I copied poetry to make a trade, not for vulgar showing off

"What are we going to do? The three of us have lost thirty taels of silver for tea. Even if we hire a maid from this courtyard to sleep with us, it'll still cost several taels for the three of us." Second Uncle Xu was frantic, feeling like he'd been thrown back to square one. His brow furrowed as he looked at his son.

"Cijiu, quickly think of a solution."

Is this about money? Is this about not being able to get any information out of them at all? The two brothers were internally fuming.

Xu Xinnian looked at his father. "What can I do? It was all just a matter of luck. My elder brother and I came, that's all. Doesn't Father have any self-awareness?"

His tone became somewhat harsh, indicating that he was also anxious.

This was a huge financial loss, but the real problem was that no information was found. Looking at Young Master Zhao being led away by a maid, Xu Qi'an suddenly remembered the title of the courtesan Fuxiang: a master of both music and poetry.

He immediately asked the maidservant who was serving the guests for a brush, ink, and Xuan paper.

Clearing a space on the desk, he grabbed Xu Xinnian and said, "Cijiu, you write it for me."

Xu Xinnian did not hesitate, and tacitly straightened his posture, holding the pen.

Xu Qi'an spoke rapidly, reciting. "All the flowers have faded, yet she alone remains radiant, captivating the small garden with her charm."

Xu Xinnian wields his brush with lightning speed, producing cursive script with a unique and elegant style.

Xu Qi'an continued reciting, "Sparse shadows slant across the clear, shallow water; a faint fragrance drifts in the twilight."

Xu Xinnian didn't pick up a pen. He was stunned, as if petrified, muttering the last two sentences to himself.

"Write it quickly!" Xu Qi'an shoved him.

Xu Erlang seemed to wake from a dream, and quickly finished writing with a straight face.

Xu Qi'an snatched the Xuan paper, beckoned to his maid, and said, "Give this poem to Lady Fuxiang, and then go and do as she says, tell her that I, Yang, am waiting here."

The maid was reluctant, but after Xu Qi'an stuffed a handful of loose silver into her hand, she immediately ran off.

In the master bedroom, a four-panel screen blocked the view of the bathtub, and wisps of steam lingered on the roof beams.

Fuxiang was soaking in hot water filled with rose petals. Her black hair was tied up high, her neck was fair and slender, and water droplets clung to her fragrant shoulders and chest, reflecting a captivating glow in the candlelight.

Her skin, smooth as jade, made her resemble a beautiful jade statue.

A personal maidservant was attending to Fuxiang by the bathtub, praising her beautiful skin as she said, "Young Master Zhao is already waiting in the tea room next door. The guests outside say he's a scholar from the Imperial Academy."

"What's so special about being a scholar?" Fuxiang smiled, gently splashing the water, and said, "But with Young Master Zhao's talent, passing the provincial examination is no problem at all."

The maid chuckled softly, "I knew my mistress liked talented young men like that. Take that annoying Zhou Li, for example. He just flaunts his power because of his father's official position."

"That young master Zhao is exceptionally talented. I hope you will treat him well, madam. Perhaps it will become a celebrated story, and the woman will be remembered in history."

"Even I'm making fun of you," Fuxiang poked the maid's head with her finger and sighed, "How difficult it is for a woman to achieve lasting fame. It's something many scholars can only dream of but never attain."

The door to the master bedroom was pushed open, and a maid entered, standing in the hall. She said in a clear voice, "Madam, the guest outside, surnamed Yang, has sent me with a poem."

Fuxiang frowned, and the head maid scolded, "You ill-mannered thing! Madam has already chosen Young Master Zhao; how can she change her mind? Did you receive a bribe from him?"

The young maidservant lowered her head, not daring to talk back.

Fuxiang Fuxiang calmly, "Put it on the table and tell the guest that I appreciate it."

The maidservant breathed a sigh of relief, put the Xuan paper on the table, and went out.

After bathing, Fuxiang put on a light gauze dress, her graceful figure partially revealed, and sat down at the table with her bare, snow-white feet.

"Go and invite Young Master Zhao in," she said, her gaze falling on the Xuan paper on the table, which she picked up casually.

Her gaze suddenly froze, fixed intently on the Xuan paper.

"A Gift of Fuxiang from the Shadow Plum Pavilion"

All the flowers have faded and fallen, yet it alone remains radiant, captivating the small garden with its charm.

Sparse shadows slant across the clear, shallow water; a faint fragrance drifts in the twilight.

The maidservant walked to the door, about to open it to invite Young Master Zhao, when she suddenly heard her mistress's shrill voice behind her. "Wait!"

