In spring, the Zhang Mansion's "Wanxiang Garden" resembles a vibrant painting meticulously crafted by nature, overflowing with vitality and poetry. The weeping crabapples bloomed with vibrant energy, their delicate pink blossoms cascading down like clouds from the horizon, dangling from the branches. A gentle breeze rustled the petals, scattering them like snowflakes across the winding corridor, blanketing it with a dreamy carpet of flowers. A parrot hung beneath the porch, eagerly mimicking the lines from my storybook: "The heroine entered the teahouse, carrying a basket—" Its adorable appearance made Miss Li burst into laughter. She fanned herself, gently tapped the parrot's cage, and half-jokingly chirped, "Little beast, if you keep imitating me, I'll give you to Sister Su as a snack!"
At that time, I was squatting beside a delicate, translucent Taihu stone, intently feeding a thrush. Its lively eyes darted around as it happily pecked at the food, emitting a clear, crisp chirp. Mo Zhu approached with a brisk step, carrying a stack of brand-new storybooks. The oil-paper wrappers were emblazoned with the words "Jin Xiu Yuan," gleaming enchantingly in the spring sunshine. Mo Zhu's face was beaming with excitement, and he eagerly declared, "Miss, the bookstore has word that your new work, 'Adventures in the Dim Sum Shop,' is selling like hotcakes. Even the distinguished Consort Shu from the Imperial Court has sent someone to buy it!"
As soon as these words were spoken, the corridor erupted in joyful laughter. Miss Zhang, like a lively fawn, bounded towards me, holding a piece of Xue Tao paper. The peach blossom hairpin in her hair swayed gracefully with her movements, its shimmering light dazzling the eyes. "Sister Su, take a look at what Sister Wu has written—'The heroine chases the thief, clutching a candy cake, her skirt sweeping over tofu pudding!'" Miss Zhang said, grinning from ear to ear.
Upon hearing this, Miss Wu blushed with shame and quickly covered her face with a handkerchief. The jasmine powder on her sleeves dribbled down. She said coquettishly, "Stop reading it! Your 'hero climbs over the wall and falls into the vegetable patch, getting covered in chive flowers' is so funny!"
I took the poem with a smile, my fingertips inadvertently brushing against the ink stain. Looking at the handwriting on the paper, I couldn't help but recall the note Jiang Yan had slipped into my storybook half a month ago at the bookstore, unnoticed. It read, "That tofu pudding part was fantastic. Let's go to Zhang's someday to try it?" My heart skipped a beat at this thought, and just then, the crisp sound of rings and pendants from outside the Moon Gate interrupted my thoughts.
Following the sound, I saw Liu Yuru standing gracefully beneath the crabapple tree. She wore a light green silk dress that should have been fresh and elegant, but it made her face look even paler. Behind her, a maid respectfully held a red sandalwood box, intricately carved with lotus patterns, the lines flowing and the craftsmanship exquisite. It had been part of Liu's dowry, but now she was using it for show.
"Su Jinli," she approached with a haughty gait, her chin held high. Her gold-inlaid jade earrings shone coldly as she moved, a hint of provocation. "You were lucky enough to make it through the poetry gathering last time. Today, I must challenge you to a duel!"
Seeing this, Miss Li immediately stepped forward, like a hen protecting her chicks, blocking my way. Her pomegranate-red bodice fluttered in the breeze, gently brushing against the teacups on the stone table, making a crisp sound. Miss Li looked directly at Liu Yuru fearlessly and demanded, "Liu Yuru, what are you planning to do next?"
Liu Yuru snorted coldly, a hint of disdain in her eyes. She slammed the rosewood box heavily onto the stone table, startling the thrushes into a flutter. She shouted, "Let's each write a poem on the theme of 'wind'. What do you think? Do you dare to accept it?"
Liu Yuru gripped the wolf-hair brush tightly, her knuckles white from the strain. Her gaze was fixed on the willow branches swaying in the breeze outside the corridor, her brow furrowed, and beads of sweat formed on the tip of her nose. Just now, Miss Zhang had deliberately pushed the inkstone in front of her, sending ink splattering across her moon-white petticoat, like a sheet of dirty snow, a particularly glaring sight.
"Alright!" She suddenly threw her pen down with force, her voice sharp and rapid. "The spring breeze warms your face, the summer breeze brings the fragrance of lotus. The autumn wind sweeps away fallen leaves, the winter wind is bone-chillingly cold."
Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment. Miss Zhang's shoulders trembled slightly from trying to suppress her laughter, while Miss Li quickly covered her mouth with her fan and feigned a cough to hide her laughter. Liu Yuru, however, held her chin high, a hint of pride in her eyes. She pointed at the blank rice paper in front of me and said, "Su Jinli, it's your turn."
I calmly picked up my brush and dipped it in ink when I caught a glimpse of Jiang Yan standing quietly outside the moonlit gate. He was dressed in a moon-white brocade robe, its texture soft and flowing in the breeze, highlighting his slender and upright figure. A bamboo flute rested across his waist, gleaming with a warm luster in the sunlight. He was quietly gazing at the wisteria trellis in the corridor, where the poem I wrote yesterday hung. The wind blew, and the paper swayed gently, like a white bird fluttering its wings, ready to take flight.
Seeing this scene, my heart was moved, and inspiration surged. The tip of the pen gently touched the rice paper, and the ink traces were like a nimble dragon, winding across the paper:
"It sheds its leaves in the third month of autumn, and blooms its flowers in the second month.
Thousands of feet of waves cross the river, and thousands of bamboos lean against the water."
As the final stroke was drawn, the teacup in Liu Yuru's hand clattered to the ground with a clang, shattering into pieces. Miss Wu was the first to react, clapping excitedly. The peach blossom hairpin in her hair nearly fell off in excitement. She exclaimed, "What a wonderful 'Thousand-foot Waves Across the River'! Sister Su, it feels like the wind is truly roaring out of the poem!"
"Yes, yes!" Miss Zhang excitedly tugged at my sleeve, shaking it non-stop. "It's a hundred times better than Liu Yuru's dry poem!"
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