# 321. Taking a Disciple
Inside and outside the Meridian Gate, a deathly silence reigned. Hundreds of officials seemed collectively struck dumb, their ears still echoing with the biting sarcasm of that one line of poetry.
Only the literati among them could truly grasp the how sharp the ridicule contained in that verse was, a barb aimed straight at their heart.
Scholars do not fear being insulted, nor do they fear arguments; some even revel in seeing arguments as a path to understanding, priding themselves on the exchange. Those of lower rank enjoy quarreling with higher-ranked officials, while renowned scholars seek out arguments with those of equal standing—and sometimes even the emperor. When the emperor loses his temper, they would point at him and say, “Look, look, he’s lost his composure…”
Among them, the supervising secretaries excelled in this art.
Yet scholars, particularly those in high office, fear being condemned by three things.
First, by historical records.
Second, by essays.
Third, by poetry.
For these three touch upon what scholars value most: their reputation.
Their reputation now and after death.
“Though your bodies and names may perish, the rivers and mountains will endure for eternity…” This was a condemnation aimed at the heart, one no scholar could endure without pain. It was a verse laden with venomous scorn, cruelly given.
At that moment, hundreds of officials felt blood rush to their faces, experiencing the sting of humiliation.
It was not just the verse itself but also the fact that the one insulting this gathering of scholars was none other than a lowly nightwatcher.
Only after the figure with the short cloak and upright bearing had walked some distance did an official, voice trembling, speak:
“Arrogant knave! Wretched, uncouth boor… How dare he disgrace us so! Honored officials, is this not intolerable? Summon the troops and strike down this dog at once!”
The speaker was Yuan Xiong, the Left Censor-in-Chief. With all his schemes unravelling, his mood had plummeted into an abyss, and he felt like a powder keg ready to explode. The deliberate insult from Xu Qi’an outside the Meridian Gate drove a searing pain into his heart.
Yuan Xiong felt that Xu Qi’an’s verse was aimed at him personally, determined to nail him to the pillar of shame.
The next to lose his composure was Qin Yuandao, Deputy Minister of War. In a rage, he strode forward a few steps, shouting harshly:
“Guards! Where are the guards? Seize that dog who dares disgrace the officials of the court! This official commands you to stop him!”
But unfortunately, the guards of the Inner Palace only took orders from Emperor Yuanjing, not even the princesses or princes could command them.
Minister Sun felt a complex surge of emotions. He was furious, of course, but he also experienced a faint sense of relief, knowing that Xu Qi’an hadn’t singled anyone out by name.
He had nailed them all to the pillar of shame together, spreading the insult so that no one’s humiliation felt quite as piercing.
Minister Sun couldn’t quite understand why he felt this way, but he hadn’t read Lu Xun’s books, after all.
“Wei Gong has truly nurtured a capable subordinate.”
Prime Minister Wang smirked, his tone laced with sarcasm.
Even someone as composed as Prime Minister Wang couldn’t help but feel stung; the verse’s impact was a testament to its power.
Officials all around glared at Wei Yuan, demanding an explanation with their eyes.
Wei Yuan, as if just realising what had happened, calmly responded, “What’s this commotion for, my lords? Have you all taken it personally?”
…The officials froze, feeling as if Wei Yuan had just turned the tables on them with a casual remark.
“But… how should this be recorded in the historical records?” murmured a young scholar from the Hanlin Academy.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than several officials turned to stare at him with a look that seemed to say: Did all your reading dull your wits?
The Hanlin scholar shrank back and said, “Such a trivial matter is hardly worthy of the annals.”
Wei Yuan replied flatly, “The court has adjourned. It is improper to gather at the Meridian Gate. I suggest we disperse.”
With that, he led the way out. After walking a short distance, Wei Yuan could no longer hide the smile tugging at his lips and let out a small, schadenfreude-filled chuckle.