Turning around, I saw my wife clutching the Xuan paper tightly in her hand, trembling slightly, her expression unusually strange.

That was an emotion the maid had never seen on her face before.

The courtesan's voice was urgent and shrill. "Who, who sent the poem? Which young master? Speak quickly!!"

The maid was startled and stammered, "It seems her surname is Yang."

The courtesan rushed towards the door without regard for anything else.

"My lady, my lady, how can you go out looking like this? You mustn't!" The maidservant clung to her tightly.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Fuxiang, her face flushed with anxiety. "Don't let that young master get away! Chase him back quickly!"

The maid couldn't understand it at all. It was just a poem, yet it had caused her mistress to lose her composure like never before, completely disregarding her usual knowledge, manners, and gentleness.

"My lady, please be patient. I will go immediately to invite that young master who wrote the poem."

After the maid left, the courtesan sat disheveled at the table, staring blankly at the papers in her hands.

"Sparse shadows slant across the clear, shallow water; a subtle fragrance drifts in the twilight, a Fuxiang, a Fuxiang."

Large tears rolled down her pretty face, and she buried her face in her arms on the table, sobbing softly.

In the lobby, some guests had left, while others remained.

After the tea party ends, the unsuccessful guests have two options: First, they can go to another courtyard to continue the next round. Second, if they are too tired to drink, they can choose one of the maids here to serve them in bed.

"This girl, Fuxiang, isn't buying it," Xu Pingzhi said, looking at his nephew with anxiety in his eyes.

The poem was sent, but all I received in return was a dismissive comment.

Clearly, Xu Qi'an's poem failed to impress the courtesan.

Xu Xinnian scoffed, "How could a mere woman understand the essence of poetry?"

Xu Pingzhi stared at his son and asked, "Was Ningyan's poem just now excellent?"

The proud and arrogant Xu Erlang was completely convinced of his elder brother's talent in poetry, and exclaimed, "Excellent, excellent!"

Xu Dalang was equally puzzled, though he had absolute confidence in the poem.

This seven-character quatrain is very famous, extremely famous. Especially the last two lines, which are hailed as the pinnacle of plum blossom poetry.

Under the lonely frost of that time, two lines of poetry became famous for all time—this refers to these two lines of poetry.

Two lines of poetry have made him famous for all time—what high praise!

"Hidden Fragrance" and "Sparse Shadows" even became titles for ci poems, demonstrating the poem's high status among ancient literati.

Famous figures such as Ouyang Xiu and Sima Guang have given these two lines of poetry high marks.

And the author of this seven-character quatrain has thus achieved Xu Qi'an fame because of this poem. Hmm, I've forgotten who the author is.

That's impossible. There's no reason for her to refuse my poem. If I were to give it to the two great scholars of the Cloud Deer Academy, they would raise me like their own son. Xu Qi'an thought of a possibility: this courtesan, who was known for her mastery of both poetry and music, was actually just a pretty face.

He's just trying to gain fame and create a persona; he's essentially a person with little education.

But there's a paradox here: if the Fuxiang Flower Queen is just a pretty face selling a persona, she could never be recognized by scholars.

Compared to the hype and persona-building tactics of celebrities in the past, the courtesans of this era also employ similar methods, but the latter possess genuine talent.

The reason is simple: scholars in ancient times were not as easily fooled as young people in later generations.

With a furrowed brow, the head maid who served Fuxiang hurried over with small, quick steps. Her eyes searched the crowd with slight anxiety, but when she saw Xu Qi'an, her expression relaxed. She gracefully approached, curtsied, and said in a sweet, coquettish voice:

"Young Master Yang, did you write the poem?"

The Xu Household looked at each other, relieved.

"It's me." Xu Qi'an nodded.

The maid smiled, becoming even more respectful, her eyes lowered, and said softly, "My mistress invites you in."

Xu Qi'an nodded calmly and followed the maid toward the master bedroom on the other side of the pavilion.

This scene also caught the attention of the guests who planned to stay overnight at "Yingmei Pavilion," and they began to whisper among themselves.

"Huh, why did he go in too?"

"This... this isn't the right thing to do. How can two people go in?"

"That maid seemed to be talking about poetry, and I just happened to see her writing something with that handsome young man."

A middle-aged man dressed like a wealthy man approached Xu Xinnian and Xu Pingzhi, cupped his hands in greeting, and said, "Gentlemen, may I ask what Miss Fuxiang's intentions are? How did that gentleman go in just now? What poems did you write?"

PS: Guys, my face is itching! I need some recommendation votes to slap myself hard! (￣￣)