Chapter Fifty-Six: The Hu Dance and the Hu Poem

A servant immediately brought up the bamboo basket filled with coins, but before the five men in foreign attire could thank their host and withdraw, a voice rose from the side.

"Such a splendid dance tonight! Among all the gentlemen present, who can compose a poem to add further brilliance to this grand feast?"

The sudden remark brought the hall to silence. The speaker, who sat with legs crossed and an air of leisure, was none other than Jiang Du, son of Duke Jiang Jiao of Chu. Many in attendance began to speculate inwardly. It was known that Duke Jiang Jiao had been closest to the Emperor during his humble days, and since the ascension, had been greatly favored—not only ennobled as Duke of Chu but always present at imperial banquets, with the Emperor even affectionately calling him "Jiang Seven." In comparison, though Dou Xiguan was the Emperor’s uncle, he could not match such intimacy.

Was it possible that these two families were about to compete, and Jiang Du, having failed once, now tried another stratagem?

Contrary to expectation, Jiang Du, faced with everyone's attention, smiled graciously and nodded, saying, "Don't look to me, gentlemen; this idea was not mine. It was entirely proposed by the gentleman behind me, Liu Ximing. I found it appealing, so I called out. Whoever wins tonight’s prize will ensure that the dance Dou Shilang so painstakingly prepared does not go to waste."

At these words, all eyes naturally fell upon the young man behind Jiang Du, whose features were as refined as jade. Du Shiyi was no exception. He had entered with his head held high, performed a new tune on the lute, and recognizing a few familiar faces, had not paid much attention to others. Only now did he realize that the man behind Jiang Du was Liu Ximing, whom he had not seen since leaving the mountain at the end of the previous year.

Though it was common for students at the Lu Estate to depart and never return, it was rare for one to leave with a recommendation and disappear after only a few months, especially as Cui Jianxuan and Pei Ning had sent letters, while Liu Ximing had not even left a word. Lu Hong had been deeply concerned, and only when other students from Chang’an returned and assured him Liu Ximing was well did Lu Hong feel at ease. Yet unexpectedly, Du Shiyi encountered his old acquaintance here tonight!

Thus, with Liu Ximing now thrust into the spotlight by Jiang Du, he became the focus of all. He raised his wine cup, smiling wryly, and drank deeply. The next moment, he rose, his eyes gleaming with a sharp intensity, and walked directly toward Du Shiyi.

"Gentlemen, you are all esteemed figures in the world of letters. Tonight, I happened upon this gathering, and the earlier performance of the Hu-Teng dance delighted me so much that I proposed this challenge to Jiang Shilang. Moreover, tonight marks the first return of Du Shiyi of Fanchuan after his recovery, and he won praise with a new tune on the lute. He has studied the lute for barely a year, yet his poetry has been renowned in Fanchuan since childhood. I wonder if he can produce a fine poem tonight to enhance Duke Dou’s banquet?”

His words, winding as they were, ultimately pointed again at Du Shiyi. Unless one was truly oblivious, everyone sensed the underlying meaning. Even Wang Shilang, seeing the focus shift to Du Shiyi, could not help but ask in a low voice, “Does Liu Shilang have a grudge with you?”

“Though we have some differences, we are fellow disciples,” Du Shiyi replied casually. Seeing Wang Shilang frown deeply, he stood as well, still holding his delicate white porcelain cup, and said with a smile, “So it’s Senior Liu. Forgive me for repeating myself, but truly, life is full of unexpected reunions. When you left at the end of last year and vanished without a word, Master Lu was deeply worried. Had it not been for returning students from Chang’an assuring us of your well-being, Master Lu would have been anxious day and night. Now, seeing you even more distinguished than before, I am relieved. I will inform Master Lu upon my return, so he may rest easy.”

As soon as he finished, Jiang Du, giving Liu Ximing no face, burst out laughing. Others, understanding the subtlety, joined in unabashed laughter. Amid these jeers, Liu Ximing’s pale face flushed dark, his hand clenched in his sleeve, nails biting into flesh, ignoring the pain. In this mortifying atmosphere, he struggled to remain composed, raising his chin and repeating, “Does Du Shiyi still possess his poetic skill?”

