Wife, Don't Be Like This!

Chapter 62 - The Death Knell

When young, I did not know the taste of sorrow;

I loved to climb the high pavilions.

I loved to climb the high pavilions,

To compose a new verse, I forced myself to speak of sorrow!

And now I have tasted all the sorrows,

I wish to speak, yet I refrain.

I wish to speak, yet I refrain,

And say instead, what a fine, cool autumn day.

This ci poem, let alone comparing it to the 'masterpieces' of the many talented scholars present, even looking back thirty years, one could not find a single one that could compare.

Normally, with the appearance of such a masterpiece worthy of being passed down through the ages, the scene should be filled with praise. But at this moment, it was dead silent.

Pairs of eyes would always inadvertently sweep past Song Yun. Some people's faces were angry, some sneered, and some had undisguised jealousy and hatred.

No wonder Song Yun was covered in a cold sweat before and refused to present this poem.

Was he afraid of getting beaten? This had just insulted everyone present. After all, they had just been moaning and groaning at length in their poems for the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl.

Even that Fang Jun's face was grim to the extreme. He had also just been lamenting... and had even used the sorrow of the Cowherd and Weaver Girl to extend to the corrupt officials within the Ning Kingdom and the strong Xiongnu enemies without worrying for the state and for the common people.

That theme was more than a level higher.

Originally, he had been very smug, but now he felt his entire face was burning with pain. He felt that this slap had hit him the hardest.

'To compose a new verse, I forced myself to speak of sorrow?'

Could you be any more ruthless?

Even those young ladies in their boudoirs had unfriendly expressions. After all, 'boudoir laments' and 'romantic sorrows' were what these young ladies wrote about the most.

Song Yun's body had completely stiffened. The moment 'to compose a new verse, I forced myself to speak of sorrow' came out, he felt a chill shoot up from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head. His entire body felt as if it had been frozen solid.

In his mind, only one word remained: Over.

Completely over.

He knew that from now on, there would no longer be a place for him in the circle of scholars in Songzhou city. If this spread, he would become the public enemy of the entire literary world of the Ning Kingdom.

Who hasn't been young? Which scholar hasn't written a couple of poems worrying about the country and its people?

And to think that before, he had thought Song Yan was preparing to build a good relationship with him, that he wanted to win him over. And to think that for a moment, he was even moved.

Only at this moment did he understand just how venomous Song Yan's thoughts were.

He had used an invisible knife to silently pierce through his own heart.

"Hehe... a fine verse, a fine verse indeed." Finally, Fang Jun's slightly dry voice tore through the oppressive dead silence of the scene.

He glanced sideways at Song Yun, his smile not reaching his eyes:

"Brother Song is worthy of being the Qilin Son of the Song family. When we write poetry, we only know how to lament and grieve. Compared to Brother Song's realm, we are lacking by more than one level."

"I have been taught."

This 'I have been taught' had the feeling of killing the person and attacking their heart.

Song Yun had been very covetous of the title 'Qilin Son of the Song family,' but now his body trembled, and he just wanted to cry.

"Since you have such a masterpiece, Brother Song should have taken it out earlier. Are we the kind of petty people who would seek revenge over a single verse?"

The one who spoke was Lu Tianrui, the son of the Song Prefecture Vice Prefect. He had just composed 'Qixi: Boudoir Feelings,' which had depicted the Weaver Girl's anxious waiting for the Cowherd in her boudoir, and also the reluctance and sadness of their parting, making more than a dozen young ladies cry.

"Indeed. We are all scholars and should naturally be broad-minded."

This time, the one who spoke was Ji Wenxuan, the son of the Song Prefecture Vice Magistrate.

Qixi verses were mostly written from a woman's perspective, or a dual male-female perspective. He had just come up with an original idea, depicting the anguish of missing his beloved wife but being unable to see her from the Cowherd's perspective, which had also drawn a round of applause.

Everyone was praising him. Everyone was expressing the same meaning: 'Don't worry, we won't beat you!'

The sarcastic tone made Song Yun's scalp tingle.

Seeing that look on their faces, Song Yan smiled: "Brother Shi'an, this poem... oh no, ci poem, what exactly does it mean?"

Cui Shi'an let out a breath. He felt pity for Song Yun; he was a good person, so he decided to say a few good words for Song Yun:

"This ci poem is a satire, satirizing some of the phenomena among the scholars of today."

"For example, some scholars have never been to the frontier, never been on a warhorse, never held a sword, yet they are there writing frontier poetry."

In the main hall, a few people blushed.

"It satirizes some scholars who linger in pleasure quarters all day, yet are there worrying about the country and its people."

