Zhao Guangyi felt the fingers turning his rosary stiffen slightly.
Part of it was because he could sense his elder brother's gaze resting upon him from time to time. Part of it was because of the question that brother had just asked.
"Perhaps you should try studying Sanskrit as well."
Swallowing, Zhao Guangyi replied carefully, "Even the ordinary Buddhist scriptures I can only read in rough outline. How could I presume to handle Sanskrit texts."
The Emperor of Song seemed thoughtful.
"If among our descendants all excel outside the throne itself, it would be a waste to neglect such talent."
He turned to the still somewhat dazed attendant nearby.
"Tomorrow, gather several Sanskrit scriptures and deliver them to the master."
As for how the monk Kongjiong would react, Zhao Kuangyin no longer concerned himself with it.
He had truly not expected that his eleventh generation descendant would possess such wide talent as to be called the Crown of Yuan Scholars. Nor had he imagined that Zhao Xian, also of his direct line, would one day be rumored to be the reincarnation of the Hongwu Emperor.
The afterglow of Song had extinguished with Wen Tianxiang. Whether one called it the romantic elegance of the Two Songs or the grace of Little Song, it seemed the Zhao bloodline had nevertheless flowed steadily into Ming.
Yet behind that unbroken bloodline, Zhao Kuangyin could not forget other matters. He remembered the founder of Song whose bones were never fully accounted for. He remembered the skull of Emperor Lizong fashioned into a ritual vessel. He remembered the soldiers and civilians who chose to drown themselves at sea. He remembered the men who faced typhoons seeking death rather than submission.
That Zhao descendants served Yuan was understandable, but that a Yuan emperor might handle the skull of an ancestor was something that clogged his chest with bitterness.
After reading Wang Yanwu's Ci poem titled Qinyuanchun, that bitterness began to ferment toward anger. He knew Wang Yanwu had spent his family fortune resisting Yuan and had never held official rank. He had done what he could. Even so, Zhao Kuangyin could not suppress the irritation.
"And this is called Qinyuanchun."
"And why should it not be called Qinyuanchun."
When the discussion turned to poetry, Li Yu, who had just emerged from his earlier gloom, spoke in defense.
That single line, "Most harrowing was the day of hurried farewell at the ancestral temple," was enough for him to taste the likely bitterness of his own future. Yet because his state of mind had already shifted, he did not dwell upon it. Instead he returned again and again to the poem in question, feeling that though later generations disliked it in many ways, judged purely as verse it was finely wrought.
"In the former Tang there were Qinyuanchun compositions, yet their tonal patterns did not fully exploit the possibilities of level and oblique sounds. This later author, though carving and polishing with deliberate intent, surpasses our present yuefu in structural precision."
Zhao Guangyi wished to add something, but recalling what the light screen had revealed, he sighed and kept silent.
Zhao Kuangyin still harbored annoyance.
"Very well. I shall show you this Qinyuanchun. Then tell me whether it deserves the name."
Before long he handed a sheet to Li Yu.
Lowering his eyes, Li Yu found himself seized by the opening line.
"North country scenery, a thousand li sealed in ice, ten thousand li of drifting snow…"
He had never seen the northern landscape, yet the Tang to which he traced cultural allegiance had once subdued the steppe and stationed armies in Liaodong, awing distant realms with northern strength.
As he read on, the heroic sweep and surging momentum struck like imperial cavalry breaking through defenses within his heart. Only at the phrase "exceptionally enchanting" did the onslaught pause. He hurried to the lower stanza, eager to see how such a grand opening would be resolved, how the charging cavalry of his imagination would withdraw and settle into rhyme.
There was no withdrawal and no soft landing.
From "The rivers and mountains so enchanting" onward, the cavalry seemed to launch an even more irresistible charge. Beginning with Qin Huang and Han Wu, the scale that fused history into judgment forced him to look upward in awe. By the final line, the echo of clashing arms still lingered in his ears.
"This…"
Countless evaluations and praises rose within him, yet halted at his throat. In the end he could only smile bitterly.
"This assessment of Qinyuanchun is not something I could accomplish."
He added sincerely, "If I could compose such a piece, to die at dusk would be…"
He stopped himself. As one skilled in ci poetry, he understood that without achievements capable of standing above Qin Shi Huang, Han Wudi, and Tang Taizong, writing in such a tone would only invite ridicule.
Thus curiosity replaced admiration.
"If this author can look down upon antiquity, why is the Hongwu Emperor not named among them."
Zhao Kuangyin shook his head. He did not know. Observing the dense comments sweeping across the light screen, he hesitated before saying, "If you are curious, wait three months and ask the Hongwu Emperor directly."
"Why not now."
"For I fear that at present the Hongwu Emperor is not in the best of moods."
Though some remarks criticized Zhao Kuangyin himself, they were mild compared to those concerning Hongwu. He even considered writing a few words of consolation.
[Chat Server Log]
[KnightInBeta: Jin, Song, Yuan, Qing—the Four Wonders of China.
Contentish: Actually, if a few Northern Song emperors had better health, history might have changed. Unfortunately, their health was terrible across the board.
WiFiDependent: Besides hereditary diseases, some say it started with Zhao Er and his obsession with Taoism. Song Zhenzong took it further, and later emperors ate alchemical pills like snacks. Compared to the Northern Song, the Ming emperors were amateurs at 'pill-popping.'
ScrollAndSuffer: Speaking of which, even if Zhao Er hadn't taken over, I doubt Zhao Da would have fared better. Have you seen the couplet at Daguan Pavilion in Kunming? 'Han trained the navy, Tang marked the iron pillar, Song waved the jade axe, Yuan crossed with leather bags.' One of these is not like the others...
TrendButLate: Ha! Everyone gets it. Han, Tang, and Yuan all represent expansion into Yunnan. But 'Song waving the jade axe' refers to Zhao Da drawing a line at the Dadu River with his axe and saying, 'Anything beyond this is not mine.' It's enough to make you die of anger.
RatioAvoider: Speaking of the illegitimate child rumors, the Mongols even claimed Judy was a descendant of the Yuan Emperor. If you string it all together... The Song has been restored!
AvoidPing: To be fair, ancient unofficial histories lack imagination. Compared to the 'Gouzi' (Hook) literature about Zhu Yuanzhang, they aren't wild enough.
EmojiFluent: Crap, I had finally deleted 'Gouzi Literature' from my brain. Don't remind me!
CtrlAltDelMe: Speaking of couplets, I remember one about 'dying for the state and guarding the gate' mentioned by the host.
OverThinkr: Who doesn't know that one? 'Baozong (Yingzong) knocked on the gate, Chongzhen sacrificed the state, the civil officials said the water was too cold, the generals became vassal kings.'
NetLurker: Wait, that's the internet version. The real one is: 'Malu Mountain is high, where the rebels died for the state; Lingding Ocean is vast, where the pirates guarded the gate.'
LowBatt: That couplet is a sharp one. But the most painful to read is always: 'Kefa (Shi Kefa) could not find a way (Fa), Kewang (Sun Kewang) could not find hope (Wang). Dingguo (Li Dingguo) could not stabilize the country (Dingguo), Chenggong (Koxinga) could not achieve success (Chenggong).'
Alg0Kid: I remember another: 'Zicheng (Li Zicheng) found it hard to succeed (Zicheng), Xianzhong (Zhang Xianzhong) was never truly loyal (Xianzhong)...' Song's destruction and Ming's fall were, from a certain perspective, quite similar.]