After leaving the palace gates and entering his carriage, Wei Yuan, in high spirits, recounted the events at the Meridian Gate to his effeminate adoptive son, Nangong Qianrou, who was driving.
Nangong Qianrou chuckled, “Father, weren’t you also among the officials at that time?”
Wei Yuan’s smile gradually faded from his face.
Outside the Meridian Gate, Princesses Huaiqing and Lin’an remained, watching the backs of the officials as they dispersed.
“Though your bodies and names may perish, the rivers and mountains will endure for eternity…” Huaiqing murmured, her eyes fixed on the officials’ retreating forms, but her thoughts were on the upright figure of Xu Qi’an, leaving with his blade in hand.
Xu Ningyan was different from usual martial artists. He understood exactly how to strike at someone’s most vulnerable point, wielding the sharpest attack against his enemies without putting himself in danger.
To strike at the heart with poetry, hitting scholars where it hurt—this was a skill unique to Xu Ningyan.
“Running dog was truly awe-inspiring…” murmured Princess Lin’an.
In her mind, there was only one image: that of her running dog, with a lightly said verse, making the civil and military officials fly into a rage yet remain helpless.
To Lin’an, not even her father could achieve such a feat. Her father could wield his power to oppress others, but he could not do so with the effortless grace of Xu Qi’an.
Her alluring peach blossom eyes sparkled with pride as she straightened her chest, managing to rival Huaiqing for a rare moment.
…
In the palace, Emperor Yuanjing, having concluded the morning court, sat with a Daoist scripture in hand, listening silently as the old eunuch reported everything that had happened at the Meridian Gate.
“What boldness,” Emperor Yuanjing laughed, his tone somewhere between praise and ridicule.
However, the old eunuch could sense one thing with certainty: Emperor Yuanjing was aware of Xu Qi’an’s brashness, yet he had no intention of punishing him.
The old eunuch could guess the emperor’s thoughts. Xu Qi’an’s actions aligned him more closely with the path of a lone minister, walking the road once taken by Wei Yuan.
And a lone minister was often the emperor’s most trusted.
A talented young man, capable and gifted, was far more useful as a lone minister than if he were to curry favour, forming cliques wherever he went.
“Though your bodies and names may perish, the rivers and mountains will endure for eternity!”
Emperor Yuanjing laughed heartily, an amused expression crossing his face, “What fine verse! Our Great Feng’s premier poet indeed! Great Steward, relay our order to the Hanlin Academy to record this event in the annals—We will review it Ourselves.”
This was His Majesty’s revenge on the scholars of the Hanlin Academy. Both poems by the Xu brothers had greatly pleased His Majesty. The old eunuch took his leave.
“Though your bodies and names may perish, the rivers and mountains will endure for eternity…”
Emperor Yuanjing murmured the verse again, his expression shifting, as the longing for immortality burned even more intensely within him.
…
At lunchtime, Chu Yuanzhen listened as an old friend recounted the events in court, particularly the scene where Xu Ningyan, standing alone with his sabre, confronted the officials and mocked them with poetry.
*This… so this is how he broke the deadlock... To pit the military nobles against the civil officials—an interesting approach, but incredibly difficult to execute. How did Xu Ningyan and Number Three pull this off? Indeed, those two are true brothers, with an extraordinary talent for poetry.*
*It’s unfortunate that Number Three’s wings haven’t fully grown yet. His rank is still low, far beneath that of his cousin, Xu Qi'an. Otherwise, he would surely have been among those who entered the tomb. But, considering how weakened the Confucian system has become, it makes sense that Number Three's rank remains low.*
Chu Yuanzhen gave a word of praise for the poem Number Three recited in court, then let the matter drop. Though it was a fine piece, he found the final line unsatisfactory. In contrast, Xu Ningyan’s mocking verse stirred his blood, inspiring him to down three cups of wine in quick succession.