Including Fang Jun, a large portion of the people blushed.

"It satirizes some people who have experienced nothing, yet are still there being all sentimental about partings in life and death."

Including those proper young ladies, everyone blushed.

"Brother Song Yun is a person of noble character. He wrote this ci poem to criticize this phenomenon, to express his own aspirations. He is ashamed to be associated with these people. He feels ashamed to even read the same books of the sages as them."

Cui Shi'an felt he was truly a good person. Look, he had praised Song Yun to the heavens.

He (Song Yun) really ought to thank him properly.

Song Yun was indeed very grateful to Cui Shi'an. So grateful that he was sweating profusely, his face deathly pale. Especially seeing the increasingly ugly expressions on the faces of the many scholars around him, he was so agitated he trembled all over.

Finally, Song Yun could no longer bear it. He shot up to his feet: "This ci poem was not written by me."

"It was... it was him!" He pointed a hand at Song Yan: "It was written by Song Yan."

In the end, he had lost his composure.

At this time, if he could have withstood the pressure, although he would have offended people, he could still have gained a good reputation.

But under his terror, he made the most wrong choice.

"Not written by you?" Fang Jun sneered: "Since it wasn't written by you, why did you admit to it before?"

That Wu Chen also sneered: "Do you take us all for fools? Besides, wasn't Little Divine Physician Song always trapped in his courtyard, and never even attended the clan school? How did he learn poetry and literature?"

Song Yun was sweating profusely from anxiety:

"Everyone, this ci poem really isn't..."

"Enough." Just then, an academic official who had been responsible for judging the many talented scholars' poems frowned, and slapped his hand on the table:

"To dare to act and dare to take responsibility is to be a true man. What does this behavior of yours look like? The face of all the students of Song Prefecture has been completely disgraced by you."

It was the Song Prefecture Education Commissioner, Sun Youde.

Don't be fooled by the fact that Sun Youde was just a grizzled old man; when he got angry, he was very scary. Song Yun instantly became as silent as a cicada in winter, not daring to speak.

"You say it wasn't written by you, then that means you falsely claimed another's poem. With such improper conduct, once this gets out, all the students of the entire Song Prefecture will be shamed because of you. How will you serve the country in the future?"

These words were not an exaggeration. The thing the ancients loved to do most was collective punishment.

"My Song Prefecture has no room for such a vile and shameless person. I hereby announce that from this day forward, Song Yun's ‘Xiucai’ title is revoked. You may go back."

Sun Youde waved his hand casually, clearly not wanting to see this Song Yun again…

Unlike the others, Sun Youde believed Song Yun's words. After all, he had already been in the Jade Gathering Garden... ahem, that's not right, he was this meek and inconsistent. How could such a person write such a masterpiece for the ages? He most likely used some despicable means to force Song Yan to pin this poem on his head.

The position of Education Commissioner, it's not a big post, but it's not a small one either. Normally it doesn't have much power, but it just so happens to be in charge of a prefecture's students. He still had the right to revoke a scholarly title.

Song Yun's body trembled violently. He had originally wanted to make a stunning debut at the Qixi gathering. Who would have thought that in the end, he would even lose his ‘Xiucai’ title?

How familiar this scene was, just like the last time he lost his fiancée.

As if all his vitality had been drained, Song Yun's entire person seemed to wither and shrink. His chest felt completely empty. The rustling sounds from all around, he could no longer hear them clearly. They were probably all mocking him.

The gazes were like swords and daggers, stabbing Song Yun until his whole body ached.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but couldn't make any sound.

His body could barely stand, staggering. He didn't even know how he had walked out of the Pine Garden. His mind was buzzing, as if a death knell were echoing.

As soon as he got outside, the cold wind blew, and he sobered up a little.

He looked around. Damn it, the servant boy who had come with him was nowhere to be seen. And he didn't know how to drive a horse.

Gritting his teeth, he ran towards the city gate.

He couldn't stay in Songzhou any longer. Those young masters probably wouldn't kill him, but a beating was likely unavoidable... But, what he was worried about wasn't those angry young masters. What he feared was... Song Yan.

He believed that Song Yan definitely had other methods, and it would absolutely not be as simple as just ruining his reputation.

That person wanted his life.

……

"I have a low tolerance for alcohol and am afraid I cannot accompany you all to your heart's content. I will take my leave now."

On the other side, in the garden, the Vice Prefect's son, Lu Tianrui, put down his teacup, stood up, and said so.

Then he cupped his fists to the surrounding crowd, turned, and left. A few others followed behind him.

They were clearly all drinking tea before. This excuse was a bit lame.