Chapter Nine: Searching a Thousand Times Amidst the Crowd

“Oh! This money was borrowed from Brother Guan!”
At this, Li Yi interjected from the side, “That’s right! Earlier I saw Li Chen looking troubled, so I asked him what was wrong. He said he owed a great favor to a young lady, but had no money to repay her. So I gave him ten taels of silver, and he almost had to sell himself to me for it!”
“What? This is money you nearly sold yourself for; I can’t take it. Brother, you should have it back!” Li Zixuan, kindhearted by nature, grew anxious the moment she learned Jiang Lichen had nearly sold himself for her sake.
“Enough! Do you take me for a trafficker of people? This is at least a token of Lichen’s goodwill—just accept it!”
Hearing this, Li Zixuan realized Li Yi was teasing. She glanced at Jiang Lichen, then silently accepted the money. Noticing how Jiang Lichen sat in silence, his head bowed, she found herself asking almost against her will, “Are you healed yet?”
It was as though Jiang Lichen had been waiting for her to speak. The moment Li Zixuan asked, he replied quickly, “Yes!” Then, as if realizing he’d answered too eagerly, he stammered, “Ah, I mean, I’m much better!”
Their eyes met for an instant, and both blushed, looking away at the same time.
Li Yi, seeing this, sensed an opportunity and cut in, “Xueyan, weren’t you asking for a gift? Come over here. I’ve got something for you! Lichen, Zixuan, you two chat for a bit.”
Li Xueyan, though unsure why Li Yi wanted to move aside, agreed at once at the mention of a gift—and the chance to be alone with him.
Li Yi took Li Xueyan aside, and as they passed Jiang Lichen, he discreetly pressed a jasmine-scented perfume flask into his hand, whispering, “A gift! Sprinkle it on yourself.”
Jiang Lichen pondered for a moment, then broke into a smile and nodded in understanding.
Li Yi led Li Xueyan to a corner, and she immediately pressed, “Brother, what’s the gift? Let me see!”
“Hold on, before I show you, tell me—do you think there’s something between those two?”
“What do you mean, ‘something’? Oh! Are you saying…?”
“Yes! Here’s how it happened…” Li Yi then recounted the events of the evening to Li Xueyan.
“What? Brother Wenyong, is that really alright? You’ve only just met him tonight, and you’re already pushing him toward Sister Zixuan. Isn’t that too hasty?”
“Hasty? Didn’t we just meet yesterday ourselves? Besides, I may have only just met Lichen, but those two have known each other for a whole month. Whether anything comes of it depends on them.”

“Brother Wenyong, what did you mean just now by ‘we ourselves only met yesterday’?”
At this, Li Yi tapped her lightly on the head, “What on earth do you think about all day? Are these the things a thirteen-year-old girl should concern herself with?”
“I’m not that young! Other girls are married at thirteen!”
“Oh?”
“Hmph! All you do is glare at me! Where’s my gift?”
“Ahem, I promised you something unique, and I won’t go back on my word. Here! I invented this myself. I call it ‘perfume’. Spray it on and it’ll keep you fragrant all day.” As Li Yi spoke, he handed her a lavender-scented perfume.
Li Xueyan instantly took the bottle, opened it, and breathed in, immediately intoxicated by its scent. There’s truth to the saying: perfume is a woman’s best friend, cure-all, and constant companion. These are the three great loves of women—and three powerful weapons to win their favor.
“Wow, Brother Wenyong, you made this yourself? It smells so wonderful! You’re amazing!” she exclaimed, sprinkling a bit on herself as she spoke.
“As long as you like it!”
Li Xueyan nodded enthusiastically.
Just then, a voice rang out from the center of the third floor, “Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please! Tonight is the Lantern Festival, and we are honored by the presence of so many talented guests. To liven things up, our humble establishment offers a challenge: using ‘lantern festival’ as the theme, please compose a poem, song, or any literary piece, style and form unrestricted. The best entry will be inscribed on our wall and its author awarded ten taels of silver, a small token of our appreciation. What say you?”
It was the proprietor speaking, and this suggestion was a win-win. The guests could win fame, for here were either true scholars and beauties or scions of nobility, and to take first place at such a gathering was no mere show of talent—it was the path to renown. Yibin Pavilion was the largest restaurant in Luoyang, drawing talented men and women from all over the land every year. To have one’s work inscribed here was to be known throughout the world. As for the ten taels spent by the restaurant, the resulting publicity was worth far more; this place could become a gathering spot for the literati.
The proprietor’s proposal was met with a round of applause. Talented guests immediately set to work, composing verses and songs, though true masterpieces were rare.
Li Yi was enjoying the spectacle when a voice, sinister and cold, sounded: “Cousin, what are you doing here? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
Li Xueyan’s expression grew frosty at the sight of the newcomer. “Oh, Cousin, I’m here with my friends. Is there something you need?”
“Oh? What friends? I don’t believe I’ve met them! Perhaps you’ll introduce us?” The man’s gaze fell on Li Yi.
Li Yi felt uneasy. He was sure he’d never met this man before, yet the hostility radiating from him was palpable. At first, Li Yi suspected it had to do with Li Xueyan, but the man’s eyes showed not a trace of warmth or desire—if anything, there was a faint disgust. Li Yi was thoroughly puzzled.
But Li Xueyan was not. She only wanted this bothersome fly gone. She quickly said, “This is my friend Li Wenyong. Wenyong, this is Li Ye, third son of the Prefect of Luzhou, Li Zihao.” Her tone revealed her indifference, and by calling Li Yi “Wenyong” rather than “Brother Wenyong,” she hoped to spare him trouble, sensing the animosity Li Zihao felt toward him. Though usually carefree, this showed her inner discernment and delicacy.

