On the first midday of summer in the capital, the sun blazed fiercely, threatening to melt the bluestone pavement. Chen Weiwan waved a folded bamboo fan painted with "Stir-fried Pork and Cabbage." The glossy slices of meat seemed to drip with oil. She stood before the vermilion lacquered gate of the general's mansion, watching Chuntao tiptoe to paste a large red notice on the wall beside the gate. The red paper shone dizzyingly in the sunlight.
"Wai Poetry Society" is recruiting students!
Regardless of background or diploma, as long as one can make up rhymes and doggerel, even if they are just insulting jokes - everyone is welcome!
President: Shen Weiwan
Address: West Wing of the General's Mansion
(Note: Free sour plum soup is provided every day at 3:00 PM.)
"Miss," Chuntao wiped the sweat from her forehead, her face wrinkled like a bun under the oil-paper umbrella, "How come your poetry club even accepts beggars? The old beggar's story yesterday about 'Liu's abacus skills, calculating her own death' was quite funny, but the threshold of our general's mansion is almost flattened by them..."
"Hey~" Chen Weiwan tapped Chuntao's head gently with the fan bone, the tassel brushing her nose. "A hero's origins are not questioned, and a fool's wealth is not distinguished. Yesterday, Mr. Wang, the candied haws seller, wrote 'Weiwan marries the prince, and the price of candied haws increases by five cents.' Isn't that more poignant than those sour poems like 'The clouds resemble clothes, and the flowers resemble beauty' in the Hanlin Academy?"
Before he could finish his words, Zhang, the second brother from the tofu shop next door, passed by, carrying a shiny shoulder pole. His eyes suddenly lit up under his black felt hat. He put down the pole with a clang, leaned over to the notice, and read aloud, his stubble quivering with excitement: "Miss Shen! Does your poetry club accept tofu sellers? I was squatting in the toilet yesterday and came up with the line 'Tofu is white and tender, but it's not as good as being gentle and ruthless. In a few words, all the scumbags are finished.'"
"Collect!" Shen Weiwan smiled, her eyes narrowed into crescents, and the fan flapped open to cover half of her face. "To join the club, pay three pounds of tender tofu as the entrance fee! Tonight, I want to eat mapo tofu, with extra chili!"
Three days later, the grape trellises in the west wing of the General's Mansion were packed with people. Uncle Wang, the candied haws seller, carried a manuscript of a poem wrapped in candy wrappers. Old Man Li, the bamboo basket weaver, clutched a broken brush. Even the old beggar, leaning on a crooked bamboo stick, leaned on a crooked bamboo board. The most outrageous of all was Uncle Zhao, the night watchman. He held a broken clapper in his arms and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Miss! I have a poem: 'I beat the night watch until dawn, and hear Liu humming. I light the lamp and count the silver, and I'm a pauper!'"
Chen Weiwan sat on the stone bench, clapping her hands in admiration. The sour plum soup in her teacup was rimmed with gold. "Excellent! Uncle Zhao's rhymes are smoother than those old scholars in the Hanlin Academy! I'll give you a first prize tomorrow, and you can have three jars of sour plum soup!"
It was bustling like a temple fair when a muffled voice suddenly emerged from the shadows of the grape trellis: "I...I want to join the society, too."
Everyone turned around to see a scholar in a washed-out gray gown huddled in a corner, a sycamore leaf stained the corner of his shirt. He was clutching a palm-sized leaf, his knuckles white, and on it, scribbled words in charcoal:
"I woke up at noon and suddenly saw the shadow of a beautiful woman.
I wanted to invite you to breakfast, but I realized I didn't bring any money.
Shen Weiwan raised her eyebrows and tapped her folding fan on her palm: "Sir, your poem... is quite realistic. Have you been hungry for a few days?"
The scholar's face flushed, even his earlobes were pink, and he stammered, "I... I was passing by and saw a notice... saying that joining the club was free..."
Chun Tao quietly tugged at Shen Weiwan's sleeve and lowered her voice: "Miss, this man looks familiar. When I saw His Royal Highness the Seventh Prince wearing his casual clothes at the palace gate yesterday, he had those same hooked eyes when he looked at people!"
"Shh!" Shen Weiwan covered her mouth with the fan and deliberately raised her voice, "You can join the club! First, submit ten limericks. The theme... write 'One Hundred Misery of Not Having Money to Eat'! If you can't write, go to the kitchen to help pay for the club fee!"
The scholar nodded repeatedly as if he had been pardoned, and the tail of his long gown flew up as he turned and ran. Chun Tao stared at his back and blinked: "Miss, did you really know it was the Seventh Prince?"
Shen Weiwan waved her fan and looked at the poem on the leaf, trying not to laugh: "Who else could he see besides me when he said 'suddenly saw a beautiful woman'?"
That night, in the Seventh Prince's study, Xiao Yu sighed deeply at the sycamore leaf on his desk. Mo Shu, clutching his inkstone, stifled laughter until his shoulders shook. "Your Highness, your description of 'discovering I didn't bring any silver' is so down-to-earth. If Miss Shen knew it was you..."
"Shut up!" Xiao Yu rolled the leaf into a ball, then spread it out and smoothed it out with heartache, "I'm just... just experiencing the suffering of the people!" He thought of Shen Weiwan's mischievous eyes during the day, and the tips of his ears turned red unconsciously.
Three days later, at 5 p.m., the Crooked Poetry Society held its first gathering. Shen Weiwan sat in the main seat under the grape trellis, watching the members scramble to hand in their "homework," laughing uncontrollably.
Uncle Wang clapped his hands on the candied haws and sang, "Candied haws, sweet and round, a gentle smile worth a thousand coins. Seventh Prince, shameless! You come here three times a day and drink eighteen bowls of sour plum soup!"
The old beggar clapped his hands to the beat of time, leaning on a bamboo clapper: "Clap the clappers, ding-dong! A dragon crouches in the crooked poetry society. The young lady is clever and beautiful, and the prince chases her, calling her 'Wan-wan', his face flushed and his neck thickened!"
Zhang Erge, carrying a basket of tofu, shouted, "The tofu is white, the young lady is pretty, the prince is setting off firecrackers when proposing marriage. Liu is crying, Ruorou is screaming, the people of the capital are laughing, and the tofu is selling for sweeter than honey!"
Shen Weiwan laughed so hard that she slapped her thigh. Suddenly, she saw the "scholar" in the corner handing her a new leaf with the words written on it:
"I woke up in the morning wanting to write poetry, but inspiration came late.
When I asked you what you were thinking about, you said you were hungry and wanted to eat pears.
"Puff—" Chen Weiwan sprayed a mouthful of sour plum soup on the fan, pointed at Ye Zi and laughed until she fell down: "This young man, are you a hungry wolf? You had no money to eat the day before yesterday, and today you want to eat pears?"
The scholar hugged his sleeves and muttered quietly: "I... I'm really hungry... I didn't get the pear syrup candy made by the imperial kitchen yesterday..."
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