolence and righteousness. Even competitors in Yongfeng and along the Yi River grudgingly admitted they could find no fault. In contrast, merchants selling ocarinas and red candles were truly detestable, raising prices daily to maddening heights. Much of the profits from this craze went to these unscrupulous traders. The brothel owners, upon stepping out of their shops, would grind their teeth in despair.

Ten days later, Luoyang was awash with gossip of a stern official’s tragic pursuit of a noblewoman, sparking a surge in visitors that tripled the city’s usual crowds. Streets and alleys were packed shoulder to shoulder.

Qian Ce drifted with the crowds, his mood sour. Despite the turmoil, the Zhao County Li family remained silent. Hou Sizhi sent a probing letter, but unlike previous occasions where he’d receive a polite yet sharp rebuke, this time it vanished without a trace—no word, no reply.

“Deputy Director, please rest assured. These common folk are ignorant and petty in their grievances. When the time is right, I will submit a memorial that will make them regret their insolence,” said Fu Youyi, a censor who had recently attached himself closely to Qian Ce, following him step by step.

Qian Ce frowned and perked up his ears.

“Damn it, those candle sellers must have died poor in their past lives.”

“Damn it, those ocarina sellers are truly disgraceful gentlemen. To profit from such refined instruments is utterly unfilial.”

“Not so, not so. If you think it's expensive, don’t buy it. But insulting folks shows a lack of upbringing. If you can’t afford the ocarinas, the porcelain beside them is exquisite and charming. Buy a few, and you’ll surely please the old man.”

…

The crowd chattered noisily, hurling invectives left and right. Qian Ce paid no mind but worried inwardly, noting that every one of these people wore scholar’s caps and robes. Small signs revealed larger truths: the sheer number of candidates this year was high, but their quality was questionable. How Li Ruochu would wrap this up remained to be seen.

Glancing at Fu Youyi, who had even inquired about his own business, Qian Ce walked on, his thoughts racing to find the right moment to stoke the flames further.

After an indeterminate time, dusk settled low across the sky. Qian Ce stopped, scanning his surroundings. Looking up, he saw a familiar face—Ge Hui, a scholar from Luoyang, standing on the second floor with peers, leaning on the railing, passionately discussing literature.

Ge Hui noticed Qian Ce in plain clothes, accompanied by a stranger, and merely smiled and nodded without calling out.

Qian Ce’s heart lifted. He hurried upstairs and called out, “Brother Ge, long time no see.”

Ge Hui looked surprised but stepped forward. “Do you have leisure, sir? Care to join our stroll?” Seeing Qian Ce nod, he introduced, “This is Deputy Director Qian Ce. These are my fellow candidates.”

Upon hearing Qian Ce’s title, the candidates gathered, bowing respectfully. The bustling scholars below halted upon hearing, gazing upward. The entire street seemed muted, frozen in time.

“Deputy Director Qian, I have long admired your reputation. You possess vast talents yet remain sparing with your words. Since your ‘Immortal by the Riverside,’ no complete work has appeared. Even after ‘Helpless Flowers Fall,’ you have not revealed a single phrase. We await eagerly, like parched earth longing for rain.” A young scholar stepped forward, his voice like hammered metal. “Today, by chance, we meet here. Please grace us with your calligraphy to soothe our souls.”

“Indeed, indeed. We hear the Three Lives Stone debuted at your seat. Why not sing its praises?”

The crowd voiced their assent.

Qian Ce smiled faintly, waving grandly. “I am honored by your kindness, but many splendid poems about the Three Lives Stone already exist. I dare not add my hand. Yet, the author—Inspector Hou—is worthy of praise in his own right. What say you?”

“Indeed. They say those with broken hearts harbor special passions. I have long admired the devoted Inspector Hou, regretting we have not yet met,” the young scholar replied clearly.

Qian Ce nodded slightly, appreciating the perfect setup. He shifted his stance, leaning on the railing, head tilted skyward, sleeves wide and loose behind him, embodying the scholar’s spirit. With a gentle motion, the effect was profound—like ebony striking a ceremonial bell. The entire hall and street fell silent, eyes fixed, breath held.

“Leaning on the perilous tower, the wind gently blows; gazing far into the spring sorrow, dimming at the edge of the sky…” Qian Ce enunciated slowly, each word deliberate, reciting the poem with measured grace.

Among the scholars below were some who had taken shortcuts to the exam. They nodded and murmured, “This Qian fellow is impressive, reciting such complex verses in one breath.”

“Exactly,” agreed a companion. “Look at him—writing a new poem is like us reciting an old one. Not much difference.”

“Hush!” Sharp glances cut through their circle like swords. They trembled in unison. “This is a matter of great literary importance. Do not desecrate it.”

Nearby, others listened quietly, silently memorizing; some, believing a good memory is no match for a poor pen, knelt to copy down the verses with utmost devotion.

“…Though my belt grows loose, I do not regret; for her, I have become emaciated.”

Long after the poem ended, silence lingered. The young scholar was the first to recover. “I have heard an elder inspector once said that anyone who listens to the Three Lives Stone without tears is a beast. Today, hearing these verses, who could remain unmoved? Is anyone’s heart not made of iron and stone?”

“Such deep love is hard to repay, and the human heart is indeed desolate. Inspector Hou is truly a rare man in this world.”