Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 1009: Startling the Serpent by Beating the Grass

Song Qingshu had an idea in his heart and chuckled lightly, “What does this person have to do with me? Just hearing his surname is Wu reminds me of that King Pingxi who rebelled at Shanhaiguan. It truly gives both our countries a headache.”

Upon mentioning this matter, Suo Etu also wore a troubled expression, “Isn’t that right? To quell the rebellion of the Three Feudatories, we spent countless resources and mobilized hundreds of thousands of troops. We had no choice but to cease hostilities with the Golden Serpent Camp, and even let Li Kexiu… cough cough~” Realizing he had misspoken, he quickly laughed it off and moved on.

The officials from Yangzhou dared not pick up on this topic, all of them pretending to be absorbed in their own thoughts. Wu Zhirong hurriedly distanced himself, “Gentlemen, please understand, although I share the surname Wu, I have no relation to that rebel Wu Sangui whatsoever.”

Song Qingshu said with a half-smile, “Is that so? But I heard that Wu Sangui is from Gaoyou in Yangzhou, and you, Governor Wu, are from the same hometown, aren’t you?”

“No, no, absolutely not,” Wu Zhirong shook his head vigorously like a rattle drum. “Although I serve as the governor in Yangzhou, I am not a local. The Ministry of Personnel has records of this.”

“It seems I have wronged you, Governor,” Song Qingshu said noncommittally as he sipped his tea, allowing Wu Zhirong to continue kneeling there.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Wu Zhirong said, cold sweat dripping down his back, unsure of how he had offended this person from the Jin Dynasty, who seemed to be targeting him at every turn.

Suo Etu stepped in to ease the tension, “Since it’s a misunderstanding, Governor Wu, please rise. We are still looking forward to the program you have prepared for us today.”

“Yes, yes, yes, please this way, gentlemen.” Wu Zhirong scrambled to his feet, bowing and leading the way.

The group arrived at Chanzhi Temple in a grand procession. As soon as they got out of the sedan chairs, they were greeted by a vast expanse of brilliant peony flowers. The sunlight shone on thousands of peony plants, dazzling and magnificent, truly resembling a tapestry.

“Indeed, it deserves to be one of Yangzhou’s scenic spots,” Suo Etu couldn’t help but exclaim.

Wu Zhirong felt a sense of pride swelling in his heart; his previously anxious mind finally calmed down a bit. He was always good at managing affairs, and several days prior, he had set up a flower pavilion by the peony garden, constructed by skilled craftsmen using unpeeled pine trees. The branches and leaves remained as they were, and the pavilion was furnished with natural stone tables and chairs, filled with flowers and grasses. Water was channeled through bamboo joints, flowing around the pavilion with a gentle sound, showcasing exquisite ingenuity. Dining there felt like being in the mountains and fields, a different charm compared to the opulent halls of wealthy families adorned with carved beams and jade.

In his mind, these two high-ranking officials had seen all sorts of lavish things and must have grown tired of them. Surely, his unique setup would win their favor.

Little did he know, Song Qingshu had long found him displeasing and was intentionally making things difficult for him. Upon arriving at the flower pavilion, the first thing he asked was, “Why is there a cool pavilion here? Ah, I see, it must be set up by the monks of the temple for a ritual, to offer food to the hungry ghosts during the burning of offerings.”

All of Wu Zhirong’s efforts went to waste, and he couldn’t help but feel extremely embarrassed, unsure if Song Qingshu was genuinely lacking in taste or was deliberately mocking him. He could only force a smile and say, “I am truly lacking in insight; if this arrangement does not meet the gentlemen’s expectations, I am indeed at fault.”

Suo Etu frowned slightly, not expecting that his newly sworn brother was such a rough character. He couldn’t fathom how he had managed to become the top figure in the Jin Dynasty.

However, compared to elegance, interests were undoubtedly more important. Although he quite liked Wu Zhirong’s layout, he still echoed Song Qingshu’s words, making Wu Zhirong’s heart tremble, wishing he could find a hole to hide in.

