In Xie Jing’s memory, for a considerable period of time, Lu Lingcong’s gaze would not fall upon him—it wasn’t that it would fall upon someone else, but all in all, he did not possess the ability to constantly hold the attention of His Highness Prince Zhao back then.
The first time Lu Lingcong saw Xie Jing was in the capital premier Qinhuai Chun—because the Peony Swallow Dish lacked an ingredient; Young Master Xie raised his hands without a word and flipped the entire table.
The eating house owner and a group of waiters stood stiffly to the side with their heads lowered, and their mouths shut, not daring to breathe at all. The Peony Swallow Dish came from Henan cuisine and was the opening course of the famous “Luoyang Water Feast”. The chef at Qinhuai Chun had rushed to learn it just to serve the esteemed guest, so mistakes were almost unavoidable.
It was just that the esteemed guest did not appreciate this gesture at all. The table loaded with delicate small dishes and white porcelain bowls and plates, along with the freshly opened Meishan Snow Liquor, was smashed without mercy, leaving the floor in complete mess as the fragrance from the pot burst out and quickly seeped into everyone’s nose.
As Lu Lingcong stepped onto the second floor, he caught sight only of a tall, slender figure in a thin vermilion outer robe, with black hair flowing down like a waterfall and not yet bound by a cap. His waist looked slim enough to wrap his hand around, still very much the build of a youth, and it was impossible to imagine where that kind of strength came from.
He casually asked the waiter that guided him, “Which family is he from?”
The waiter was obviously overwhelmed and couldn’t say anything outright, so he could only murmur, “Your Highness still doesn’t recognize him? That person is…”
His face tightened with worry as he lowered his voice and silently mouthed the character “Xie.”
Even if Lu Lingcong was completely impatient with the “pettiness and fussiness of scholars,” he ought to have recognized this surname.
The Spring Imperial Examination had just ended, and rumors spread that beneath that day’s Apricot List, many ambitious top candidates were stunned to see “Xie Jing” listed as the top graduate of the metropolitan examination. Not just in Jinling City, even searching through cultural centers like Gusu and Qiantang, no one of that name could be found. It was only later that someone mentioned the surname, brought up Xie Yi, the then Right Remonstrator, and revealed that he was originally Imperial Censor Xie’s second son, raised in his hometown Chenliu since childhood, and had only come to the capital to take the exam this spring.
Upon a closer inquiry, this Young Master Xie, who had claimed both the top graduate of the provincial examination and the top graduate of the metropolitan examination, was only sixteen years old.
There was astonishment, there was praise, and there was also envy. Later, it was unknown which interested party circulated his recent work, [Ode to the West River], and only then did all the critics fall silent.
Jinling, lying between the river and the lake, has always been a hub for land and water travel and a place for contemplating the past. Yet, although the scenery appeared the same, the feeling within was different. The literati who had spent decades in the capital could not understand the deep emotions of this young man who was from another place, yet his brushwork was bold and grand, seeming to have a continuous, thousand-year-long residual resentment and sorrow buried deep in his bones and blood. Beyond being stunned by the brilliance, everyone was full of admiration.
And the fine reputation of “The Foremost Talent of Jiangbiao” began to circulate at that time.
For a time, these two words echoed like thunder in the capital scholarly circles; many influential families watched eagerly, seizing the chance to make his acquaintance, as if they had already found their ideal future son-in-law.
Who would have imagined that that Xie person from the Xie family was neither modest nor low-profile? Not only did he not show any pleasant expression, but he also treated everyone coldly, leaving all visiting officials and nobles completely embarrassed.
After returning, rumors and gossip started up again. Unable to fault his literary talent, they turned to criticizing his character: some claimed he was oddly arrogant and condescending, Others lamented that the Xie family had long been high officials, and that both Censor Xie and his eldest son were humble and courteous, so how could they have raised such an unruly, overbearing, and ungrateful person?
