Chapter Thirty-Five: The Prestigious Family, Commanding a Table of Their Own!

In recent days, the three great scholars—Sun Anmin, Qian Yu, and Xu Shi—arrived in Dingxing one after another.

Taking the opportunity, Wen Qingjuan, the patriarch of the Wen family, initiated a literary gathering at Lotus Garden, inviting the three great scholars to lecture in turn and illuminate the path for the learned men of Dingxing.

The simultaneous presence of all three was an event of unparalleled significance in the literary world, drawing a swarm of scholars who were willing to part with great sums for a coveted invitation.

Yet the number of invitations was limited; aside from the truly outstanding, few were able to obtain one.

Such an occasion was rare—once in a decade, if that.

Those who failed to receive invitations were left bitterly disappointed, beating their chests and stamping their feet in regret.

Outside Lotus Garden, the crowd was abuzz, shoulder to shoulder in a sea of anticipation.

Gatekeepers stood watch, and only those bearing an invitation could enter.

Those without stood on tiptoe, craning their necks to watch others enter, their eyes brimming with envy.

Even if they could not step inside, they still longed to bask in the aura of the scholars.

Han Fu squeezed through the throng, handed his invitation to the doorman, who, after verifying its authenticity, allowed him to step inside.

Someone recognized Han Fu, and upon seeing him enter, was filled with astonishment.

"That man who just entered—wasn’t he the son-in-law of the Zhou family?"

Like a stone thrown into a pond, his words stirred up waves of unrest. The crowd grew noisier still.

"A son-in-law can enter Lotus Garden?"

"We are all men of letters, our names may not be renowned, but are we not worthier than a mere son-in-law? Why is he allowed in while we are left to stand outside, withering in the cold?"

"That’s Han Fu, his poetic talent is unrivaled."

"So what? He’s a son-in-law. No matter how gifted, such a man’s status is low and base."

"This is unfair. Are the words of the great scholars to be heard by a son-in-law?"

"Say what you will, but what can you do about it? Are you going to force your way into Lotus Garden and demand an explanation from Elder Wen?"

At these words, silence fell.

There were hundreds unable to enter, all wearing looks of frustration, but powerless to act.

Storm into Lotus Garden and demand an explanation?

What a joke.

The Wen family was a colossus—who would dare offend them lightly?

Among the Eight Great Clans of the Xu Dynasty, their legacy stretched back a thousand years.

Their roots ran so deep that even the Emperor dared not offend them without cause.

The Wen family stood among the Eight, with hundreds of its members holding office—a fearsome power.

Wen Qingjuan, the family patriarch, had once served as Minister of War, now retired and enjoying his twilight years.

Without such a lofty status and towering reputation, how could he have managed to invite all three great scholars at once?

"It’s enough to make one choke with rage."

The crowd was helpless, their indignation bottled with nowhere to go, leaving them stifled and uneasy.

"A bunch of incompetents—what can you do but shout and complain?"

Someone fanned the flames, sparking the crowd’s fury.

They turned to look, spotting a man standing before the gate, fanning himself with his invitation, the picture of ease.

He was eighteen or nineteen, dressed in extravagant, bright garments, strikingly handsome, with a mocking expression as he looked down on the crowd.

"What did you say?"

"We are scholars—how dare you insult us so?"

"Who are you, to speak so disdainfully?"

"What we say is fact—how has it become mere bluster in your mouth?"

"That’s Chen Nanxing."

"Who’s Chen Nanxing?"

"From the Chen family of great merchants, son-in-law to the Marquis of Kui’s granddaughter—a son-in-law just like Han Fu."

"So, a merchant’s son, thinking he’s soared to the heights just by marrying into the Marquis of Kui’s household, dares to scorn us scholars?"

Chen Nanxing had provoked the crowd’s ire, drawing a chorus of rebuke. But he was unbothered and said impatiently, "Enough, enough. You’re all just jealous that even a son-in-law can enter. I detest you self-important scholars who have not an ounce of real ability. Yes, I’m a son-in-law, and I have an invitation. Look, I can go in too—ha!"

