“Brother, does Master Jin have other great works?”
Zhou, pulling Tiechui aside, asked eagerly.
“I told you, the master’s written too many poems. I’m just a rough man, can’t remember that much.”
Seeing the young masters were already awed and his goal of defending Jin Feng’s name achieved, Tiechui lost interest in talking.
“Even if you can’t recall a whole poem, a line or two would do.”
Zhou quickly signalled a servant to pour Tiechui another bowl of wine.
“Don’t remember, don’t remember.”
Tiechui pushed the bowl away, hugged his sword, and stood guard at the path, ignoring the young masters.
In the pavilion, Jin Feng and Tang Xiaobei talked until evening.
After hearing Jin Feng’s plan, Tang Xiaobei’s worries vanished. She smiled and said, “Sir, there’s a performance at Chunfeng Tower tonight. All the top girls will appear. If you’d like to watch, I can arrange two seats.”
“No need. My wife and your sister are waiting for me at home.”
Jin Feng stood, saying, “Think over the plan for anything to add. Tell me next time I come.”
“Alright,” Tang Xiaobei nodded. “I’ll see you out, sir.”
But as they left the pavilion, the young masters surrounded them.
“Master Jin, we’ve long admired you!”
“Master Jin, your *Silkworm Woman* is brilliant!”
“No, I think the second *Min Nong* is best. ‘No idle fields in the four seas, yet farmers still starve.’ Ten words, bursting with endless power!”
“I say *Jiang Jin Jiu* is the best, bold and grand!”
“Master Jin, do you have other masterpieces?”
The young masters swarmed Jin Feng, chattering excitedly.
“*Silkworm Woman*? *Jiang Jin Jiu*? ‘Farmers still starve’?”
Jin Feng’s heart tightened.
He’d only recited these poems in a few places, especially *Jiang Jin Jiu*, shared for the first time in Dakang yesterday. How did they know?
Was someone else at the inn yesterday?
Did they hear *The Internationale* too?
For a moment, Jin Feng’s mind raced.
Signalling Tiechui to hold back the crowd, he hurried Tang Xiaobei away.
“Tiechui, were there outsiders at the inn when we drank yesterday?”
Outside Chunfeng Tower’s gate, Jin Feng pulled Tiechui into a deserted alley.
“Don’t worry, sir. I had brothers on guard. After the waiter brought the food, no outsiders came near our courtyard.”
Tiechui said confidently.
Yesterday’s drinking was staggered, with four veteran soldiers staying sober.
“Then how do they know *Jiang Jin Jiu*?”
Jin Feng asked, puzzled.
“Uh…”
Tiechui scratched his head. “I heard them say your poem was petty, so I couldn’t hold back and used *Jiang Jin Jiu* to argue…”
“And *Silkworm Woman* and *Min Nong*?”
“They seemed to look down on you, so I recited two more to shut them up,” Tiechui said. “Sir, you should’ve seen their faces. They were stunned!”
“I’m about stunned myself!” Jin Feng kicked Tiechui irritably. “Trouble comes from the mouth. Talk less outside, got it?”
Though not fond of or skilled at scheming, he knew how treacherous people could be.
In his past life as a tech nerd, staying in the simple Xihuwan had dulled his caution.
This Guangyuan trip reminded him this world wasn’t a utopia, full of dangers.
His words were a warning to both Tiechui and himself.
No more drinking, and he’d adjust his mindset to avoid careless talk.
“Sir, I heard them badmouth you and couldn’t hold back…”
Sensing Jin Feng’s mood, Tiechui asked cautiously, “Did I mess up, sir?”
“You know you did,” Jin Feng glanced at him. “Half a month’s pay docked to teach you a lesson.”
“Got it,” Tiechui nodded, face bitter.
At Chunfeng Tower, after Jin Feng left, the young masters didn’t linger for fun. They gathered in small groups, discussing his poems, and soon even the madam heard.
“What? That nursery rhyme kids were singing everywhere was written by this afternoon’s Jin Feng?”
“Absolutely true. The young masters downstairs are all talking about it,” the maid replied.
“Didn’t Jin Feng write a poem for Xiaobei? Read it to me.”
The madam said eagerly.
Chunfeng Tower’s guests were mostly merchants and self-important scholars, many writing poems for the girls daily.
In the afternoon, the maid mentioned Jin Feng’s poem for Tang Xiaobei, but the madam, focused on stopping their private meeting, hadn’t asked what it was.
“These are all Master Jin’s poems. The one for Miss Xiaobei is this one.”
The madam’s sharp-witted maid produced copies of the poems, pointing to *Sheng Cha Zi*.
“Distant mountains, her brows extend long, slender willow waist sways soft. After dressing, she stands in the spring breeze, one smile worth more than a thousand gold…”
Reading the poem, the madam’s eyes lit up.
She set the paper down, slapped the table, and laughed, “This poem is fantastic!”
In the entertainment-scarce feudal era, qinglous and inns were hubs for news.
When *Min Nong* reached Guangyuan, it spread fast. The madam had wished its author would write for Chunfeng Tower’s girls.
Now, her dream came true so soon.
“But the young masters downstairs say the other poems are better. They think this one’s too flowery, not grand enough,” the maid said, having gathered their opinions too.
“They’re not your mother, of course they think the others are better,” the madam said, laughing. “This poem was written for our Xiaobei. It’s supposed to be flowery. With Master Jin’s fame, this poem boosts Xiaobei’s chances at the flower queen contest!”
She picked up the paper again, read the other poems, and soon laughed smugly, “These are even more brilliant. Perfect!”
“Mother, I’m confused. You’re happier that Master Jin’s poem for Sister Xiaobei isn’t as good?” the maid asked, frowning.
“When minting coins, a flawed one is the most valuable,” the madam explained, in high spirits. “Master Jin’s other poems are exceptional, but this one’s average. When people talk about him, they’ll mention this poem, and Xiaobei too.
So, its lack of brilliance is the best thing for Xiaobei!”
