Ning Gan had a long wooden case in his hands.

He pushed his way to the front of the stage and said loudly, “Miss Nanzhi. This is a jade flute I had found for you. I hope it pleases you.”

And he opened the case.

Inside lay a jade flute with a soft, warm sheen on it.

Miss Nanzhi’s eyes brightened a little.

Ning Chen was rather surprised. Ning Gan has a real gift for getting a girl. He knows how to give a person what she wants.

He turned and looked at Pan Yucheng.

Pan Yucheng might have been made of wood. He was gripping the poem Ning Chen had given him hard enough to wring the water out of it.

Ning Chen could not watch any longer. He went over. “Old Pan. What are you dawdling for? Any longer and somebody else carries Miss Nanzhi off.”

Pan Yucheng hesitated a good while, then shook his head slightly and sighed. “Never mind. Coarse fighting men like us are not fit for her. Being able to look at her quietly is enough for me.”

Ning Chen’s forehead was full of black lines.

“In one particular respect we coarse fighting men are a good deal better than those poets and versifiers, thin as chicks.”

“Old Pan, don’t be a coward… What are you afraid of, with me behind you? I have the letters and you have the arms. Together there is nobody in the world who can touch us.”

Ning Chen hauled him up without giving him a chance to argue and pushed him to the edge of the stage.

“Miss Nanzhi. Over here, over here. Look over here—”

Ning Chen called it several times and she did not turn around.

His voice did get Ning Gan’s attention. Ning Gan looked over, and his face changed a little.

Miss Nanzhi was very interested in Ning Gan’s jade flute. He felt he was close to carrying the beauty home, and he could not have Ning Chen ruining it for him.

“Miss Nanzhi, pay no attention to him. I know that man. He is coarse and he has no manners, and his mind is an ugly one—”

Ning Gan started making things up about Ning Chen.

Pan Yucheng saw that she had not turned around, and sighed. “Leave it.”

“Leave what? Do you know the three rules of getting a girl?”

“What?”

“First, persistence. Second, shamelessness. Third, persistent shamelessness.”

Pan Yucheng: “…”

“Old Pan. Watch this.” And Ning Chen threw his head back and sang at the top of his voice.

Girl across the way, look over here,

look over here, look over here…

There’s a handsome guy right here,

please don’t pretend to ignore him…

(TL Note: what Ning Chen is bellowing is a love song from the world he came from, which nobody in this one will write for another thousand years.)

The strange song brought not only Miss Nanzhi’s eyes around but everyone else’s as well.

Pan Yucheng was embarrassed and wanted to slip away, and Ning Chen caught hold of him.

“Miss Nanzhi. Allow me to present our Chief. Pan Yucheng, Pan the Gold Coat. He is… ah, not very old at any rate. He stands like a jade tree in the wind, a fine figure of a man, sound in body, and eats anything you put in front of him. And the main thing is he can turn his hand to letters or to arms.”

“Our Chief is steady and dependable, upright and kind, and he has admired Miss Nanzhi a long while… If you think well enough of our Chief, you might try spending a little time together. What do you say?”

Before she could answer, Ning Chen laughed. “And our Chief has written you a poem.”

“Old Pan. Bring out the poem you wrote.”

Pan Yucheng hesitated a while, then put his head down and handed her the poem, shy and awkward with it, not daring even to look her in the eye.

Ning Chen wanted to laugh.

The day they had taken him to the palace to be tried, they were ambushed, and Pan Yucheng had carried him in one hand while he dodged left and right, cutting the incoming bolts out of the air with the other and killing a man with every stroke. What a figure he had cut then.

And in front of a girl he liked he had gone to pieces like this?

“A coarse fighting man who writes poetry. The strangest news under heaven. I doubt he even understands the meter.”

A grating jeer came from beside them.

Ning Chen turned and looked. Lou Juncai again.

The rest said nothing, but their eyes were full of contempt for Pan Yucheng.

