Chapter Thirty-One: The Grand Poet

Having achieved his main objective and formed plans for his next steps, Wei Renshi now found himself with leisure to take in the magnificent sights of Luoyang. Though the Tang dynasty was no longer at the height of its golden age, the Eastern Capital remained as bustling as ever. If even this capital and the Eastern Capital were to fall into desolation, then it would surely signal the end of Tang’s mandate, and the time for a new dynasty would be at hand.

He could not help but muse that the emperor seated in Chang’an, seeing only the prosperity of Chang’an and Luoyang, might never imagine how the rest of the land had already fallen into hardship. Such flourishing scenes could easily create an illusion, making one believe that the golden age still endured and the nation enjoyed peace and abundance.

At this moment, Wei Renshi and Li He were seated at the roadside, across from the Jixian Hall Academy. Although business was forbidden outside the official commercial districts, no one truly objected to an elderly man setting up a small table by the gate, placing a few stools, and selling a handful of bowls filled with well water.

After wandering through Luoyang for half a day, their bodies sticky with sweat from the heat, it was indeed refreshing to sit down and drink a bowl of cool well water. Carefully shielding his bowl from drifting willow fluff with his hand, Wei Renshi said to Li He, “Look at Luoyang—it still appears as grand as in the Kaiyuan era. But what of the other places? Luoyang is not the whole world.”

Earlier, over a bowl of water, Li He had quoted, “How much of the world’s splendor remains? Let us see Luoyang today.” Wei Renshi had not agreed with him, which led to his earlier reflections and his current words.

“Luoyang is splendid, but it is the only city in the land like this,” Wei Renshi said to Li He. “If every city in the realm were as prosperous as Luoyang, that would be a true golden age. As the poem says: ‘I recall the days of Kaiyuan’s full glory— even small towns held ten thousand households. Rice flowed like oil, granaries were overflowing, and both public and private stores were full. Across the nine provinces, roads were free of wolves and tigers, and travelers needed not await an auspicious day to set forth. Carriages of fine silk from Qi and Lu lined the streets; men ploughed, women wove, none lost their way. In the palace, sages played the Cloud Gate tune; throughout the world, friends were loyal as glue. For more than a hundred years, there was no disaster or unrest; propriety and music, law and order all in harmony.’”

“These are lines from Uncle Du’s poem,” Li He said.

“Uncle Du?” Wei Renshi was taken aback.

Li He explained, “Du, my father’s cousin, is my uncle.”

“I see!” Wei Renshi nodded. “If one truly wishes to speak for the people and work for their welfare, one must look down, not always up. How can one see through the world’s dust without entering it? Likewise, how can one know the people’s needs without seeing them? So you might revise your earlier words: ‘How much of the world’s splendor remains? The people of Guanzhong serve in Henan.’”

“Well said,” came a sudden voice from nearby. Turning, the two saw that the speaker was a man seated at another table close by.

He had been there before them, his back to Wei Renshi and Li He, and only now, as he spoke, did he turn toward them.

“It’s you?” The man was surprised to see Wei Renshi and Li He.

“Master Liu?” Wei Renshi had not expected to see him either. He rose with Li He and saluted, saying, “Student greets Master Liu.”

“To enter the world’s dust is to see through it; to see the people is to know their needs… I did not expect one so young to have such insight,” Master Liu said, smiling. “Come, sit with me.”

Li He glanced at Wei Renshi, who smiled and went to sit down. “It was but idle talk, Master Liu, forgive our jest.”

“No need for apologies. When I was your age, I had nothing like your vision,” Master Liu replied with a hearty laugh.

Wei Renshi studied him—this was the second great historical figure he had met since coming to the Tang dynasty. In this era, a man named Mengde, appearing in Luoyang, could be none other than Liu Yuxi, whose family hailed from Ying and was registered in Luoyang.

“Where do you study? Who is your teacher?” Liu Yuxi asked.

“I study at home, self-taught,” Wei Renshi replied. “I am from a humble family and have not apprenticed to a master.”

“With such vision, you should seek out worthy teachers, pursue scholarship, and in time sit for the jinshi examinations, to serve and support the state,” Liu Yuxi said, smiling. “You would do well to rent a room nearby and visit the Jixian Hall Academy daily to read. You are still young—ask often, and I believe many scholars at the Academy would not hesitate to give you guidance. Perhaps one may even take you as a disciple.”

Wei Renshi nudged Li He playfully. “Did you hear that? Master Liu has shown you a bright path.”

Liu Yuxi looked from Wei Renshi to Li He, then back again, studying him intently.

“This scholar beside me is Li He—Li Changji—already famed for his talent. He could compose poetry at seven, and people call him a prodigy. In two or three years, he will be renowned throughout the capital, his name spoken alongside that of Li Junyu,” Wei Renshi said with a smile to Liu Yuxi.

“Renshi! How can you talk such nonsense in front of Master Liu?” Li He immediately pulled him back, then rose and bowed. “Forgive me, Master Liu. Brother Renshi is always unruly; he was only joking. I beg you not to take offense.”

Wei Renshi laughed from the side. “Master Liu, why not test him yourself and see if I am joking?”

Liu Yuxi looked at Li He, then at Wei Renshi. “I was moved by your insight and wished to guide you. Yet you turn and praise this young scholar, claiming that in two years he’ll be the equal of Li Yi! Li Yi—Li Junyu—what a figure! He passed the outstanding examination in the fourth year of Jianzhong, his poetry is acclaimed by all, especially for his frontier verses, and he is now fifty-two. What is this child, that you dare compare him to Li Yi?”

“Words are empty without proof. Seeing is believing,” Wei Renshi suddenly snatched up Li He’s old brocade pouch and handed it to Liu Yuxi. “Master Liu, why not have a look?”

Li He quickly tried to snatch it back, but Wei Renshi dodged him, and before he could take it back, the brocade pouch was already in Liu Yuxi’s hands.

Inside were poems Li He had composed during these days in Luoyang, as well as some written on the road to the city.

Wei Renshi had no intention of pursuing the imperial examinations himself, but he did not mind helping Li He gather resources. By chance they met Liu Yuxi today, so he thought to lend Li He a hand.

Though Liu Yuxi would later be exiled for his part in the Yongzhen Reform, he endured repeated setbacks without ever yielding—a spirit well worth Li He’s emulation. Moreover, he would eventually return to high office, and might well be of help to Li He.

If it had been someone else, Wei Renshi would not have dared act so boldly.

But this was Liu Yuxi, and Wei Renshi was willing to take a chance.

Liu Yuxi possessed a heroic vigor, a chivalrous bearing that suffused his poetry and earned him the title “Poet-Hero Mengde.” With such a temperament, he would not be easily angered by Wei Renshi’s actions. Were it another, they might have left in a huff.

“Hm?”

Liu Yuxi began to read Li He’s poems. After glancing through several pages, his expression shifted to astonishment, and he could not help but utter a sound of wonder.