“I’ve long wanted to curse those idle seat-warmers. But alas, poetry isn’t my forte. Xu Ningyan truly deserves to be called the Great Feng’s Prime Poet—his words cut to the bone.” Chu Yuanzhen laughed heartily.
Feeling elated, he had an urge to seek out Xu Ningyan for drinks and revelry, but, mindful of the work Xu Ningyan still had to handle from his cousin’s examination fraud case, he held back.
...
Wang Manor.
Wang Simu, who had been following the case closely, gathered information through her own channels about the fierce clash in court that morning and about the mocking verse recited at the Meridian Gate.
“I knew it. Huiyuan Xu is unmatched in talent—how could he possibly cheat in the imperial exams? Hmm, and his cousin, Xu Ningyan, went even further, working behind the scenes to gain the support of the Duke of Cao and King Yu, securing the backing of the court’s nobles for Huiyuan Xu.
“That’s quite an impressive network. I’m also pleasantly surprised that Wei Yuan didn’t intervene. He remained a bystander from start to finish. This way, Huiyuan Xu avoids being branded as a eunuch’s ally, which will have a lasting impact on his future.”
*Of course, that’s also a benefit to me...* Miss Wang smiled sweetly.
Beside her, her maid Lan’er listened with feigned attentiveness, although she was thoroughly confused.
“Lan’er, go to the Xu residence and arrange for Huiyuan Xu to... No, that would seem too forward, as if I were seeking credit,” Miss Wang shook her head, dismissing the idea.
She thought to herself that remaining silent would better demonstrate her poise and foresight. Rushing to claim credit might make her seem petty in the eyes of the Xu family’s matriarch.
Between wise people, one didn’t need to be too obvious—understanding each other’s intentions was enough.
...
At the Sitianjian.
As Yang Qianhuan passed by the alchemy room on the seventh floor, he overheard his junior disciples discussing the events in court that morning. Normally, he paid no attention to such matters, dismissing them as trivial, but upon hearing “Xu Ningyan,” he slowed his steps. His instincts told him that this might be another chance to expand his knowledge.
“Master Xu’s poem was truly satisfying! I’d say it’s the first mocking verse of its kind in centuries.”
“Don’t exaggerate, but yes, it was very refreshing. Especially when he stood at the Meridian Gate, saying it to everyone’s faces...”
*A poem? What poem?*
Yang Qianhuan moved closer, his voice low. “What are you all talking about?”
The alchemists in white were startled, complaining, “Senior Brother Yang, you always sneak up like that. It’s terrifying!”
Ignoring them, Yang Qianhuan pressed on. “What did Xu Ningyan do this time? One man blocking the entire court at the Meridian Gate? The first mocking verse in history?”
The alchemists explained the events of the day to him.
Yang Qianhuan stood frozen as if struck by lightning. A vision formed in his mind: as the officials left the court, they were halted by a lone figure in white standing at the Meridian Gate, blocking their path. Outraged, they berated him for his audacity.
The white-clad arcanist ignored their insults, and then, with a booming voice, he recited, “Though your bodies and names may perish, the rivers and mountains will endure for eternity.”
The civil and military officials were left speechless, dumbfounded on the spot.
As he pictured this, Yang Qianhuan felt an electric current course through him, his body trembling with excitement, goosebumps rising from his neck to his arms.
*Why... why is it always Xu Ningyan, achieving one feat after another that others can only envy? Standing alone against four hundred rebels in Yunzhou, dueling with the Buddhist monks before thousands... It’s too unfair, too unfair.*
*When is the next court assembly? I... I have to be at the Meridian Gate. I must go.*
...
At noon, at the Jiaofangsi.
Xu Qi'an and Fuxiang sat across from each other, sipping tea. He recounted the events in court, including Xu Xinnian’s patriotic poem and his own cutting verse at the Meridian Gate.
As a lover of poetry, Fuxiang was captivated, especially by Xu Qi'an’s stand against the court officials. Her eyes glistened with admiration.