The remarks made earlier during Du Shiyi’s lute performance had not escaped Wang Shilang’s notice. Seeing Liu Ximing still refusing to let go, he frowned and called out, “Du Shiyi is already half drunk thanks to me—let me compose the poem for him!”

No sooner had he spoken than he felt a hand on his shoulder, halting his motion to rise. Looking up, he saw Du Shiyi smiling and shaking his head, then heard him say, “Brother Wang, you are a friend indeed!”

Continuing, Du Shiyi turned to the fiery-eyed Liu Ximing and called out, "Bring wine, bring paper and brush!"

Dou Xiguan, seeing Jiang Du was merely a spectator, relaxed. So long as Duke Jiang Jiao was not intent on rivalry, poetic contests or banter among others mattered little to him. He stretched comfortably on his seat, leaving Dou Shilang to signal the servants to act as Du Shiyi requested.

For the other guests, whether they knew Du Shiyi or not, tonight’s banquet, full of twists and turns, would surely provide excellent gossip later. Soon, a beautiful maid approached, holding a tall agate horn cup filled with amber wine for Du Shiyi. Two maids unrolled paper at either side, another prepared ink, and someone called out, “Quick, play music again to inspire Du Shiyi!”

As the four musicians in foreign dress came to their senses, they began to play. Du Shiyi sat cross-legged, left hand holding the cup, right hand taking up the brush, and began to write swiftly. Wang Shilang, standing behind him, started to recite loudly:

"Rarely seen are the children of Stone Country’s Hu,
Their squat dance before the wine flows swift as birds.
Woven hats of foreign make with tips high and hollow,
Fine woolen shirts and sleeves cut short."

After four lines, the hall buzzed with discussion, voices commenting on the verses. Du Shiyi drank deeply from the horn cup, then continued writing, and Wang Shilang recited:

"Wine cups tossed in their hands, grapes from afar,
Looking west, thoughts of home stretch distant.
Leaping, whirling, belts jingling bright,
Feet flashing in soft brocade boots."

With another four lines, the chatter faded, replaced by murmured repetition of the eight verses. Some ignored the poetry and wine, instead watching Liu Ximing’s face darken with schadenfreude. The most exaggerated was Jiang Du, who turned to Liu Shilang, half-smiling, and said, “Liu Shilang, do you find Du Shiyi’s poem adequate?”

Du Shiyi, accustomed to drinking over the past two years, found the rice wine bland and weak, lacking strength. Yet tonight, with the fatigue of travel and the strong amber wine in the horn cup far surpassing what he had shared with Wang Shilang earlier, its warmth spread through him. The hall was hot, so he loosened his collar and drained the cup, then wrote the final six lines in one breath:

"All gaze in silence, eyes wide in wonder,
Flutes and lutes urge on from every side.
Whirling across new carpets of snowy-red wool,
Brushing petals beneath red candles.
Wine spent, dance done, the music falls silent,
By the west fence, hibiscus blooms under a waning moon."

"What a line—'Wine spent, dance done, the music falls silent, By the west fence, hibiscus blooms under a waning moon!'"

Wang Shilang, reciting from the beginning, could not help but clap in admiration. The maid gathering the paper saw Du Shiyi had set down the brush, and quickly, with another maid, presented the scroll to Dou Xiguan who unfurled it before him. Though not skilled in the art, Dou Xiguan found the calligraphy spirited and the poem exquisite, titled "Night Watching Hu-Teng Dance at Duke Bi’s Residence." He clapped and laughed, “Wonderful! With this masterpiece, my son’s dance tonight was not in vain. Bring more wine, strike up the music, let us drink to our victory!”

At once, beautiful maids moved among the tables with wine—each cup, though varied, was twice the size of those before, filled with the same amber liquid. Dou Xiguan drank first, and others followed. Soon, he cast his cup down with a flourish, and, to the music, danced himself. Though his steps were awkward and his body plump, the slightly drunken Du Shiyi could discern a touch of Western flair—it was, indeed, another Hu-Teng dance.

