Chapter 26: The Four Scholars Extend Their Favor

After the poetry gathering concluded, Du Chengfeng paid no heed to the fervent gazes of the crowd. Quietly slipping past the throng, he prepared to leave alone. Just as he was about to step through the gate of the Luo Garden, a voice called from behind, “Brother Chengfeng, please wait!”

Du Chengfeng turned at the sound and saw the four renowned scholars of Chang’an. Their expressions were humble and amiable, which warmed Du Chengfeng’s heart; he had wanted to befriend them. Cupping his hands in greeting, he inquired, “Gentlemen, is there something you wish to ask of me?”

The four scholars quickly waved their hands, replying, “We wouldn’t dare, we wouldn’t dare—before Brother Chengfeng, how could we presume to instruct?”

With that, each introduced himself in turn.

“Brother Chengfeng, I am Luo Mingchuan.”

“I am Shi Yan.”

“I am Zhou Xiangwen.”

“I am Wang Fuchou.”

Their willingness to introduce themselves so openly left Du Chengfeng with an even more favorable impression. None of them displayed the pride or airs of celebrated men of letters, and Du Chengfeng saw no reason to act aloof himself. Sincerity was the heart of true friendship. Thus, he returned their courtesy and said, “May I ask what prompted you gentlemen to call after me?”

Luo Mingchuan stepped forward and said, “Brother Chengfeng, we’ve heard your name long before today’s gathering, but had never had the chance to meet you, much to our regret. We did not expect you to attend the poetry gathering, let alone to win the top honor so deservedly. The four of us are deeply impressed and would be honored if you would join us for a chat at Wangjiang Pavilion, if you are free.”

Since Du Chengfeng wished to make friends, he did not refuse. With a hearty laugh, he said, “Such hospitality is hard to decline. I would be honored—please, after you!”

The five of them climbed into a carriage, and before long arrived at Wangjiang Pavilion. The sharp-eyed manager, Master Lu, spotted Du Chengfeng accompanied by the four great scholars of Chang’an and instantly guessed they were there for a meal. With a flash of inspiration, he called over a waiter and instructed, “Quick, tidy up the Celestial Suite and escort Master Du upstairs.”

“The Celestial Suite?” The four scholars exchanged bewildered glances, their faces full of confusion and surprise.

It was said that the Celestial Suite at Wangjiang Pavilion was rarely opened, not even for princes or nobles. What was the occasion today, that Master Lu himself should show such favor to Du Chengfeng?

They knew they themselves could not command such treatment, not even collectively. The only explanation was that Du Chengfeng must have another identity unknown to them.

Led by the waiter, the five entered the Celestial Suite. Indeed, it was extraordinary—elegant, antique, and lavishly decorated. Standing at the window, one could take in the entire panorama of Chang’an. Inside, maids stood ready to serve. The four scholars could not help but voice their admiration.

These were all men of keen intelligence; none were fools. To be counted among the four great scholars was no small feat. Zhou Xiangwen laughed heartily and said, “Coming to Wangjiang Pavilion today, we owe it all to Brother Chengfeng’s good fortune. It is a great honor!”

Shi Yan and the others chimed in, “Indeed! Indeed!”

Du Chengfeng, fully aware, did not demur. He replied calmly, “You flatter me, gentlemen. Please, be seated.”

Turning to the waiter, he instructed, “Serve the dishes, and be sure to bring several bottles of Immortal’s Wine. Tonight, I intend to drink my fill with my esteemed friends.”

Zhou Xiangwen, a true lover of wine, lit up at the mention of Immortal’s Wine, rubbing his hands together in excitement, his mouth nearly watering. This wine was always in short supply; even they could only hope for a taste on rare occasions.

But then Zhou Xiangwen grew uneasy and asked, “Brother Chengfeng, Immortal’s Wine is rather dear, and we are but poor scholars…”

Although it was they who had invited Du Chengfeng, this development left them glancing awkwardly at each other, the atmosphere turning a little uncomfortable.

Du Chengfeng, seeing their embarrassment, smiled with understanding. These were men of genuine temperament—frank and unpretentious, unlike those who would put on airs beyond their means.

Relieving their worries, Du Chengfeng explained, “Gentlemen, there is no need for concern. Tonight’s entire bill is free of charge.”

All four responded at once, “How can that be? We cannot let Brother Chengfeng bear the expense for us!”

Du Chengfeng burst out laughing and explained, “You misunderstand. The Immortal’s Wine is my own creation, and I also inscribed two couplets for Wangjiang Pavilion. Thus, Master Lu, in gratitude, has offered us this hospitality as thanks.” He left the rest unsaid, trusting they would understand.

Realization dawned on them, and they recalled that it was indeed Du Chengfeng who brewed the famed Immortal’s Wine. Coupled with his poetic and calligraphic talents, this prodigy truly outshone them all. Their decision to seek his friendship had certainly been wise.

As cups were raised and laughter flowed, Du Chengfeng came to understand that these so-called four great scholars, for all their renown, were not men of wealth or privilege. Rather, they were kindred spirits—admiring one another, yet sharing the same frustrations. Though a few years older, they too had accomplished little, their ambitions stifled with no means to realize them.

Du Chengfeng could not help but sigh at the fate of scholars in the old days. To be a man of letters was to be overlooked, save for the rare few who ascended the ranks and found favor at court. Most, their talents unrecognized, their lofty dreams unfulfilled. Books were costly, and the most precious volumes were monopolized by the great clans, making it almost impossible for ordinary men to seek advancement through study.

The root of all this lay in centuries of Confucian thought, which misguided generations with the saying, “All pursuits are lowly, only study is esteemed.” This decayed maxim drove countless souls to chase after officialdom through the imperial examinations. Yet, of the multitudes who read, how many actually succeeded?

It was a deadlock, one that could not be broken without drastic change. For now, Du Chengfeng could do little about it. Yet, with the system in his possession, he knew it was only a matter of time before he could address this rot at its core.

Suddenly, he remembered that among the Four Talents of Early Tang, one was surnamed Luo and another Wang. Thinking closely, he realized his own luck—Luo Mingchuan was none other than the father of Luo Binwang, and Wang Fuchou was, it seemed, the father of Wang Bo. He recalled reading that famous childhood poem about the goose, composed by Luo Binwang at the age of seven—a true prodigy.

Du Chengfeng chuckled to himself. These men were indeed talents. And just when he was in need of capable people, fate had delivered them to his door—how delightful and fortuitous!

Thinking of Luo Binwang and Wang Bo, an ingenious idea struck Du Chengfeng. In ancient times, the lack of widespread education left people in awe of the inexplicable, shrouding the unknown in reverence and mystery. Yuan Tiangang and Li Chunfeng were prime examples.

With a faint cough, Du Chengfeng put on an air of mystery and asked, “Brother Luo, do you perhaps have a young son named Luo Binwang? And Brother Wang, do you also have a young son named Wang Bo?”