Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 112: Female Scholar
The wind and rain lashed outside Zuijun Tower, while inside, the atmosphere was as charming as peach blossoms.
Zhu Ping’an, drenched like a drowned rat, was pulled into Zuijun Tower by a villager, clutching a broken black wooden board and carrying a cloth bag slung over his shoulder.
At first glance, he saw the scholars and beauties inside the tower chasing each other and laughing. Looking up, he could also see some elegantly dressed women on the upper floors, either sitting alone by the railing or chatting and laughing in small groups. The laughter of the young ladies blended with the sound of silk and bamboo instruments in the air.
Zhu Ping’an, drenched like a drowned rat, was completely out of place in the tower, standing out in stark contrast.
“Oh, who’s this sentimental young master, rushing here in the wind and rain without even an umbrella?”
“Hee hee hee, that’s the sentimental young master, clearly a down-and-out poor scholar…”
“He’s so young and already out playing, who knows if he’s of any use…”
The women on the upper floor, leaning against the railing and gazing into the distance, were the first to spot Zhu Ping’an, drenched like a drowned rat. One by one, they waved their delicate hands, pointing and whispering, and then all of them covered their mouths, letting out a series of silver bell-like laughs.
The young ladies’ laughter drew the attention of others inside the tower. The well-dressed gentlemen glanced at Zhu Ping’an, noting his drenched appearance, the black wooden board under his arm, and his simple clothes. They couldn’t help but laugh. This person dares to come to Zuijun Tower looking like this? He probably doesn’t even have enough for three cups of wine in his pocket! They soon lost interest and resumed discussing life and ideals with the beautiful women in their arms.
The red lanterns and the wine-filled atmosphere reeked of decay.
Zhu Ping’an gently shook his head and followed the villager upstairs. The villager seemed quite anxious, not allowing Zhu Ping’an a moment to catch his breath or squeeze the water out of his clothes, instead pulling him upstairs directly.
The upstairs was another world, decorated with even more charm. The women up there were much more beautiful than those downstairs, and the men upstairs had far better taste.
As soon as Zhu Ping’an arrived upstairs, he heard a voice filled with emotion calling out from a distance:
“Zhi’er, my family’s prized steed, your uncle has been waiting for you for so long!”
Zhu Ping’an looked up and saw his uncle pushing through a crowd of richly dressed people. Upon seeing Zhu Ping’an, his uncle’s face lit up with joy, arms open wide, greeting him with an unprecedented warmth.
It was certain to be trouble.
That was Zhu Ping’an’s first instinct. This was no empty rumor—every time his uncle was this warm, misfortune followed. “My family’s prized steed”? Are you speaking honestly? Have you forgotten the oft-repeated words of experience you always say?
“Brother Wang, thank you for your trouble.” His uncle quickly walked over, bowed deeply to the villager in front of Zhu Ping’an.
Behind Zhu Ping’an’s uncle stood another villager and his uncle’s overweight friend. When they saw Zhu Ping’an, they looked at him as if he were their savior.
“Since you’re here, compose the poem properly. Don’t use any more random, messy lines to offend our female scholar’s eyes.”
“Exactly. Our female scholar isn’t someone just anyone gets to meet…”
“You boasted that you’d bring over the one who just placed first in the prefectural examination for our female scholar, yet the poems you’ve wracked your brains over are still an eyesore…”
A commotion broke out in the distance, and then several people came over, surrounding Zhu Ping’an and his uncle and ushering them into a group of richly dressed individuals. These people were mostly scholars or young masters from wealthy merchant families who were fond of this sort of entertainment. There were also a few familiar faces Zhu Ping’an vaguely remembered from the Jingxian Poetry Gathering.
This group of people was gathered around a high platform. At the top sat an elegant young girl, veiled, but her captivating eyes were visible, drawing in the onlookers. Her aura was as graceful as ink, and in her delicate hands was an ancient zither, exuding an alluring yet subtle sense of temptation.