Seeing that the guests had already stood respectfully waiting, Song Qingshu knew he was not their direct superior. If he continued to press the issue, it would inevitably cause embarrassment for everyone. Thus, he signaled for them to take their seats. The governor of the two rivers had returned to his office the previous day, while the provincial governor and the finance commissioner remained in Yangzhou to accompany the two countries’ envoys. The other guests were either renowned scholars or salt merchants with titles and honors.

The banquet in Yangzhou was quite lavish and elaborate. Just the tea and snacks served before the meal alone numbered in the dozens. Although Song Qingshu came from a later time and had seen much of the world, he still couldn’t recognize them all. After sipping tea for a while, Song Qingshu was only half-heartedly engaging in conversation. The others noticed his lack of enthusiasm, and with the example of Wu Zhirong in mind, no one dared to provoke him. Instead, they all fawned over Suo Etu, who was known for his charm and ability to handle situations with ease. A few casual remarks from him made the officials feel as if they were basking in spring sunshine, unable to contain their joy.

As Song Qingshu pondered the matter of the Song Dynasty’s envoy and how to seize the opportunity to investigate the temple, he suddenly heard an official boasting about the various wonders of Yangzhou. An idea struck him, and he abruptly spoke up, “Yangzhou is great for everything, except for the monks.” 

The people at the table exchanged glances, unsure of what he meant by that sudden remark. Mu Tianyan, the director of the Bureau of Revenue, was a perceptive and knowledgeable person. He chimed in, “What the Marshal said is quite true. The monks in Yangzhou are snobbish, flattering the authorities and bullying the poor; that has been the case since ancient times.” 

Now it was Song Qingshu’s turn to be taken aback. He had intended to stir up trouble, but from what the other person said, it seemed there was some historical reference behind it. He followed up with a question, “Indeed, you are a scholar, Mu Daren, so you must know what the books say.” 

Mu Tianyan replied, “The story of Wang Bo and the green silk curtain is from Yangzhou, isn’t it?” 

Song Qingshu felt a wave of confusion wash over him; he had never heard of this story. Fortunately, the role he was playing was that of a rough and uncultured Jin person, so he wouldn’t mind being labeled as uneducated. He laughed and asked, “What story about ‘Huang Bu Bi Sha Long’?” 

Suo Etu nearly choked on his tea at the crude way Song Qingshu spoke. This story was well-known among scholars, but he worried about the other person’s pride, so he pretended it was his first time hearing it too. 

Mu Tianyan explained, “To clarify, it’s Wang Bo, not Huang Bu. This story takes place at the Chan Zhi Temple in Yangzhou. During the Qianyuan period of the Tang Dynasty, this temple was still called Mulan Courtyard. The poet Wang Bo, when he was young and poor, lived there. The monks would ring a bell to signal mealtime, and when Wang Bo heard the bell, he would go to the dining hall. The monks disliked him, and one time they ate first and rang the bell afterward. When Wang Bo heard the bell and entered the dining hall, he found that the monks had already finished their meal and left nothing behind…” 

Originally, Song Qingshu had only asked out of curiosity, but upon hearing this, he felt a surge of indignation. He slammed the table and exclaimed, “Those damn monks are despicable!” 

Suo Etu echoed, “Indeed, how much effort does it take to serve a meal? These monks are truly detestable.” 

Seeing that he had piqued the interest of the two envoys, Mu Tianyan felt delighted and continued, “At that time, Wang Bo felt ashamed and wrote a poem on the wall:

The sermon done, we scatter east and west;

Ashamed, I return to my hut as the supper bell sounds.'” 

“Li (黎)?” Song Qingshu was taken aback. 

The officials had spent enough time with him to know that this envoy from the Jin Dynasty was not a scholar at all, practically illiterate. Thus, Mu Tianyan kindly explained, “Li refers to the monk.” 

As Song Qingshu scanned the expressions of the crowd, he guessed their thoughts with near certainty and couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. ‘They’re truly wronging Tang Kuo Bian this time; not to mention him, even I don’t know.’ 

“What happened next?” Song Qingshu hurriedly asked.