Chapter Seventy-Five: Lantern Riddles (Part Two)

On New Year’s Eve in the Prefecture of Bianjing, a festive atmosphere filled the night. The citizens of the city worshipped Heaven and Earth, made offerings to their ancestors, paid New Year calls, visited friends and relatives, each busier than the next. Over the doors of their homes, they pasted images of door gods, Zhong Kui, peachwood charms, and other decorations to welcome the new year.

Most vibrant of all were the lantern displays. People gathered around silk lanterns, eagerly guessing the riddles attached. Those who solved the riddles correctly cheered and received handsome rewards; those who failed either left dejected or prepared to try their luck at the next lantern.

The grandest spectacle was at the Cai Family’s Garden, where the contest for riddle-solving had reached a fever pitch. The scholars, only two rounds away from victory, could already envision the lavish rewards: three gold ingots, five bolts of silk, eight bolts of Shu brocade, fine wines, and venison...

But the greatest temptation was the rumor that the renowned beauty of the Cai clan, the eighth lady, might make an appearance. Some even dreamed of winning her favor and bringing her home for the New Year.

One of the Cai family's handmaidens had just affixed a riddle to an ornate lantern and hoisted it high above the crowd: “Round when drawn, square when written, short in winter, long in summer.” The puzzle was not difficult—it hinted at a word or an object—and soon Zhao Mingcheng, He Changyan, Ye Mengde, Li Sanjian, and others guessed the answer: the sun, or the character for ‘sun.’

The challenge lay not in the answer itself, but in expressing it with poetic elegance. A direct response would appear shallow and could cost the contender his place in the contest.

“Slanting rays linger at the altar till dusk, Departing with the seasons to their destined place. Tree shadows don the clouds’ five colors, Opening the window, one sees the end of the day.” While the others pondered, Ye Mengde was the first to answer, reciting a seven-character regulated verse that unveiled the answer.

“Bravo! Bravo! Well done!” the audience cried. “What a line—‘Departing with the seasons to their destined place!’” “Brother Shaoyun is indeed the pride of Pingjiang!” The crowd in the gallery broke into a thunderous ovation, the scholars from Pingjiang celebrating as if Ye Mengde had already claimed the prize.

Then, Zhao Mingcheng, a scholar from Bianjing, answered next with a succinct five-character quatrain, also revealing the answer. He finished, casting a proud glance at Ye Mengde, and the students from Bianjing responded with raucous cheers, their voices surging like waves.

He Changyan of Gorge River soon followed with a clever couplet. When it was Li Sanjian’s turn, he hesitated, glancing from the crowd below to those above, his face clouded with uncertainty. He looked as though he could not find an answer.

“Hanren, what are you doing?” Zeng Gongming called out from below, anxious at seeing Li Sanjian’s indecision.

Those from the distant southern regions, less refined and more rustic, thought this was typical—he had gotten by on luck so far, but now had exhausted his tricks. The southern scholars grew increasingly nervous, some quietly passing hints to Li Sanjian, while the others jeered and mocked him openly.

“It’s ‘sun’—just say the word,” Li Qingzhao, seated above, murmured anxiously to herself, hoping Li Sanjian would catch on.

Her companions glanced at her in puzzlement. Zhao Mingcheng looked on with disdain; He Changyan’s expression remained flat; Ye Mengde offered a reassuring pat on Li Sanjian’s shoulder. “Hanren, don’t worry,” he whispered, giving a subtle hint by glancing at the sky. Though he had a solution, he could not risk voicing it aloud.

Several of the handmaidens looked expectantly at Li Sanjian, waiting for his response. Had he not been somewhat handsome, they might have already scolded him or sent him down from the platform.

Under the scrutiny of the crowd, Li Sanjian finally nodded his thanks to Ye Mengde. After a moment’s thought, he awkwardly inquired of the handmaidens, “This… the earlier rewards… are they truly to be granted?”

Regret now filled Li Sanjian’s heart—he wished he hadn’t climbed the stage and drawn so much attention. Were it not for his family’s dire straits, he would never have had the heart to compose poetry or solve riddles on display. All he wanted was to collect whatever prize he had won and hurry home to spend the New Year with his mother.

His words provoked a new wave of derision from the crowd, who burst into laughter and pointed at him, mocking him mercilessly.

Zeng Gongming shook with anger, lost for words. To be so openly avaricious, even if one came for profit, was shameful in the eyes of a society that valued reputation above all. One could act for gain, but never admit it publicly. Why did Li Sanjian not ask whether he could win the beauty’s hand instead?

“You… you… you…” Even Li Qingzhao above was so exasperated that she stammered, unable to continue.

