“The trees by my inkstone-washing pond,
Each blossom opens with a faint ink mark.
I care not for praise of its colour,
Only to leave pure fragrance filling the universe.”
Chen Ji opened the soap lid, read the lines slowly, then trembled with excitement.
He praised, “Excellent poem! Excellent poem! In just one line, ‘I care not for praise of its colour, only to leave pure fragrance filling the universe,’ it captures the plum’s divine clarity, elegant bones, quiet detachment, and noble dignity to the core.”
“I hear Baron Qingshui is kind-hearted. After earning money from soap, instead of indulging in luxury, he risked offending local gentry to lead Tielin Army veterans in wiping out bandits across Jinchuan, a thankless task.”
“This poem must be Baron Qingshui using the plum to reflect his own character. He seeks no gaudy colours to flatter others or win praise, only to spread his pure fragrance across the world.”
“Speaking of this, I rather envy Baron Qingshui. He can do as he pleases, while I am chained to this court, facing mountains of memorials every day!”
The Zhou family, to strike at the Qing family and Jin Feng, had repeatedly raised Jin Feng’s bandit suppression in Jinchuan at court, accusing him and Qing Huai of winning hearts with intent to rebel.
Though Chen Ji had shown no stance, he harboured some unease.
But after reading this poem, his doubts vanished, and his regard for Jin Feng rose several levels.
“Your Majesty has sacrificed too much for the realm’s people, how arduous!”
Consort Qing flatteringly soothed.
“Only my beloved understands me,” Chen Ji patted her hand, his address softened, “Did Baron Qingshui write only these two? Are there more?”
“Yes, your subject will fetch them all for Your Majesty.”
Consort Qing called no maids, lifted her skirt, and trotted to bring a tray of soaps, some used, some still sealed.
Chen Ji, like opening blind boxes, rubbed his hands in excitement, picked one, twisted the mechanism, and lifted the lid with anticipation.
“Several plum branches at the wall’s corner,
Bloom alone in the bitter cold.
I know it is not snow,
For dark fragrance comes! Excellent poem! Excellent poem!”
He exclaimed twice, then took another.
“In ice and snow this form resides,
Unlike peach and plum mixed in worldly dust.
Suddenly one night pure fragrance bursts,
Spreading spring across the universe for ten thousand li.
Excellent!”
…
“Plum without snow lacks spirit,
Snow without poem vulgarises man.
At dusk the poem is done, then snow falls,
With plum making full spring tenfold.
Excellent!”
“Hm, this is a regulated verse.
All flowers fall, yet this alone glows warm,
Claiming all charm in the small garden.
Frost birds steal glances before descending,
Powder butterflies, knowing, would break their souls.
Fortunate to have soft chants for companionship,
No need for sandalwood clappers or golden cups.”
Chen Ji paced excitedly, “‘Sparse shadows slant across clear shallow water, dark fragrance floats in yellow dusk!’ Superbly written!”
By now, Chen Ji was nearly lost for words, only repeating how well written they were.
“Ah, another lyric.
Beyond the post station, by the broken bridge,
Lonely blooms with no master.
Already dusk, alone in sorrow,
Then wind and rain add more.
No intent to bitterly contest spring,
Let all flowers envy.
Fallen to mud, ground to dust,
Only fragrance remains as before.”
Reading this lyric, Chen Ji slammed the table and stood, “Baron Qingshui absolutely uses the plum as self-metaphor. ‘No intent to bitterly contest spring, let all flowers envy. Fallen to mud, ground to dust, only fragrance remains as before.'”
“How well written!”
“No matter what others say, he pays no heed, acts only by his heart, even if crushed to dust, he never regrets!”
After reading over a dozen plum poems and lyrics, Chen Ji’s admiration for Jin Feng reached its peak.
In his mind, Jin Feng was a recluse of plum-like noble character, kind-hearted, unable to bear people’s suffering, yet uninterested in power struggles.
How could such a man rebel?
If he craved power, why return to a remote mountain village instead of staying in Weizhou?
“Beloved, are there more?”
Chen Ji saw he had opened every box and looked up at Consort Qing.
“Your Majesty, no more plum ones…”
Consort Qing replied helplessly.
The Duke had sent dozens of boxes, besides over ten plum-scented, two each of other fragrances.
“No more plum ones?” Chen Ji pressed, “What about the others?”
“There are some others, your subject will fetch them.”
“Quick, quick!” Chen Ji urged.
Consort Qing dared not delay, lifted her skirt again, and with maids brought all other fragrances.
The table overflowed with opened boxes.
Chen Ji had maids place trays on the floor, sat cross-legged, and opened them himself, refusing help.
“Green leaves layer branches with osmanthus alike,
Blooms soft, timid in wind.
Year-round fills the courtyard with heavenly scent,
No need to wait for mid-autumn clarity.
This box is osmanthus-scented!”
“Orchid leaves line mountain paths,
Outside city, pear and peach orchards.
Who knows human affairs are quiet,
Unaware birds cry loud.
This box is orchid-scented!”
“Orchids already in rows,
Mountain flavour lingers long.
Firm and true, still embraces self,
Why compete with the crowd?
This box is also orchid.”
“Small child props small boat,
Steals white lotus and returns.
Knows not to hide tracks,
Floating duckweed opens a path.
What is this box? Ah, lotus-scented!”
…
By now, Chen Ji no longer commented on the poems, not just from lack of words, but because nearly every one amazed him.
In his view, Jin Feng’s poetic skill far surpassed his own, making commentary unfit.
Like a high-schooler critiquing a doctoral thesis.
Chen Ji fully enjoyed the blind-box thrill, each new box yielding a fresh poem.
He opened until dusk fell, finishing all boxes.
“Beloved, any more?”
Chen Ji looked expectantly at Consort Qing.
“Your Majesty, none left.”
Recalling Qing Mulan’s instructions, Consort Qing added, “Mulan said Baron Qingshui plans a shop in the capital to sell soap, preparing now. Once open, your subject will send to buy more.”
“What preparations for a shop?” Chen Ji said carelessly, “Baron Qingshui and Qing Huai are close as brothers, if he lacks anything, just go to the Duke.”
He had thought to request another tribute batch, but recalling Jin Feng’s poetic attitude, dismissed the idea.
“Mulan wrote that Baron Qingshui lacks nothing, just…”
“Just what?”
“Baron Qingshui knows he offended the Zhou family, worries they will trouble his capital shop.”
Consort Qing replied.
Though no great emperor, Chen Ji had honed court sensitivity over years on the throne.
The moment she spoke, he sensed she pushed Qing family suppression of Zhou.
Instinctively he wanted to rebuke, but thinking of Jin Feng’s poems, he waved, “Reply to the Qing girl. Let Baron Qingshui open with ease. The capital is under the Son of Heaven, the realm’s most lawful place.”
“If the Zhou family troubles him over this, have him come straight to me.”
