Clouds Recall Her Robes, Flowers Her Face

Chen Fan turned and left. On his way to the stables to prepare the carriage, he was on high alert.

His senses were heightened to the utmost as he watched every corner, every shadow, and every person who brushed past him.

The feeling of being watched followed him like a shadow.

The carriage was soon ready. It had an ordinary exterior and a blue canopy, but its interior was spacious and comfortable.

With the help of two maids, Li Rong'er climbed into the carriage.

Chen Fan served as the driver. He sat on the carriage shaft and flicked the reins, and the carriage slowly rolled out of the side gate of the Prince of Xiushan's Residence.

The wheels rumbled over the flagstones.

The capital of Xiushan Province was a major northern city of the Great Shang Imperial Dynasty. Its streets were broad and lined with shops, people came and went, and the cries of hawkers and vendors never ceased. It was a scene of bustling prosperity.

For Li Rong'er, the long-absent bustle of everyday life made her feel as though she had returned from another lifetime.

She lifted a corner of the carriage curtain and watched the scenery flash past outside, a complicated expression on her face.

To Chen Fan, however, the bustling streets meant danger everywhere.

The more crowded and noisy it was, the easier it was for an assassin to hide and strike.

His hand on the reins appeared relaxed, but his muscles were taut.

He was not admiring the scenery. His gaze swept rapidly over the rooftops and alley entrances on both sides of the street, the second-floor windows of teahouses-anywhere an assassin might hide.

"Let's just look around."

Li Rong'er's somewhat weary instructions came from inside the carriage.

"Yes."

Chen Fan answered and drove the carriage into the crowded stream of people.

He had no destination and simply followed the main street where the crowds were thickest. If that assassin really intended to strike, he would have a few more misgivings in a busy marketplace.

After the carriage had traveled for about the time it took an incense stick to burn, Li Rong'er suddenly spoke.

"Stop for a moment."

Chen Fan pulled the reins and brought the carriage to a steady halt by the roadside.

He followed Li Rong'er's gaze to a shop called the Treasure Pavilion. It had three stories with upturned eaves, an imposing storefront, and elegant decor. One look was enough to tell that ordinary people could not afford to shop there.

"Let's go in and have a look."

Li Rong'er got out of the carriage and walked straight inside.

Chen Fan and the two maids hurried after her.

As soon as they entered, a neatly dressed attendant came to greet them. The pavilion was filled with a dazzling array of exquisite gold, silver, and jade articles, jeweled hairpins and ornaments, all shimmering with color.

Li Rong'er seemed a little more interested. She looked around as she walked, but only looked, showing no intention of stopping.

It was not until she reached the fine goods section on the second floor that she came to a halt.

Her gaze was drawn to a phoenix hairpin lying quietly on a rosewood tray.

The hairpin was carved entirely from warm jade. The phoenix was lifelike, and tiny red gemstones set into its tail glittered with color. It was exquisitely beautiful.

"I want this phoenix hairpin," Li Rong'er said.

The attendant looked troubled and bowed. "Madam, I'm terribly sorry. This Phoenix Seeks the Phoenix is our pavilion master's proudest creation. It isn't for sale."

Li Rong'er's brows knitted.

As a princess consort, when had she ever wanted something she could not have?

"Name a price," she said calmly, with an air of authority.

Just then, a middle-aged man in a scholar's robe, sporting a goatee, emerged from the inner hall. He was the master of the Treasure Pavilion.

He first glanced at Li Rong'er. Though she was dressed simply and elegantly, her innate air of nobility kept him from treating her lightly.

"Please forgive me, madam." The pavilion master cupped his hands and explained, neither humble nor arrogant, "This hairpin truly isn't for sale."

"However..." He changed tack and pointed at the phoenix hairpin, a hint of pride appearing on his face. "Though this hairpin isn't for sale, it may be given to someone fated to receive it. This old man has set a test: if someone can compose a poem about this hairpin that meets my approval, I shall give them the Phoenix Seeks the Phoenix on the spot."

His words immediately drew the attention of every customer in the pavilion.

Quite a few young men from wealthy families and scholars who fancied themselves talented gathered around, eager to try.

"I'll do it!"

A young gentleman in fine robes stepped forward first, waving a fan.

He stared at the phoenix hairpin and bobbed his head for a long while before reciting, "Fine jade carved into a phoenix in flight, red jewels adorning it with divine might. Should a beauty wear this pin in her hair, the whole city's splendor could never compare."

A smattering of applause and praise sounded from the crowd as soon as he finished.

The pavilion master merely shook his head, a polite smile on his face. "You have talent, young master. Unfortunately, your poem stays on the surface and lacks spirit."