“Do you know him, sister?” Cai Rongxue, the young lady in crimson, asked in a low voice.

“How could I know someone so shamelessly greedy?” Li Qingzhao replied bitterly.

The pale-clad Miss Wang also fixed her gaze on Li Sanjian.

The handmaiden holding the lantern was caught between laughter and tears. “Only those who reach the third floor may claim the prize,” she replied.

In truth, had Li Sanjian insisted, they would have allowed him to take the reward, but never before had anyone asked midway through the contest. Usually, those who advanced either pressed on for greater glory or withdrew in disappointment, but none had ever so brazenly demanded their prize before the contest’s end. Thus, the handmaiden took the opportunity to tease him a little.

The other handmaidens, seeing his coarse cotton clothes, felt a pang of pity.

Li Sanjian, oblivious to the jest, assumed it was simply the rule, and realized he had no choice but to continue; otherwise, his efforts would be in vain.

After a moment of reflection, he recited, in a slow and steady voice, a “Butterfly Loves Flowers” lyric:

"Three times the bright moon rises, and once again it’s the beginning. For half a year, the Lady of Curved Eyebrows, until the sound falters and the sky clears. Four years by the door, awaiting the chaos of crows on the earthen block. In the Plum Rain Fairy Grotto, songs of dragons abound. The county’s evening crows, the rites remain. Embedded in empty fragrance, a sleeve wet with tears."

Within these lines, Li Sanjian not only conveyed the answer, but also delivered a veiled rebuke to the ladies above, expressing his helplessness and the hardships endured by impoverished scholars journeying to the capital for the examinations.

A gentle breeze stirred his worn, homespun robe, and though plainly dressed, he possessed a rustic elegance, his demeanor still dashing.

A fine young scholar in humble attire!

When he finished, a hush fell over all, for the crowd was full of learned men who could not miss the allusions—how “for half a year, the Lady of Curved Eyebrows, until the sound falters and the sky clears” hinted at the answer, or how “embedded in empty fragrance, a sleeve wet with tears” spoke to a hidden sorrow. They exchanged glances, momentarily speechless.

“Well done! Well done! What a magnificent ‘Butterfly Loves Flowers’!” Zeng Gongming was the first to shout, leaping up in excitement.

“Bravo! Hanren is indeed the greatest talent of Lingnan!”

“Indeed, Brother Li Hanren is the champion of our region!” The scholars from the south erupted in thunderous cheers, elated beyond words. Their joy at Li Sanjian’s triumph outshone their own ambitions, while the scholars from other regions hung their heads in defeat.

Many students looked resentfully at Zhao Mingcheng, wishing to pull him down from the stage and take his place; likewise, the scholars of Pingjiang and Gorge River cast disappointed looks at Ye Mengde and He Changyan, as if blaming them for not performing as well.

The others could not help but loudly praise Li Sanjian, some hastily copying down the lyric for posterity.

“All show, nothing more,” Li Qingzhao murmured, but a rare smile flickered on her lips.

Miss Wang shot her a disdainful glance and, peering through the beaded curtain, stole a look at Li Sanjian.

“Plum Rain Fairy Grotto, songs of dragons abound…” Cai Rongxue murmured the line to herself, then whispered a few words to her attendant.

“Brother, your talent surpasses mine,” Ye Mengde said sincerely, bowing with a smile.

“Not at all, I am shallow in learning, and only lucky. Not fit to be compared with you, Brother Shaoyun,” Li Sanjian replied, bowing in return.

As the two exchanged courtesies, a young handmaiden approached and asked, “May I ask, young sir, your honorable name and place of origin?”

Li Sanjian glanced at her and replied indifferently, “I am but a humble man, unworthy of honorifics. My surname is Li, given name Sanjian, a scholar from Guizhou, Lingnan.”

At this, a cry of surprise rose from below. Not many knew Hanren, but the name Li Sanjian was widely recognized, for his method of punctuation had become popular not only in Jiangnan but even in the capital, and many now used it in their writings. To hear his name caused a stir.

He had even earned the nickname Li Punctuation.

“So, you are Li Sanjian, the Punctuation Master?” He Changyan exclaimed.

“You’re the punctuation master—your whole family is punctuation!” Li Sanjian muttered under his breath, but nodded slightly.

Upon hearing his name, the three ladies above were also secretly astonished. Wang and Cai were merely surprised, but Li Qingzhao was truly taken aback. She had only recently learned his punctuation method and found it greatly helpful in her studies, but never imagined it was Li Sanjian’s invention. How could she not be amazed?

She stared at Li Sanjian, speechless for a long time.