Just then, Du Shiyi felt someone sit down heavily beside him. Turning, he saw Dou Shilang, who had earlier arranged for someone else to perform the Hu-Teng dance. Uninhibited, Dou Shilang had a servant bring a tray and utensils, and said bluntly, “If I hadn’t known Wang Shilang was coming tonight, I would have claimed a broken leg and stayed in bed—not even shown my face! Who’d have thought, besides Wang Shilang, someone would play a new tune in public! 'Butterfly Transformation'... I recall someone sent me that book, 'Records of Strange Tales from Ten Directions,' but I don’t remember such a story.”

Dou Shilang’s easy conversation quickly bridged any gap. Du Shiyi smiled and briefly recounted the ancient tale, moving Dou Shilang to sigh. When Dou Shilang asked about Lu Hong, Du Shiyi, emboldened by wine, replied, “Until last year, Master Lu suffered from cataracts, and when I entered his tutelage, I remembered a method from an old family book—the Eight Golden Needle Techniques—which Priest Sun from Songyang Temple used to restore his sight. Even so, he is elderly and accustomed to seclusion, reluctant to enter officialdom. Master Lu always says, those who seek fame by hiding in the mountains disgrace the name of recluse.”

“Well said!” Dou Shilang clapped with laughter, “I detest those who feign purity, claim to be hermits atop some mountain, then rush to official summons faster than anyone! So why did Master Lu come to the Eastern Capital?”

Since Wang Shilang had just mentioned Dou Shilang’s distaste for officialdom and love of music and dance, Du Shiyi pressed further, “Have you heard of the imperial summons sent to Master Lu?”

Dou Shilang shook his head, and Wang Shilang looked intrigued. Du Shiyi recited the letter’s contents, and indeed, both men were shrewd—Wang Shilang sighed, Dou Shilang frowned. After a while, Dou Shilang waved his hand, saying, “Some crave office and never attain it; others shun it, yet receive summons again and again... alas!”

Before he could continue, a rotund figure suddenly appeared before them, calling out, “Shilang, Wang Shilang, Du Shiyi, dare you join me in the dance?”

“My lord, forgive me, my leg cannot dance,” Dou Shilang excused himself. Dou Xiguan, undeterred, laughed and sought others to join, while Dou Shilang slipped out of the hall on pretense.

Wang Shilang, seeing Du Shiyi’s eyes glazed with drunkenness, whispered, “If you have the strength, you should dance with Duke Dou now—he’ll be even more pleased!”

Du Shiyi smiled ruefully, “Do I seem to have any strength left, brother?”

Wang Shilang finally laughed. Looking up, he saw Liu Ximing had left unnoticed, scoffed, and said cheerfully, “If you lack strength, you must use the method I didn’t finish telling you... Tonight, you are the star; if you want to slip away, it won’t be as easy as Liu Shilang managed. If you really wish to escape... you’d better be dead drunk!”

Before he finished, Du Shiyi slumped onto the tray, soon snoring lightly. Wang Shilang, startled, burst out laughing. His laughter drew the attention of all, and an elder called out, “Du Shiyi has just arrived in Luoyang, exhausted from travel and unable to hold his wine—let him be taken to his lodging to rest!”

Dou Xiguan, feeling the feast had been thoroughly enjoyable, waved and said, “Good, someone take Du Shiyi back!”

At that, Wang Shilang stood and smiled, bowing, “If Duke Dou permits, let me escort Du Shiyi myself. Though I remember the tune from earlier, I dare not perform it without his guidance—I’ll have to ask him for the score.”

“Very well, thank you, Wang Shilang!”

As Wang Shilang and two servants helped Du Shiyi from the hall and met Tian Mo outside, a voice called out from behind.

“Wang Shilang, tonight you’ve been thoroughly overshadowed by Du Shiyi!”

Jiang Du passed by, leaving those words, and strode away. Wang Shilang’s carefree demeanor gave way to a rueful smile.

Overshadowed... These years, he had wandered far from home, mingling with powerful families, always in the limelight—yet who knew his inner sorrow?