The ministers took their seats amid the ringing of bells, chimes, zithers, and flutes. The emperor looked around at the faces above their court robes-some respectful, some fearful, some familiar, some strange. Yet every one wore jade belts and purple silk, and every mouth poured forth splendid phrases. For eighteen years, it had all been exactly the same, never changing. Only he had grown old.
No, I am not old yet. Just give me a little time. Ji Zizong, whether your sincerity is genuine or feigned, you must not disappoint me.
Once the ministers were seated before the lavish spread, a single glance from the emperor prompted the master of ceremonies to call, "Stop the music!"
The emperor swept his gaze around and smiled. "Whenever I have studied the histories and the chapters of the Book of Documents and the Book of Songs, I have always admired how the rulers and ministers of antiquity shared one virtue and one heart, delighting in one another so profoundly."
"Now peace reigns within the seas, and fine wine fills our rhinoceros-horn cups. Surely this gathering is not merely for feasting and merriment. Have any of you composed a poem?"
Among the dignified, imposing ministers, a man hesitated before rising first. He was a third-rank official whom Su Ziji did not know well-apparently Yue Wenjing. Drawing a deep breath, he declaimed in a resonant voice:
"Bright sun and gentle winds embrace all lands; radiant clouds spread over the purple palace gates. Within one hall, glad songs praise wise sovereign and worthy ministers; weapons laid aside, benevolent rule brings people and all things prosperity."
Poems recited before the emperor were, by nature, paeans to his achievements and virtue. Reaching this standard was already quite impressive, and no fool would try anything unconventional. Praise immediately rose