A New Work Appears

He held his wine glass, responding cautiously, seizing every opportunity to steer the conversation away from the topic, afraid of giving himself away.

Yan Wenbin, however, became interested. He picked up the wine pot, poured Shen Jingchuan a full cup himself, and then raised his own cup.

"Junior brother, I've long heard that you're quick-witted and can write so many timeless poems in the time it takes to drink a cup of wine."

His eyes were full of eagerness, "Today, your brother is toasting you. Could you show off your skills so that my son and I can have a good listen and witness your amazing talent?"

Upon hearing this, Shen Jingchuan felt a weight lifted from his heart.

What he fears most are those classical Chinese theories; if you really asked him to write one on the spot, that would be easy—there are plenty of ready-made ones.

He quickly picked up his glass and smiled in response.

"Since Senior Brother has spoken, I shall respectfully comply and make a fool of myself."

Shen Jingchuan, holding a wine glass, suddenly stood up, walked to the door, and lifted the curtain to look outside.

The sky outside was overcast, and the cold wind grew stronger in gusts. Fine snowflakes began to fall from the sky, scattered here and there, melting as soon as they touched the ground.

He looked up for a moment, then turned around and sat down, his gaze sweeping across the middle of the table.

It was a small charcoal stove with a pot on top. The mutton soup in the pot was bubbling and steaming, carrying the aroma of meat. There was also a pot of wine warming up next to it.

Looking at the snow, the wine, and the stove, Shen Jingchuan was suddenly moved. He reached out and tapped the edge of the table, then began to recite a poem.

"Newly brewed wine, green as ants; a small red clay stove, glowing with warmth."

"The evening sky threatens snow; shall we share a cup?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Yan Chongli paused for a moment, as if savoring the moment, then his eyes lit up, and he slammed his hand heavily on the table.

"Well!"

He leaned forward and said "good" twice, his face full of admiration.

"The entire piece contains not a single obscure character, nor a single flowery phrase, yet these twenty characters encapsulate everything: wine, stove, snow, and human relationships."

"It seems like everyday talk, yet it captures the warmth of a winter night's invitation for a drink so deeply it seeps into your very bones."

"Simple language conveys profound emotions; returning to simplicity and authenticity—this is the true skill of a master."

Yan Wenbin listened intently from the side, snapped his folding fan shut, and gently tapped the fan rib against his palm.

"Absolutely amazing!"

He shook his head, looking completely Qi Ingestion.

"Green wine, red stove, white snow—put these three colors together, and the scene immediately comes alive."

"The most ingenious part is the last sentence. It doesn't use 'please' or 'invite,' just a simple question, yet all that eagerness and warmth is contained in that one question."

"Well, I guess I'll never be able to write poetry again."

In a corner, a young maidservant silently recited the poem twice in her mind, and then, taking advantage of the moment when no one was looking, tiptoed out.

As soon as she stepped out the door, she lifted her skirt and ran quickly to the backyard, muttering to herself as she ran, afraid of forgetting a single word.

She burst into Yan Shuyao's boudoir, panting heavily.

"Miss, quick, get me a pen and write this down."

Yan Shuyao was bewildered by her words, but she still followed her instructions to lay out paper, grind ink, and pick up her brush.

"What's the rush? Take your time memorizing, I'll write it down."

The little maid recited it line by line, and Yan Shuyao wrote it stroke by stroke.

Before long, the little poem was written on the paper.

Yan Shuyao put down her pen, looked down at the twenty characters, and became lost in thought.

The entire text is written in the most ordinary and plain language, without a single obscure word. Yet, somehow, the warmth of sitting around a stove on a snowy day, warming wine to entertain guests, seeps out from between the lines and goes straight into people's hearts.

The more she looked at it, the more wonderful it seemed, and she couldn't help but nod slightly.

To be able to write about everyday things with such ease and simplicity, a poet truly has talent.

Who wrote this poem?

The young maid was patting her chest to catch her breath when she heard this. She looked up and answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Who else could it be but the son-in-law? He wrote it right there at the front table just now."

Yan Shuyao was taken aback at first, then nodded subconsciously.

"No wonder... truly a great talent."

She had barely finished speaking when she snapped back to reality, her face flushed, and she looked up.

"What... what did you just say? Who wrote this?"

"Young master," the maid blinked, "... the master's apprentice, and the young lady's... junior brother."

Yan Shuyao's face flushed red, and she reached out and gently patted her forehead.

"You little hussy, what nonsense are you spouting?" She was both embarrassed and anxious. "The matchmaker hasn't even come yet, the matter isn't settled at all, what nonsense about a son-in-law? You're just talking nonsense!"

The little maid covered her forehead, but wasn't afraid at all, and giggled.

"Miss, this matter is a done deal." She leaned closer. "I saw it all clearly just now. The master was so pleased that he was slapping the table, and the young master kept nodding in agreement."

"Your junior brother is so happy he's practically grinning from ear to ear, how could that be wrong?"

She tilted her head and winked at Yan Shuyao.

"Besides, Miss, do you really think I can't see through your little schemes?"

"Fine, you!" Yan Shuyao, annoyed and embarrassed by her exposure, reached out to pinch her cheek. "I see you're becoming more and more unruly. I'm going to teach you a lesson today."

"Oh, miss, please spare me! I'll never do it again!"

The little maid laughed and dodged away, Yan Shuyao wouldn't let it go. The two of them circled the table, laughing and joking around.

In the front hall, Shen Jingchuan checked the time, estimated it was about time, put down his chopsticks, stood up and bowed to Yan Chongli.

"Master, it's getting late, and I should take my leave."

Yan Chongli was taken aback.

"What's the rush? Didn't we agree before that you'd stay at the manor tonight?"

Shen Jingchuan smiled, looking a little embarrassed.

"It should be me troubling you, Master, but now that the marriage has been made public, it would be inconvenient for me to stay at your residence any longer, and I'm afraid it would cause gossip."

"I'll go find an inn outside and make do for the night. We'll talk again tomorrow."

Yan Chongli listened and agreed, nodding in agreement.

"Very well." He turned to Yan Wenbin. "Wenbin, you accompany your junior brother on this trip, find him a clean and safe inn, and come back after he's settled in."

Yan Wenbin readily agreed and got up to get his coat.

"Alright, I'll go with my junior brother."

Shen Jingchuan quickly waved his hand to decline.

"No, no, no." He cupped his hands in thanks to Yan Wenbin. "It's already night, there's no need for you to make another trip, senior brother. I'll just find an inn that can accommodate people."

"I can't stay in the Capital for more than two days, just one or two nights. I'll come back to your residence tomorrow, and we can discuss it further."

Yan Wenbin insisted on continuing, but Yan Chongli waved his hand dismissively.

"Alright, since Jingchuan has said so, don't force him."

"Then be careful on your way," Yan Chongli said, getting up to instruct. "Come back early tomorrow morning."

Shen Jingchuan bowed again, bid farewell to the father and son, turned and left, disappearing into the night.