Ning Chen looked at Lou Juncai and smiled. “While our Chief is getting a girl, would the gentleman kindly keep his mouth shut?”

Lou Juncai’s face filled with cold laughter. “What is this? The Inspectorate governs heaven and earth. Does it govern what a man may say as well?”

Ning Chen frowned. “I am curious how the gentleman makes sounds with his backside. Is this what they call the mimic’s art?”

Lou Juncai’s face darkened. He pointed at Ning Chen. “Coarse fighting man. You dare insult me?”

Ning Chen rolled up his sleeves. Something dangerous came into his eyes as he looked at him. “Since the gentleman does not understand reason — as it happens, I know a little about fists and feet.”

That frightened Lou Juncai back two steps. “You— what are you going to do? Do you know who I am?”

Pan Yucheng caught hold of Ning Chen at once and shook his head at him. “Don’t.”

Ning Chen had come out of the cells one step ahead of death. If he made more trouble now it would be hard to get clear of it.

Feng Qizheng came over and pointed at Ning Chen. “Do you know who he is?”

Lou Juncai felt he had lost face by backing away, and he made a cold sound and said it with complete contempt. “A coarse fighting man. A nothing who doesn’t even rate.”

“A nothing?” Feng Qizheng laughed coldly. “This nothing of yours is called Ning Chen. The Ning Chen who cut down the Empress’s brother.”

The color went out of Lou Juncai’s face, and fear came into his eyes.

The others were the same.

The common people might not know about it, but the sons of the great houses had known for days.

Ning Chen cut down the Empress’s brother and walked away whole.

Who does not fear a hard man like that?

Ning Chen glared at Feng Qizheng, with nothing at all to say.

Pan Yucheng frowned. “That is not to be mentioned again.”

If that reached His Majesty’s ear it would become Ning Chen presuming on favor, and it would do him no good.

Feng Qizheng pulled his head down and laughed weakly. “All right. Not again… That one we leave alone. But there’s another name of Ning Chen’s we can bring up.”

He looked over at the poets and versifiers, put both hands on his hips, and said it loudly, with his whole face pleased with itself.

“You dead losses. Every day of the year you call us coarse fighting men… Everything all of you will write in your whole lives is not worth one poem of Ning Chen’s.”

“Drunk, I trim the lamp to look at my sword; in dreams I am back among the camps, the horns calling down the line.… Ten paces, one man dead. A thousand miles, and nothing in his way.… Ground to powder, broken to pieces, and it is not afraid at all — it means to leave its whiteness clean in the world of men. You have all heard those, haven’t you? Ning Chen wrote every one of them.”

An uproar went through the room.

Those matchless pieces of work were written by Ning Chen?

Even Nanzhi and Yudie turned and looked at him, astonished.

That Ning Chen was Lan Xing had come out at court, and the officials, civil and military, had kept it to themselves by common understanding — because once the world knew, the men at his gate begging for poems would come thick as carp crossing a river, and getting one for themselves would become very hard indeed.

“Hah… Anyone can boast. Everybody knows those works for the ages were written by Lan Xing. How have they become Ning Chen’s?”

Lou Juncai’s face was full of scorn.

The rest nodded along with him.

Feng Qizheng laughed coldly. “A pack of fools. Ning Chen is Lan Xing and Lan Xing is Ning Chen… His Majesty knows it, and so does every official in the court, and they all say Ning Chen is an immortal of poetry born again.”

Astonishment went through them again.

Now they had to believe it whether they liked it or not. Feng Qizheng had nerve enough for a good many things, but not for putting words in the sovereign’s mouth.

The Inspectorate’s men looked at all those faces with the look of fools on them and were extremely pleased with themselves. Every one of them straightened his back. Let anyone try calling the Inspectorate coarse fighting men after this.

Only Ning Gan. His face twisted with the jealousy in it.

Damned bastard. A chance to shine like this belongs to the eldest son of the Ning house… Why should a bastard have all that glory?

(End of Chapter 77)