But no matter how the rumors passed through him, this Young Master Xie remained completely unperturbed, continuing to act as he pleased, difficult for even his father and elder brother to restrain. And out of fear of the Xie family’s power and his talent, no one in the capital dared to provoke him.
The owner of Qinhuai Chun, having unwittingly angered this young master today, had been completely anxious and unsure how to make amends, when in an instant, he caught sight of that famous cash-tree of Jinling City—His Highness Prince Zhao leaned casually by the stairwell, watching the scene with sharp interest.
The owner was overjoyed at the sight of a savior, thinking that for every foot of virtue, the devil has ten more; gods should contend with gods, and it was best to have this little highness handle the mess.
Thinking this, he rushed over with a tearful face, continuously bowing and saying,
“Your High—”
Before the two words “Your Highness” could be uttered, Lu Lingcong’s sharp eyebrows twitched slightly, and a chilling glance darted towards his face. How clever and perceptive the owner was; he instantly grasped the meaning and swiftly changed his words, saying:
“Esteemed customer, please forgive this humble one; I absolutely did not intend to be negligent, but as you can see, I truly cannot spare the time…”
Lu Lingcong was, after all, a frequent guest; Qinhuai Chun always had a ready private room and fine wine prepared for his visit at any time. The owner’s pleading gaze was too intense to ignore, so with a smile that was seven-part percent warmth and third-part mockery, he spoke to the owner casually, in a voice neither too loud nor too soft:
“No problem, this young lady’s[mfn]This phrase is being playfully or mistakenly used to refer to a beautiful, delicate man as a “young lady.”[/mfn] demeanor is truly a bit too terrifying.”
The owner was taken aback, closed his eyes in helplessness as he muttered a few Buddhist phrases silently, and thought to himself, This is what you’ve brought on yourself.
Hearing this, “this young lady” slowly turned around; the jade-like figure, draped in red, was slender and graceful, strikingly beautiful to the point of sharpness—but clearly not someone who could be mistaken for a young lady.
Prince Zhao, who never missed a chance for a show, then stretched his tone and drawled dramatically, “Oh—”
“You’re not even a young lady, so how is your temper even bigger than one?”
Hearing this, the owner was completely flustered, thinking to himself that all his years as a businessman had been wasted; he must have been foolish to expect help from this teenage boy. If they traded a few more harsh words and ended up fighting right then and there, that would be asking for trouble.
Fortunately, gentlemen settle matters with words, not fists, and Young Master Xie scorned even speaking; with a flick of his wrist, sent a silver pouch flying over his shoulder, which drew an arc and landed securely in the hand of the waiter behind him. Judging by weight, it was definitely more, not less.
Though the table had been overturned, he didn’t stiff the bill, so the owner had no room to complain. Seeing Xie Jing lift his foot to leave, he quickly stepped aside.
Thus, Lu Lingcong was the only one left at the stairwell; being tall with long legs, he stood there boldly and blocked half the passage.
Young Master Xie, however, didn’t bother to cast even a hint of warmth, probably because he was new to the capital and didn’t recognize Prince Zhao. Although he condescended to speak, what he said was truly unpleasant:
“Move aside.”
Since childhood, his birth mother, Lady Wu, had warned Lu Lingcong to be careful in word and deed; accepting this favor from the Qinhuai Chun owner today was already a transgression, so fearing a later scolding, he said nothing, stepped aside with a gesture of “Please,” and watched this plague god[mfn]It refers to troublemakers.[/mfn] walk straight downstairs.
Being a young man after all, Lu Lingcong quietly took note of this—who in the capital didn’t offer him a forced smile and a few polite words? Those young nobles and princes were even more deferential to him; His Highness Prince Zhao could command a hundred responses, yet when had he ever faced such an offense?
However, even he hadn’t expected that fate would favor him, usually unlucky as he was, this once it allowed him to regain the upper hand quickly.