Li Yi exchanged a knowing smile with Li Xueyan, and she returned a look that spoke volumes. Li Zihao, watching from the side, burned with anger. He had long considered Li Xueyan his personal possession. Though he felt not the slightest affection for her, for his plans he must have her, even if it meant resorting to unsavory means. Now, however, this unknown youth stood in his way, stirring murderous thoughts in his heart.
Li Zihao lowered his head in thought, then raised his voice, “So, it’s the famed scholar Li! Since Brother Li Yi dares to call himself the greatest talent under heaven, surely you have some literary skill. Why not display it here for us all?” He drew all eyes to their corner.
Li Yi instantly sensed trouble. Li Zihao’s words were venomous—he had never claimed to be the greatest talent, but if he denied it now, he would seem to admit defeat and become a laughingstock. But if he agreed to compose a poem, no matter how accomplished his work, he would come across as arrogant. After all, to publicly claim to be the best is a provocation in itself. No matter how he responded, Li Zihao would achieve his aim and leave unscathed—a ruthless move. Yet Li Yi found it baffling; he and Li Zihao had no prior dealings. Even if it was for Li Xueyan’s sake, this was excessive. Still, what had happened had happened, and his only choice was to deal with the situation. Either he had unwittingly obstructed a vital scheme of Li Zihao’s, or this man was a mad dog, but whichever the case, it was not the time to dwell on it.
Li Xueyan, beside him, flushed with anger. Though she couldn’t grasp all the details, she felt Li Yi was in a precarious spot. She wanted to defend him but didn’t know what to say, and tears welled in her eyes.
Li Yi pondered for a moment, then smiled gently. He walked over to Li Xueyan, squeezed her hand to reassure her, then stopped Jiang Lichen, who looked ready to act, with a calming gesture. At last, Li Yi strode confidently to the center of the third floor, stopped by a table, and, standing tall, announced, “I am Li Yi, styled Wenyong. I thank Young Master Li Zihao for bestowing upon me the title of ‘the greatest talent under heaven’—a compliment I do not deserve, for there are many gifted souls present. Yet tonight, at this Lantern Festival, we are gathered in joy, and Young Master Li has given me such honor. I can only attempt to oblige, and beg your indulgence!”
His words distanced himself from the claim of being the greatest scholar, shifting responsibility to Li Zihao, since no one had actually heard Li Yi boast so. By agreeing to compose before all, he showed no fear, and though he could not entirely dispel the impression, he eased the tension. But whether this would suffice would depend on his verse—for in the end, skill must speak for itself.
Li Yi picked up the brush and began to write, not employing any advanced calligraphy, for his foundation was still shallow and it would not do to stand out too much. As he penned each line, the proprietor read them aloud:
“East wind at night, a thousand trees burst into bloom.
And blows down stars, like rain.
Fine steeds, engraved carriages, scents fill the way.
Phoenix flutes sound, jade lamps revolve,
All night, fish and dragons dance.
Moth brows, snow willows, golden threads.
Soft laughter, subtle fragrance fading.
I have searched for her a thousand times in the crowd.
Suddenly I turn, and there she is,
Where the lights are dimmest.”
Li Yi finished the poem in one sweep. The proprietor completed his reading, and for a moment, silence reigned. Then came a collective gasp, followed by thunderous applause.
“What a poem! What a poem indeed! ‘I have searched for her a thousand times in the crowd. Suddenly I turn, and there she is, where the lights are dimmest.’ That line alone will echo through the ages!”
“Who is this Li Yi, styled Wenyong? Unknown by reputation, yet able to compose such a masterpiece impromptu—he is a young hero indeed!”
“Indeed! This poem is surely the best tonight. He is truly worthy of the title ‘scholar’!”
Li Yi, though pleased by the praise, managed to keep his composure. But in the distance, Li Xueyan could not restrain herself, clapping and cheering regardless of decorum, her hands reddening from the force. She was both astonished and proud of Li Yi’s talent, as if she had written the poem herself. Especially that line—‘I have searched for her a thousand times in the crowd. Suddenly I turn, and there she is, where the lights are dimmest.’ She seemed to sense a hidden meaning behind the words.
With everyone’s approval, the proprietor declared Li Yi’s “Green Jade Table: Lantern Night” the winner, and invited Li Yi to inscribe it on the wall. Though Li Yi had not wished to attract such attention, to refuse now would seem insincere, so he picked up the brush and went to the wall.
He had only written two characters when a discordant voice rang out, “Who’s to say he didn’t have someone else write it for him? Just wait—he’ll be exposed before everyone tonight! Look at those fine clothes—he’s probably a noble’s son. It’s easy to hire someone to write a poem if you’ve got money!”