Chapter 85: Seeking Shelter from the Snow at Wuting (4)

Kong Sheng’s words, especially those veiled criticisms aimed at Prince Guo Li Ju, stirred a deep resentment in Li Xuan. Li Xuan’s brows tightened as he replied coldly, “Brother Kong, you are but a scholar from the south, ignorant of the situation on the Henan front, yet you speak rashly and blindly. Not only does it reek of empty theorizing, but it also lacks fairness. What do you mean by ‘fighting separately’? The circumstances leave us no choice! Today, tens of thousands of soldiers are holding Jianghuai, fighting the rebels with their lives. Even if we do not join the battle for our country, we should not embolden the enemy and diminish our own spirit!”

Kong Sheng was momentarily stunned, glancing at Li Xuan. He had spoken out of emotion, without any intention of criticizing the current situation or the war, and certainly not to belittle the soldiers fighting against the rebels in Henan. He was surprised that his casual remark had provoked such a fierce reaction from Li Xuan. Suspicious, he merely smiled and decided not to pursue the topic further.

As the saying goes, “If words do not meet, even half a sentence is too much.” Since their views diverged, there was no need to continue. However, Li Xuan’s proud and relentless nature would not let it rest. Seeing that his rebuttal had not elicited even a hint of shame from Kong Sheng, he grew more dissatisfied, and his words took on a more biting tone: “The rebel An is a traitor, and the whole realm should unite to punish him! Yet now, you scholars and citizens of the south care only for romance and leisure, not for rising up against the rebels and serving the court. It is truly disappointing!

“I came to the south and saw only festivities, singing, and the stench of wine behind red gates. Do you not realize that if the rebel An grows strong, tens of thousands of cavalry could sweep into the south? Would the thirty-eight prefectures still enjoy their current peace and freedom? And would gentlemen like you still have the leisure to compose poetry and prose?”

As Li Xuan spoke, his expression grew indignant, his voice filled with sarcasm and rose sharply. In his agitation, he did not conceal it, and the traces of a feminine voice became even more pronounced.

Of course, Li Xuan’s outburst was not aimed solely at Kong Sheng. He had been in the south for over a month, everywhere witnessing prosperity and peace, untouched by the rebel An’s uprising. The indifference shown by officials and citizens toward the struggle in the north had already become a deep pain in Li Xuan’s heart.

Pent-up frustration now found a vent through Kong Sheng’s words. Kong Sheng frowned. Li Xuan’s remarks indeed reflected the current state of the south, but to condemn all southern scholars and citizens with one stroke was excessive.

“The rise and fall of the realm is the duty of every man. Among southern scholars, there are many of insight. The peace and music here do not mean that the army and people are indifferent to the nation’s plight. Your words, Young Master Li, are rather extreme.” Kong Sheng tucked his hands into his sleeves, raised his head, and grew calmer.

“Oh? Are there truly men of insight among southern scholars who rise against the rebels? On my journey here, all I saw was revelry. Are these so-called men of insight merely composing poetry at gatherings like you, or writing lines of passionate verse on paper? The lines ‘The hungry feed on the flesh of the northern barbarians, the thirsty drink the rebel An’s blood’ are not meant to be spoken, but done with real steel and sacrifice!”

“Facing rebel cavalry, with thousands shedding blood on the battlefield, do refined scholars like you still have the courage to jest and breeze through life?”

Li Xuan mocked, rising abruptly.

Kong Sheng’s expression changed slightly, but soon regained composure. Li Xuan had quoted two lines from “The River Runs Red,” showing he was attentive. Yet clearly, he harbored resentment and dissatisfaction, looking down on the southern region’s complacency. Otherwise, his words would not carry such hidden barbs.

Kong Sheng did not wish to argue further on such a pointless topic, nor to debate who was right or wrong. Seeing Li Xuan’s agitation, he did not press the matter, merely smiled gently and turned to gaze elsewhere—the snow outside the pavilion was gradually stopping, and on the official road nearby, a few travelers wrapped in straw cloaks trudged laboriously through the snow.

The atmosphere in the pavilion suddenly became awkward and stifling.

Li Xuan’s aggressive words did not provoke a retort from Kong Sheng, leaving Li Xuan somewhat embarrassed amidst his indignation. He turned slowly to glance at Kong Sheng, seeing the famed young scholar of the south smiling calmly, exuding an air as gentle as a spring breeze. For some reason, the anger bubbling within him gradually dissipated.

He had indeed heard of Kong Sheng’s name back in Pengcheng. Kong Sheng’s few masterpieces, especially the mournful “Song of Everlasting Regret,” had been spread by traders between the north and south, already known in Jiangbei and Henan, though not as popular as in the south. As for the petition to the capital, since Henan was the main battlefield, news was blocked and the emperor’s edict had not yet reached Pengcheng.

Li Xuan had not expected to encounter the famed southern scholar Kong Sheng here at Xiangwu Pavilion outside Runzhou. Yet after this exchange, his initial favorable impression of Kong Sheng had diminished, regarding him merely as another pedantic scholar who only knew how to talk, leaving him disappointed.

Had Li Xuan known that at this moment, Kong Sheng was already a student of the Emperor, officially appointed as Magistrate of Songcheng in Suiyang, braving peril for the nation, he might have thought differently.

Faced with Li Xuan’s aggressive and condescending attitude, Mu Changfeng was indifferent, but the brothers Wu Xian and Wu Jie could no longer bear it. Unable to restrain themselves, they were about to speak in Kong Sheng’s defense, but Kong Sheng stopped them with a glance.

Wu Xian stamped his foot in frustration, snorted coldly, and turned to look outside the pavilion. Though his position was humble, he was a palace guard by origin and carried a sense of pride. Kong Sheng being looked down upon was tantamount to them being belittled, naturally irking him.

Especially that rude, arrogant attendant—were it not for a wish to avoid unnecessary trouble, Wu Xian would have revealed his identity and given him a hard slap.

Wu Jie exhaled heavily, then drew in a breath of fresh air, feeling thoroughly refreshed.

Kong Sheng cared little for the opinions or perceptions of a mere passerby. Even if the man had an illustrious background, it would stir no ripple in Kong Sheng’s heart.

He was eager to enter the city and rest, so he might replenish his strength for the journey ahead. Seeing the snow had stopped, he rose and cupped his hands to Li Xuan: “We are off to the city, Young Master Li. Farewell, and may we meet again if fate allows.”

These were merely customary words, not expecting to see each other again.

With that, Kong Sheng called Mu Changfeng and the others to lead their horses away from Xiangwu Pavilion, turning onto the official road toward Runzhou.

Behind them, Li Xuan’s sharp, indifferent laughter mingled with the whistling northern wind: “All talk and no substance—the so-called southern talents are just like this. Truly disappointing.”