With just over a month between the Palace Examination and the Metropolitan Examination, the many dignitaries who had been snubbed eagerly eyed the golden list, hoping that anyone, just not Xie Jing, would place in the top three[mfn]In case it’s confusing, so he has already topped the Metropolitan Examination and this result is for the Palace Examination.[/mfn].
Although the successful candidates were nominally the “Emperor’s disciples,” the current Emperor favored martial arts and had little attainment in literary compositions, poetry, or books, so he still had ministers assisting him and reviewing the papers together.
However, the great contemporary Confucian scholar, Grand Tutor Zhang Yan, despite being old and having poor eyesight, spotted a treasure among the dozens of copied examination papers with a single glance.
Originally, this group of scholars had studied diligently for ten years, but their policy proposals were ultimately just theoretical debates based on ancient texts; what real understanding could they possess? But Grand Tutor Zhang was indeed worthy of his title; others reviewed the papers as tasks, but he reviewed them as people.
The old man held that thin sheet of paper, read it carefully over and over at least ten times, then walked tremblingly before the emperor to present it, stating eight characters:
“A scholar’s physique, with a general’s mind.”
When he peeled back the sealed name paper, it was, as expected, still the two characters: “Xie Jing.” There was no dispute in the court either; firstly, the child’s talent was obvious to everyone, and secondly, Zhang Yan was upright and had no relationship with Xie Yi beyond being colleagues, leaving no room for fraud or favoritism.
In fact, the rule requiring Palace Examination papers to be rewritten and reviewed, though ancient, hadn’t been truly applied for many years. The reason was simple: all the candidates wrote in the balanced, standardized court style, making them so conventional that it was nearly impossible to tell them apart.
But this year brought the audacious Xie Jing, who’s flowing Quoxia style had already become wildly popular in half the capital thanks to [Ode to the West River]; even in the Palace Examination, he didn’t alter his style at all. The invigilators had no choice but to follow the old system and ask scribes to copy all the papers again before covering the names and submitting them.
It was fine when the name was unknown, but knowing the name presented a problem—appointing him as third-ranked would diminish his talent but appointing him first-ranked would waste his good looks.
Finally, the Emperor made the ultimate decision, declaring that in nearly a century since Emperors Taizong and Gaozong, no one had ever achieved the “Triple Crown[mfn]Top in provincial, metropolitan, and palace exams.[/mfn]”, and this boy, who had just turned sixteen, could be considered a genius born only once in an age and was naturally worthy of the first-ranked title.
Lu Lingcong saw Xie Jing for the second time just a few days after the Palace Examination results were announced. He had just finished paying his respects to Lady Wu and was preparing to return to his mansion when he ran into the newly successful top scholar candidates entering the palace in a long procession along the Yongxiang lane to attend the Qionglin Feast.
Xie Jing walked at the very front with his eyes fixed straight ahead while cladding in a crimson silk round-collar robe, his long hair tied high with only a few strands at his temples. The boy in official court attire didn’t seem overly mature; rather, it accentuated his straight, slender frame, making him strikingly handsome and commanding.
Lu Lingcong had only two attendants; the straight road made it impossible to avoid the encounter, and he came face-to-face with the group. At the front was Zhong Zhao, the chief eunuch serving the emperor, who, upon seeing Lu Lingcong, quickly bowed and said, “Greetings, Your Highness.”
Although Xie Jing hadn’t looked directly at Lu Lingcong the last time at Qinhuai Chun, their eyes met the instant he turned around at the “this young lady” comment. With eyes like Prince Zhao’s, expecting Xie Jing to forget him immediately was truly asking too much.
Thus, he paused for a moment when he saw Lu Lingcong approaching and was even more slightly startled when he heard Zhong Zhao call out “Your Highness.” Young Master Xie was talented and bold; it wasn’t that he feared offending anyone, but he found quarrels with imperial nobles extremely troublesome.
