Fuck, a damn ladyboy!"From the verses you just recited, brother, I can tell you're a man of great ambition," the stunning young master said, pausing his laughter and gazing thoughtfully at the lake. "As you said, Jiangnan is rich with scholars and beauties, brimming with poets and literati whose verses spread across the land. That's its strength—but also its weakness."
"Oh?" Lin Wanrong's interest piqued. Someone in this era actually thought about this stuff? "Brother—uh, kind sir—what do you mean by that?"
He nearly slipped up and called him a "ladyboy" out loud. Even if the kid probably wouldn't know what it meant, explaining it would've been a massive pain in the ass.
The young master nodded. "Since the founding of our dynasty under Emperor Taizu, there's been a habit of favoring the literary over the martial, especially here in Jiangnan. Scholars and ladies alike take pride in their literary flair. In times of peace and prosperity, that's all well and good. But now, with the nation in crisis and northern enemies invading, they're still carrying on like nothing's wrong. Where does that leave the country? A nation, a nation—only with a nation can there be a home. If everyone acts like them, 'drunk on warm breezes, mistaking Hangzhou for Bianzhou,' what hope is there for our Great Hua Dynasty?" The more this ladyboy young master spoke, the angrier he got, his face practically ablaze with fury.
Lin Wanrong had been in this world for a month now and already knew it was called the Hua Dynasty, ruled by an emperor surnamed Zhao, with the capital in Shuntian.
Word was, foreign tribes were invading from the northern borders, and the Hua army was losing ground left and right. Luckily, though the barbarians were fierce, they hadn't expected the Hua forces to collapse so fast. With their supplies running low and late autumn turning to early winter, they'd paused their assault, retreating to the grasslands to regroup and prepare for a full-on push into the Central Plains next year.
Back in the days of the previous Song Dynasty, Bianzhou had been the capital. Corruption and incompetence left it vulnerable when invaders came, forcing the Song court to flee south to Hangzhou, relegating Bianzhou to a secondary capital. When the Hua Dynasty's founder took the throne on horseback and drove out the barbarians, establishing the Great Hua, the shame of Bianzhou lingered in memory. So when Lin Wanrong recited "mistaking Hangzhou for Bianzhou," this young master understood and agreed wholeheartedly. (Note: This is a completely fictional world. The Song Dynasty here isn't the one we know—just a coincidence in naming. More on that later.)
Though Lin Wanrong still felt a bit out of place in this world, he knew one thing: since he was here, he had to dive in. These were his people now, and he'd be damned if he let foreigners trample them.
"For a nation to thrive, it needs both civil governance and military might—neither can be neglected. All this singing and dancing to paper over peace? We could do with less of it," the young master concluded, his face a mix of concern for the country and its people.
At first, Lin Wanrong figured this ladyboy was just some pretty face who spent his days drowning in makeup and women. Turns out, he actually had some guts and vision. Lin Wanrong's opinion of him shifted a bit.
But for the current Lin Wanrong, making the nation rich and strong wasn't his burden to bear—not yet, at least—so he didn't show much enthusiasm.
The young master clearly wasn't a fan of the scholars on the lake. What he said made some sense, but Lin Wanrong's business instincts told him things weren't as simple as they seemed. He couldn't fully buy into the young master's spiel.
Lin Wanrong let out a cold snort, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and ignored the young master, staring out at the lake in silence.
Seeing his reaction, the young master assumed he was a scholar too. Frowning, he asked, "Brother, do you hold any academic rank?"
Lin Wanrong shook his head. "Never took the exams." Shit, you think you're the only one who can play the literary game? I can too. But this kid's got terrible eyesight—has he ever seen a scholar or juren in hemp clothes with his toes sticking out?
The young master pressed, "Have you ever sat for the township exams?"
Lin Wanrong shook his head again. "I don't even know which way the exam hall's door faces."
The young master looked puzzled. "So you're saying you're not even a—" He stopped mid-sentence, realizing his slip, and quickly swallowed the rest of his words.
Lin Wanrong knew exactly what he meant, and it pissed him off. Exams, huh, you damn ladyboy? What kind of eyesight do you have? If I weren't educated, could I recite that perfectly fitting poem? A top graduate from Peking University—in today's terms, that's a student of the Imperial Academy. Give it a few years, and I might even snag a cushy post there as a dean or something. And you dare look down on me?
Then again, he hadn't read much of this era's books. The ladyboy saying he wasn't a scholar wasn't entirely off-base.
Fuming, Lin Wanrong let out a soft huff and slowly recited, "Beyond the mountains, green hills rise; beyond the towers, more towers soar. When will West Lake's song and dance ever cease? Warm breezes intoxicate the travelers, mistaking Hangzhou for Bianzhou."
The ladyboy young master's eyes lit up. He clapped repeatedly, exclaiming, "Good, good! 'Beyond the mountains, green hills rise;' 'When will West Lake's song and dance ever cease?' Brother, your talent is extraordinary! With just this line, no one under heaven could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you!"
Even the servant, who'd been giving Lin Wanrong the cold eye, now looked at him with reverence.
Lin Wanrong chuckled inwardly, scoffing at the ladyboy's ass-kissing tactics. But damn if the flattery didn't feel good—he'd hit his weak spot dead-on.
Still, this ladyboy kept badmouthing scholars while praising Lin Wanrong's poem to the skies. Hypocritical much?
The young master was sharp as hell, though. Catching the look in Lin Wanrong's eyes, he seemed to get it and hurriedly said, "Sir, your talent is unmatched—forgive me. I absolutely didn't mean to look down on scholars. It's just that, with the nation in peril, I can't stand seeing Jiangnan's scholars act like 'the country's about to fall, and it's none of my concern.' I spoke out of turn. With your noble character, please pardon me." As he spoke, he actually bowed to Lin Wanrong in apology.
Seeing the guy own up so sincerely, plus his top-tier flattery skills, Lin Wanrong decided not to hold it against him. He fake-helped him up, clasped his fists, and said, "So, what's your name, brother?"
"No need for formality! My humble surname is Xiao—Xiao Qingxuan," the ladyboy young master replied, quickly returning the gesture with respect."
Oh, Brother Xiao, huh? I'm surnamed Lin—Lin Wanrong, that's me," Lin Wanrong said with a grin, not a shred of politeness in his tone.
"So it's Brother Lin! My apologies for any disrespect," Xiao Qingxuan said, looking at him. Those two dimples appeared on his fair face again, tinged with a blush, and between his brows flickered an indescribable charm.