So this was the “female scholar” everyone had been talking about. Zhu Ping’an merely gave her a cursory glance before losing interest. He instead focused on the writing table in front of everyone, where brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones were laid out. In one corner were several sheets of incense-scented rice paper covered in poems, and the top sheet clearly displayed his uncle’s lines: “The female scholar is delicate as a beauty, a celestial fairy descended to earth.”
His uncle’s poetry was… quite something.
From the chattering voices around him, Zhu Ping’an soon understood the situation.
It turned out that after the prefectural-examination results were announced yesterday, his uncle and the others had been quite disheartened. They decided to come here for drinks and some lighthearted company to ease their frustration. They had called over some familiar courtesans to accompany them, and for a while everything had gone smoothly, with laughter and wine flowing. However, today happened to be the day of Zuijun Tower’s famed courtesan Mo’er’s monthly public reception.
Scholars, young masters, and rich gentlemen crowded forward, eager for a glimpse of her beauty, hoping for a chance to bask in her charm. Though Mo’er’s public reception was merely a time for her to play the zither and chat with guests, this was enough to stir the crowd. Those with money spent lavishly, and those with talent composed poems on the spot, all hoping to earn a chance to spend time with Mo’er.
Mo’er was well known for her talent, something reflected in her stage name. Because people admired and pursued her, they respectfully called her the “female scholar.” She always wore a veil when receiving guests, without exception. That only fueled the men’s curiosity and made her immensely popular.
Seeing Mo’er in her veil stirred up the passions of Zhu Ping’an’s uncle and his companions. The fact that she wore a veil only added to her allure, and they couldn’t help but imagine how breathtaking she would be without it.
After a few drinks, Zhu Ping’an’s uncle, filled with bravado, made a bold declaration. Though he had no wealth, he had talent—and in his opinion, his talent far surpassed that of his thirteen-year-old nephew. He loudly boasted that he and his companions were far more talented than Zhu Ping’an, who had just placed first in the prefectural examination, and claimed that one poem from them would make Mo’er willingly remove her veil.
The crowd, already eager to see Mo’er’s face, was intrigued by his words. When Mo’er smiled mischievously and agreed to their challenge, the excitement among the men grew even more intense.
Zhu Ping’an’s uncle quickly composed a poem, but it was far from impressive. Even the onlookers, eager as they were to praise poetry, were unimpressed by its poor quality. His boast that his talent surpassed that of the prefectural examination’s first-place candidate was quickly ridiculed.
Unfazed, his uncle continued, “I may not hold my liquor well, but what I said is true. Today’s first-place prefectural-examination candidate, Zhu Ping’an, is my own nephew. I only taught him a little while reviewing my own studies, and he still managed to take first place. If I weren’t already a tongsheng and therefore exempt from retaking the county and prefectural examinations, my nephew might not have been so lucky.”
Despite the ridicule, his uncle spoke with the confidence of someone accustomed to attention, and his speech was delivered with the air of a seasoned scholar.
At this point, his uncle’s boast also included the other men from their hometown, hoping to share in the glory. The crowd was now eager to see Mo’er’s true face, as it seemed she had finally spoken. This rare opportunity should not be wasted, and so the village men were encouraged to write poetry. Of course, they too played the same card, blaming their poor poetic efforts on not being able to handle their alcohol.
However, the crowd would not relent, insisting that Mo’er had spoken, and they weren’t about to let it go without seeing her face. The pressure mounted, and it became clear that Zhu Ping’an’s uncle and his companions were running out of options. Frustrated and desperate, the group resorted to insulting the other towns and regions in an attempt to salvage some dignity.
As the situation grew more awkward for his uncle and the others, it was clear that Zhu Ping’an would have to step in to smooth things over. His uncle and the villagers, caught in their own pride, pushed Zhu Ping’an into the spotlight.