So, when Lu Lingcong approached and stopped, Xie Jing hesitated only for a moment before bowing deeply. Under the astonished eyes of the candidates behind him, he calmly said, “For having offended Your Highness the other day, I ask that Your Highness Prince Zhao impose whatever punishment you deem fit.”
Xie Jing’s voluntary lowering of his stance was a rare sight, one not seen in a hundred years. But what surprised the onlookers even more was yet to come—
Prince Zhao, who always enjoyed mingling with the common people and getting close to the populace, neither declared Xie Jing guilty nor offered forgiveness; instead, a smile lingered on his lips. He looked Xie Jing up and down, and without acknowledging his bow, he simply stepped forward and walked straight past him, leaving without another word.
It was clear that he would not accept the bow, publicly shaming him.
Anyone presents with a bit of sense had already linked this slightly awkward scene with the widely rumored “commotion” at Qinhuai Chun. In less than half a day, it was common knowledge throughout the capital that His Highness Prince Zhao and the newly appointed top scholar had become rivals.
The emperor did not dispatch the top scholar to an official post outside the capital but instead conferred upon him the post of Compiler, giving him a name at the Hanlin Academy. But anyone with an eye for politics could see that the Hanlin Compiler position was merely a steppingstone; with his father and elder brother in the court and the appreciation of Grand Tutor Zhang, even if his youthful arrogance was a temporary thing, his future official career was bound to be smooth sailing.
Meanwhile, the renowned scholars and literati of Jinling also quietly and unconsciously split into two factions. One faction was naturally the staunch supporters of Lu Lingcong, catering to the preference of His Highness Prince Zhao, mostly composed of military men, and all of them were native-born local powers in the capital; the other faction consisted mainly of scholars from other provinces, who had no roots or reliance in Jinling and spontaneously gathered around Young Master Xie without any deliberate call—even though he remained aloof and showed no pleasantries to anyone.
When young men gather, they always enjoy competing in words. Outsiders called the capital natives crude and simple-minded, while the locals retorted that the outsiders were poor, pedantic scholars pretending to be refined. The exchange left the atmosphere tense and charged.
In fact, neither Lu Lingcong nor Xie Jing had ever directly expressed their dislike for the other party in public.
Xie Jing was new to the capital and still young, unaware of and insensitive to the current affairs and social networks at the emperor’s feet. He only knew that Prince Zhao’s birth mother, Lady Wu, came from a humble merchant family, and that Lu Lingcong had enjoyed riding and archery since childhood, showed no interest in politics, and had never overstepped his bounds.
In Lu Lingcong’s eyes, Xie Jing was simply a talented young dandy who had never experienced setbacks or hardships, having been pampered since he was young. However, his Jinling-refined accent, carrying a hint of the Jiangbei region, with a clear voice and a touch of softness mingled with his arrogance, left a deep impression on Lu Lingcong and was quite amusing to hear.
Originally, aside from that single moment of mutual disrespect, they had little interaction; now, thanks to meddling busybodies, it was made to appear as if they were entirely incompatible and in direct conflict.
However, it should be noted that these “busybody” girls were very different from the boys. Only a few months ago, private conversations in the boudoirs centered on the handsome and dignified His Highness Prince Zhao, but within just a few dozen days, many had shifted their attention to Young Master Xie, this elegant and talented figure.
The true “young ladies” of the capital were both talented and beautiful, and certainly sharp-witted; in just a few words, they coined the elegant term “Twin Jades of Jade Terrace.” Privately, whether the two actually disliked each other or were merely pretending, people simply hoped to see these two perfect individuals appear together again, just to feast their eyes.
However, before the young ladies could use family social events as an excuse to catch a glimpse of Top Scholar Xie’s noble and handsome appearance, an imperial decree that shook the entire capital region put an end to the hopes of everyone attempting to invite the two to the same banquet.
The current Emperor personally issued the decree, granting the top scholar a marriage that could not be more “honorable for the family name”—
He assigned Xie Jing to his illegitimate eldest son, Prince Zhao, Lu Lingcong.