Laughing, Chen Nanxing turned and strode into Lotus Garden, no longer sparing the angry stares a glance.

The garden was vast, spanning thirty acres. Within lay a pond filled with lotuses, from which it took its name.

In Dingxing, where land was precious, for the Wen family to possess such a garden and keep it private spoke volumes of their wealth and heritage.

Upon entering, a fresh breeze greeted Han Fu, carrying delicate fragrances that refreshed the spirit.

His vision widened, taking in scenes of breathtaking beauty.

Golden willows shimmered in autumn, their branches hanging in thousands.

Pavilions soared with flying eaves, while lakeside gazebos stretched gracefully.

Alas, it was late in the season, and the pond’s lotuses had faded; only sturdy stalks remained, supporting seedpods that dotted the water.

Some seedpods had been plucked, leaving lone stalks to wither in isolation.

Han Fu walked among the crowd, leisurely admiring the scenery, his steps unhurried.

Baili Mingsu had entered from the east gate, Han Fu from the south. Upon arrival, they parted ways.

Soon, Han Fu reached a wide clearing where rows of low, long wooden tables had been set in orderly fashion—over a hundred in all.

Each table was paired with two round cushions, clearly meant for seated guests.

At the front were two tables placed facing each other.

The Wen family, lavish as ever, had set wine and delicacies on every table—two sets per table.

A literary gathering with fine food and drink—Han Fu could not help but smile, finding it delightful.

The event had yet to begin, and there was no sign of Wen Qingjuan or the three great scholars. Those who had come to listen dared not touch the food or wine, instead seeking seats, either waiting quietly alone or conversing softly with friends.

Han Fu glanced around and soon found an empty table. To avoid having it taken, he went straight to it and sat down to wait.

As time passed, the hall filled; empty seats became rare, and some scoured the area, searching for a place to sit.

"Brother, is this seat taken?" asked a man, approaching Han Fu with a courteous bow.

"No one’s here," Han Fu replied.

The man brightened. "If that’s the case, may I sit here? Would it trouble you?"

Polite and refined, the man was clearly among the elite scholars present.

The custom today was two to a table; Han Fu saw no reason to be overbearing.

"Please, be my guest."

"Many thanks, brother."

The man sat, and, perhaps finding the wait dull, began to converse with Han Fu.

"My name is Xiao Maosheng, a native of Dingxing. Yet you seem unfamiliar to me, may I ask your name?"

"Han Fu," he replied.

"Han Fu?" Xiao Maosheng was taken aback. "Are you the Han Fu who won the Seven Poetry Challenge and married into the Zhou family?"

"I am," Han Fu nodded.

Xiao Maosheng’s expression shifted instantly, his gaze growing distant. After a brief pause, he stood and said, "I just remembered, a friend is waiting for me. Till fate brings us together again."

With that, he left, weaving among the tables in search of another seat.

Han Fu was momentarily surprised, then shook his head and smiled wryly.

The status of a son-in-law truly won little favor. Not only did they shun friendship, they would not even share a table.

Well, so be it—peace and quiet, a table all to himself.

After a while, another approached and inquired. Han Fu simply said, "I am Han Fu, son-in-law to the Zhou family."

The man looked startled, then turned and left.

This happened three more times, and after that, no one else came by.

Han Fu surveyed the room and saw that every seat was taken, two to a table—except for himself.

Or perhaps not—he suddenly noticed, in the southwest corner, another table with only one occupant, who sat with his head propped on his hand, looking utterly bored.

"Ah-ba, ah-ba..." In another spot, Wu Ziyong pointed Han Fu out to his companion.

Zhao Zongsheng said in surprise, "He’s here too?"

Liu Shilin sighed, "No one wants to sit with him. I wonder if, at this moment, he regrets marrying into the Zhou family."