The young gentleman's face turned the color of pig liver, and he retreated in chagrin.

Several more scholars stepped forward to try. Some of their verses were ornate, others had ordinary imagery, but without exception, the pavilion master rejected them one by one with a smile.

The pavilion master's standards were clearly very high.

More and more people gathered to watch, and they all chattered among themselves, feeling that the pavilion master was making things difficult on purpose.

"It's just a hairpin, yet you need a first-rate poem to get it. Aren't you asking a bit too much, boss?"

"Yes, enough is enough."

The crowd spoke up, displeased with the owner's manner.

Li Rong'er looked at the phoenix hairpin, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She was just about to turn and leave.

"I'll give it a try."

A level voice suddenly sounded from beside her.

Everyone turned toward the voice.

A tall young man of ordinary appearance stepped forward, dressed in the uniform of a guard from the prince's residence.

It was Chen Fan.

In an instant, the entire Treasure Pavilion fell silent.

Every face was filled with astonishment at the absurdity of it.

A guard? A mere martial brute?

He wanted to compose a poem too?

The scholars who had been rejected let out undisguised snickers.

"What an enormous joke! A servant who guards a house and its courtyard knows poetry?"

"Maybe he's just joining the fun to make his mistress smile?"

"A vulgar martial brute who can't tell one character from another, making a laughingstock of himself before those who know better!"

Li Rong'er was stunned too. She looked at Chen Fan in disbelief.

What was he trying to do?

Make a fool of himself in public?

The pavilion master was also taken aback, but he maintained his composure and gestured for Chen Fan to proceed. "Please, young man."

Chen Fan ignored the mockery around him and did not look at Li Rong'er.

He simply gazed quietly at the phoenix hairpin, then wondered which poem from his previous life he should use to show off.

Although he had not studied the humanities in his previous life, he had been quite interested in poetry and had memorized quite a few poems.

After some thought, this one seemed more suitable.

So he slowly began, "Clouds recall her robes, and flowers recall her face,"

His voice was not loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

The pavilion fell silent in an instant.

The smiles on the faces of the scholars who had been snickering froze.

Just seven characters, yet they seemed to hold an invisible power that captured everyone's attention.

Clouds recall her robes... flowers recall her face...

What magnificent imagination! What a marvelous comparison!

The pavilion master's expression, which had still held a trace of disdain, froze instantly, replaced by utter shock.

Chen Fan did not pause and continued with the next line.

"Spring breezes caress the railing, and the dew shines rich with grace."

Boom!

If the first line had been a thunderclap from level ground, then the second was enough to split stone and shock the heavens!

The entire Treasure Pavilion was deathly silent.

Those two lines of poetry left everyone's minds blank with shock.

It was as though they saw a peerless beauty, clad in robes woven from rosy clouds, her face more enchanting than a peony in full bloom. As the spring breeze swept past, the dewdrops on the railing added to the rich splendor.

Beautiful!

Beautiful beyond compare!

"Good... good poetry! What fine poetry!"

No one knew how much time had passed before the master of the Treasure Pavilion slapped his thigh. He trembled all over with excitement, and even his goatee stood on end.

He rushed to Chen Fan in two quick strides, his old face flushed bright red with excitement.

"Clouds recall her robes, and flowers recall her face; spring breezes caress the railing, and the dew shines rich with grace... Brilliant! Truly brilliant!"

The scholars who had been laughing at him earlier were now ashen-faced, so ashamed they wished they could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.

Compared with those two lines, what they had composed just now was nothing but dogshit doggerel!

Li Rong'er stared fixedly at Chen Fan's back, her eyes holding an unprecedentedly complicated mixture of shock, astonishment, and curiosity.

Was this... really her guard Lin Shou?

How could a vulgar martial brute possibly compose such dazzlingly brilliant lines?

"The rest! Where's the rest of the poem?" The pavilion master grabbed Chen Fan's arm and pressed him urgently, like a man dying of thirst who had spotted a clear spring. "Young man! No, young master! Quick! Recite the rest of the poem!"

Everyone around them held their breath and craned their necks, their faces full of anticipation.

They could hardly wait to learn what earth-shattering verses would follow such an exquisitely beautiful opening.

Chen Fan merely turned to the pavilion master with a faint smile.

Instead of answering, he asked, "Are these two lines enough to win the phoenix hairpin?"

The owner's face was full of conflict. He was desperate to hear the rest of the poem.

But he could not bring himself to say against his conscience that these two lines were not enough.

In the end, he sighed. "They are. Young master, the phoenix hairpin is yours."