Volume One: The Young Monk’s Return to Secular Life Chapter Eighty-Four: I Am Your Grandfather!

The old man with the white hair picked up the rice paper, frowned slightly, and began to read:

"A thousand mountains, no birds in sight;
Ten thousand paths, no traces of man.
A lonely boat, an old man in a straw cloak and hat...

"

As soon as these three lines of five-character verse were read, the expressions of everyone present changed. What a marvelous poem this was... one could tell at once it was a work of real quality...

At that moment, however, the old man paused and did not continue. His expression turned a little strange.

After savoring those three lines, everyone was eager to hear the fourth, and someone anxiously asked, "What comes next?"

This hardly suited the mood of an Autumn Moon Poetry Gathering, yet the poem was simply too well written to care.

"Teacher, what is it?"

Seeing that the old man had no intention of continuing, someone asked softly, "Teacher, are you unwell? Shall I read it for you instead?"

The old man frowned, sighed, and shook his head. "Very well, I shall read it myself. There are two poems here."

"A thousand mountains, no birds in sight;
Ten thousand paths, no traces of man.
A lonely boat, an old man in a straw cloak and hat—
I am your grandfather!

"

When he finished, the entire hall fell silent. Some people suspected their ears were faulty.

What was that? It sounded as though a venerable elder was insulting someone.

I am your grandfather?

And yet somehow it even rhymed... and did not seem entirely wrong...

Everyone exchanged looks, and in one another's eyes they saw the same confusion.

But the old man still did not stop.

"Before my bed, the moonlight glows;
I suspect the ground is covered with frost.
I lift my head to gaze at the bright moon;
I am your grandfather!

"

The room was silent once more.

"Teacher... could you perhaps refrain from cursing?" someone muttered under his breath.

"This poem is simply written that way..." The old man shook his head and passed the paper to the others.

"This..."

The crowd took the rice paper and passed it around. Sure enough, there were only two poems on it, and the final line of each stood out with glaring absurdity.

I am your grandfather!

"Is this even poetry?" someone asked in bewilderment.

If one were to say it was not poetry, yet it did rhyme rather well, and the first three lines of each were exquisitely balanced, the atmosphere and choice of words excellent. But the final line ruined the entire poem.

"This is far too outrageous," Zhao Qianming said angrily.

"Truly an insult to letters and refinement! An insult to letters and refinement!" Sun Limin frowned and loudly cursed.

"May I ask who composed these two poems?"

At that, the others could not help looking more closely at the rice paper again.

Beneath the two poems there was indeed a signature, but the handwriting was ugly and difficult to make out.

Someone frowned and read aloud from the page, "Poem by: Xiao Huohuo?"

"Who is that? I've never heard of him. Has anyone else?" someone asked with a frown.

"I have never heard of this person either." The others all shook their heads.

"Xiao? Xiao Yan!" Zhu Wenting squeezed forward, staring wide-eyed at the two characters on the page.

In her mind she recalled the name Qin Xuanxuan had just mentioned: Xiao Yan!

Betrothed by childhood agreement?

A monk?

Xiao Yan?

When she pieced those clues together, Zhu Wenting seemed to guess something.

"Miss Zhu, do you know this person?"

Sun Limin, standing beside her, asked in confusion.

"I'm not entirely certain, but... do you remember me saying that the person betrothed to Qin Xuanxuan by childhood agreement was a monk? And I just heard her say that this monk is also called Xiao Yan..." Zhu Wenting said, frowning.

"Could there really be such a coincidence?" Zhao Qianming frowned and called over the servant who had brought the rice paper, asking, "Speak. What exactly happened?"

The servant hesitated, but still slowly said, "Actually, I don't really know either. When I arrived, I had already seen Young Master Yao Youcai arguing with a monk. Then I saw that monk copy these two poems onto a sheet of rice paper, slap them onto Young Master Yao's face, and stride off without looking back..."

"Hahaha. A monk is still a monk; as expected, he can only write such crude verses. Insults indeed... If Miss Qin truly marries such a man, she will be pitiful, won't she..." Sun Limin said slowly, fanning himself.

"Exactly, exactly. I think Brother Sun should be the one to persuade Miss Qin..." Zhao Qianming added in agreement.

...

At that moment, the white-haired old man sighed and said, "In truth, the poems are good poems. You are all people who have read widely; how can you lack discernment? Take the first poem, for instance. Let us ignore the final line and analyze the mood of the first three lines. What do you think?"

Since the old man held such lofty standing and most of those on the painted pleasure boat were his disciples, the others began to frown and ponder.

"The words 'a thousand mountains' and 'ten thousand paths' are there to serve as a foil for the image of the 'lonely boat' in the lines below. Do you understand the finesse of this?" the old man continued. "The background is vast and desolate, almost boundless. The broader the setting, the more striking the central image becomes. It's a pity, though..."

"The one who wrote this poem was far too mischievous. The final line, 'I call you... never mind...' was merely a prank, likely not the true original line at all. He probably only meant to insult someone... What a waste of such talent..." The old man shook his head.

Only then did the others begin to notice the unusual brilliance of the verses. In truth, it was exactly as he said.

The first poem's opening three lines were copied by Xiao Yan from "Snow on the River," written by Liu Zongyuan, one of the Great Eight Prose Masters of the Tang and Song dynasties.

The height of that poem was far beyond anything the young talents on the painted pleasure boat could compare with.

The other poem was likewise by the Tang poet Li Bai.

"I dare say that if these two poems had been written with their original final lines, then at today's Autumn Moon Poetry Gathering, no one would have been able to surpass him."

And then the white-haired old man gave the two poems his highest praise.

The crowd on the painted pleasure boat erupted in uproar. None of them had ever seen the old man bestow such high praise on another person.

At the same time, the two poems began to be copied and circulated.

Yet everyone who saw the page cursed the poet for being outrageous, and that single sheet of paper spread slowly through the gathering like a spark to dry tinder.

The whole Autumn Moon Poetry Gathering was immersed in a strange atmosphere. Some children began to find the poems amusing, catchy, and easy to remember.

So they started running about, chanting them again and again.

"Raise your head to gaze at the bright moon—I am your grandfather!"

"I am your grandfather!"

But as the little rascals kept reciting, they eventually remembered only the final line: "I am your grandfather!"

On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, even deep into midnight, stray voices could still be heard delivering that harmonious five-word greeting.

A little rascal went home happily, skipping along: "I am your grandfather!"

His grandfather flew into a rage and seized the child, giving him a fierce spanking.

Crack, crack, crack...

Only after the beating was over did the old man set his grandson down and say, "I am your grandfather!"

"..."

The little rascal got up, rubbed his red and swollen backside, and was just about to say something, but the habitual phrase had already become ingrained. As soon as he opened his mouth, out came, "I am your grandfather!"

For the latter half of the Mid-Autumn night, it was mostly the sound of children crying.

...

Of course, by the next day, the name Xiao Yan had spread throughout Jinshan City.

The first volume ends here.

P.S. These chapters are a little padded. Part of that is because I've been busy with work, and part of it is because I still haven't figured out how to lay out the second volume.

The second volume will begin to build the main thread. I hope you will continue to support it.