Volume One: The Little Monk Returns to Secular Life Chapter Eighty-One: Mid-Autumn Festival (Part Three)

“It’s not that the poem is bad,” Qin Xuanxuan said, frowning, “but the last line is misleading—‘Dead rats fill the streets, sating hunger.’ The truth is, you can’t eat the dead rats in disaster areas. If you do, you’ll die.”

This was written in Xiao Yan’s disaster relief pamphlet, and recently, people had begun collecting data and studying its validity. Reports had indeed pointed out that most plagues and illnesses stemmed from eating those dead rats.

If this poem were to spread, how many lives would it endanger?

“How did you know that?” Zhu Wenting asked, puzzled. “Don’t tell me you’ve experienced famine yourself?”

Qin Xuanxuan shook her head, smiling. “No, I’ve only heard about it from others.”

“Don’t let rumors spoil the enjoyment of poetry,” Zhu Wenting replied. “I hear this Young Master Yao is the son of the Deputy Minister of Rites, and his talent is evident… If I get the chance, I’d like to meet him…”

Qin Xuanxuan could only force a smile and say nothing more.

“But this year’s real highlight is Young Master Sun. Though we may have to wait a while… It’s so exciting.” Zhu Wenting’s face was full of anticipation.

“Yes, Young Master Sun is indeed remarkable. Last year’s poems had considerable depth,” Qin Xuanxuan agreed.

“Xuanxuan, I saw Young Master Sun at a poetry gathering a few days ago. He mentioned you specifically—said he’s missed you terribly… I must admit, I envy you,” Zhu Wenting, always a gossip, continued enthusiastically.

“Haha, it’s kind of him to care,” Qin Xuanxuan replied with a gentle smile, though her heart remained unmoved.

“But I heard you’re already engaged? Betrothed since childhood?” Zhu Wenting pressed, repeating some rumor she’d heard.

“…Yes,” Qin Xuanxuan’s feelings grew complicated at the mention.

But in Zhu Wenting’s eyes, it looked as though Qin Xuanxuan was too embarrassed to speak, so she consoled her: “I heard he’s just a little monk. Even if he leaves the order for you, he’s not an educated man. Marrying such a person would be a waste. If you ask me, even though Young Master Sun has a wife, he’s interested in you. Being his concubine wouldn’t be so bad—life with a great poet must be much more interesting. If he favored me, I’d marry him without hesitation…”

“Haha, Sister Zhu, don’t say such things—if word gets out, it’ll stir gossip…” Qin Xuanxuan shook her head. Yet, when it came to what was truly interesting, a bald head flashed through her mind, and the thought made her lips curl in a smile.

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“But, I think you’ve taken a liking to him, haven’t you?” Zhu Wenting observed Qin Xuanxuan’s smile and felt sure of it.

Qin Xuanxuan shook her head seriously. “Please, Sister Zhu, don’t joke like this. I’m not someone who breaks womanly virtue. If Xiao Yan truly leaves the order, I will marry him.”

Zhu Wenting’s expression soured. “I meant well, but suit yourself. I’ve never heard of anyone wishing to marry a monk—such a pity for you.”

“Sister Zhu, I know you mean well…” Qin Xuanxuan replied, feeling a little frustrated but remaining polite as always, careful not to offend.

“That’s better. I worry for you… But judging by your tone, you must have met this monk?”

“Yes, I have. Actually, he’s not bad. A little mischievous, but a good man,” Qin Xuanxuan nodded, an involuntary smile forming on her lips.

“What good could a monk possibly have? All they do is recite scriptures and eat vegetarian meals…” Zhu Wenting shook her head. “Don’t be foolish, Xuanxuan.”

“Actually… he writes poetry, too. His handwriting’s a bit ugly, but he can compose verses.”

Qin Xuanxuan defended him.

“Haha… What kind of poetry could a monk write?” Zhu Wenting laughed, never having heard of a monk who could compose poetry.

But it wasn’t really her fault. In this era, monks were seen as capable only of profound Buddhist teachings or legal matters.

Poetry?

Forget it…

Qin Xuanxuan shook her head and said nothing further. Some things didn’t need explanation; they needed to be revealed, plain for all to see—that was the greatest shock.

Just like when Qin Xuanxuan first seriously looked at the sheet of paper in her arms, covered in verses.

So, she reached into her bosom, intending to take out that very paper.

After all, though Xiao Yan had yet to leave the order or confirm their engagement, it didn’t mean Qin Xuanxuan couldn’t help restore his reputation.

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Just as she was about to place the sheet inscribed with “Song of the Wine” before Zhu Wenting and say, “These are the verses written by my betrothed—he leaves Young Master Sun far behind; why should I be his concubine?”—a commotion sounded nearby.

“Come quick, everyone! This monk’s about to fight someone! Where did this wild monk come from?”

“He’s dangerous! Look at those flashy clothes—he doesn’t look like a monk at all.”

…

Hearing this, Zhu Wenting grabbed Qin Xuanxuan and hurried to the side of the painted boat to watch the excitement on the shore.

A little monk stood there holding a wooden bucket, brandishing a ladle and cursing at a scholar: “Idiot! You’re misleading people! Go ahead and eat a dead rat! Have your whole family eat dead rats! Let’s see how many days you live! I guarantee you’ll all die!”

From a distance, Zhu Wenting immediately recognized the scholar as Yao Youcai, son of the Deputy Minister of Rites.

“Disgraceful! That monk is utterly uncouth!” Zhu Wenting spat, clearly practiced in indignation.

But Qin Xuanxuan, seeing the bald figure, suddenly lit up, excitement flashing in her eyes as she murmured quietly, “That troublemaker…”

Yao Youcai, dressed as a scholar, stylishly twirled a folding fan and looked down on the little monk with disdain. “Ignorant! Barbarian!”

“Heh…” The little monk said nothing more, simply dipped his ladle in the bucket, scooped out something, and flung it at him.

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