"Young lady, you are mistaken," Zhang Sheng cupped his hands and said with dignity, "This student merely expressed feelings inspired by the scenery. With Buddha in my heart, how could I be causing any disturbance?"
Hong Niang made a "hmph" sound and whispered to Yingying beside her: "Miss, look at him—what thick skin! He was clearly reciting while staring at you, yet he comes up with so many excuses."
Yingying's face turned even redder. She gently pinched Hong Niang, signaling her to stop talking, but her footsteps involuntarily slowed down a bit.
Hong Niang's eyes rolled with a clever idea. She simply stopped walking and smiled at Zhang Sheng, saying: "Oh? Inspired by the scenery? May I ask, Young Master Zhang, what scenery inspired what feelings? It's broad daylight—where did you find 'melting moonlight'? Your inspiration seems to transcend time and space!"
Her words were both shrewd and playful, causing several devotees who hadn't yet walked far to burst into laughter.
Hong Niang—truly living up to her reputation!
Zhang Sheng secretly admired her. This girl was sharp-tongued and quick-witted—a formidable character. Dealing with someone like her required following her lead rather than direct confrontation.
"The young lady jests," Zhang Sheng maintained his gentle smile, "In poetry, intention precedes the brush. When the moon dwells in one's heart, it can be seen even in daylight. When one has... someone they yearn for, all things can become vessels for those feelings."
His final sentence was delivered with exquisite subtlety, his gaze looking directly at Hong Niang while his peripheral vision locked onto Yingying behind her.
Yingying's heart suddenly trembled, and she hardly dared raise her head.
Hong Niang was momentarily stunned, not expecting this scholar to be not only poetically talented but also so silver-tongued. She was about to say something else when Lady Cui impatiently called from ahead: "Yingying, Hong Niang, why are you dawdling?"
"Coming, my lady!" Hong Niang responded, shooting Zhang Sheng a fierce glare that seemed to say, "Just you wait!" Then she hurriedly escorted Yingying away.
Watching their retreating figures, Zhang Sheng's smile deepened.
In this first confrontation, though he hadn't gained any advantage, his objective had been achieved. He had successfully cast his existence and his feelings like a pebble into the lake of Yingying's heart.
Now, he just needed to wait for the ripples to spread.
That evening, Zhang Sheng employed the same strategy again.
He calculated precisely when Yingying would return to her room after evening prayers, and stood beneath the wall of the west wing, facing the courtyard where Yingying resided, once again reciting loudly. This time, he chose something more direct:
"My yearning has deepened, daylight stretches like three months.
Flowers fall yet spring remains, I approach without startling birds."
Though flowers have fallen, spring remains, for in my heart, you are my spring. I've come here, not even disturbing the birds, just to be a little closer to you.
In the embroidery tower just beyond the wall, Yingying sat by the window, lost in thought.
The poem from earlier in the day, that gaze—they had branded themselves into her heart, leaving her distracted all day. Now, that familiar, clear voice rang out again, each word like a feather, gently tickling her heartstrings.
"This fool... this madman..." she muttered, yet the corners of her mouth involuntarily turned upward.
"Miss, it's that Zhang scholar again!" Hong Niang ran in from outside, fuming, "How bold he is, coming right up to the wall! Should I tell the Lady and have the servants drive him away?"
Hearing this, Yingying felt a surge of anxiety and blurted out: "No!"
Realizing her excessive reaction, she quickly covered up: "He... he hasn't done anything inappropriate, just reciting a few poems. Disturbing Mother would only make things worse."
What kind of person was Hong Niang? Someone with a quick, clever mind. One look at her mistress's expression told her everything she needed to know.
She moved closer to Yingying and said with a teasing smile: "Oh—so Miss is worried about disturbing your mother, not about driving away 'the poem-reciter'? Miss, tell me honestly, do you... perhaps find that scholar quite interesting?"
Yingying's face instantly reddened to her ears. She picked up her embroidery frame and gently hit Hong Niang with it: "You wretched girl, what nonsense are you talking? I ought to tear that mouth of yours!"
The mistress and maid laughed and played together while outside, under the moonlight like flowing water, the poetry continued to echo.