“I need you to do something for me. Spread the news about today’s court events.” With that, Xu Qi'an made his request.
The Jiaofangsi was the most efficient and swift way to disseminate information.
“And what reward does my dear Sir Xu plan to offer me?” Fuxiang didn’t refuse, her gaze steady and longing as she looked at Xu Qi'an.
Her affection for him was plain as day.
Half an hour later, Xu Qi'an visited Mingyan, Xiaoya, and other well-known oiran, asking them to share today’s events in court during their tea gatherings.
Then, he mounted his mare and rode home.
The fraud scandal in the imperial examinations was a devastating blow to Xu Xinnian’s reputation. With deliberate spreading, now all of the capital’s scholars and commoners alike believed that Xu Xinnian had won the top scholar title through dishonest means.
This impression would take root over time, and once it solidified, even if the court later proved his innocence, it would be difficult to reverse public perception.
Moreover, the scandal wasn’t over yet; in five days, the palace examination would take place. Xu Qi'an had to guard against Minister Sun and his allies, who might make a desperate move on the eve of the examination.
For instance, they might incite the students of the Imperial Academy to cause a disturbance.
If public opinion could be turned around quickly, the students of the Imperial Academy would have no justified cause, and any planned trouble would amount to nothing.
When everyone knows that Xu Xinnian was wronged, even if you pretend not to notice, you won’t gain the support or approval of the people.
Whether in war or in strategy, the ancients valued just cause.
*The favor from King Yu has been used up, but it was worth it. Fortunately, King Yu long abandoned his ambition for fame and gain; otherwise, he might not have supported me… As for the Duke of Cao, I still owe him the promised benefits. Given the forces of a duke and the deputy general under the Zhenbei King, reneging on my word would surely backfire on me…*
*It’s highly likely the Zhenbei King is unaware of this scheme—it’s a plan devised by his deputy general and the Duke of Cao. But as a mere Silver Gong, even if the Zhenbei King found out, he wouldn’t blame his deputy. Besides, the Buddhist’s Vajra Invincibility technique would tempt even a high-ranked warrior. After all, it enhances one’s defences and, at advanced levels, might even push one’s combat ability to new heights. There’s no reason he wouldn’t covet it*
*So, I’ll have to deliver on my promises. But perhaps… I’ll write the Nine Yin Manual in reverse…*[^1]
…
After dusk, a joyful atmosphere filled the Xu family dining table. Auntie enthusiastically served Xu Xinnian and Xu Qi'an, treating them both as if they were her own sons.
Of course, this attitude wouldn’t last long. Inevitably, when her nephew exasperated her again, Auntie would recall her old grievances, and things would return to normal.
But at this moment, Auntie’s gratitude was as genuine as 24-karat gold.
Xu Lingyue enjoyed the warmth of this family atmosphere, her admiration for her elder brother deepening. Her lively eyes lingered on Xu Qi'an.
“Uh, I have something to say.”
Lina swallowed her food and, with an unusually serious expression, looked at Xu Qi'an and Second Uncle Xu.
“What is it?” Xu Qi'an asked as he ate.
Second Uncle lifted his wine cup, took a sip, and glanced at the dark-skinned girl from the Southern Marches out of the corner of his eye.
Lina’s little face grew solemn as she glanced at Xu Lingyin, then said, “I want to take Lingyin as my disciple.”
“Pfft…” Xu Qi'an spat out his food.
“Pfft…” Second Uncle sprayed his wine.
The family was caught entirely off guard.
Xu Xinnian brushed the rice off his clothes with a look of disdain, shifting a bit farther from his elder brother before turning to Lina. “Explain your reasoning.”
---
[^1]: Reference to *Legend of the Condor Heroes*, where **(Spoilers)** Huang Rong wrote the Nine-Yin manual backwards for Ouyang Feng, which lead to him learning a bastardised version that corrupted his mind.