Volume One Carefree Journey Among Shadows and Leaves Chapter Sixty-Three Pure Amidst the Lotus, Unstained by Seduction

The old flower seller nodded and said, "This young gentleman has sharp eyes indeed. The Full Hall Red is the treasure of my flower shop, and also the most expensive." He looked at Yang Ning, but Yang Ning, not waiting for him to speak, already smiled and turned to Xiaoyao, "Miss Xiaoyao, who do you think will claim the crown among these flowers?"

Xiaoyao walked to a pot of flowers, her gaze gentle. "I believe this Jade Linglong is also of fine quality."

"Oh?" The old flower seller smiled. "Why do you think so, miss?"

Yang Ning noticed that the petals of Jade Linglong were pure white, almost crystal-like. Compared to Full Hall Red, it lacked brilliance, but its simplicity and cleanliness, its understated elegance, held a unique charm.

"Jade Linglong is spotless, as pure as jade and ice. In terms of nobility, it certainly falls short of Full Hall Red," Xiaoyao spoke earnestly, her delicate face sincere. "But the way of flowers is like the way of people. A person's character has nothing to do with their status. To live upright and unblemished, to withstand the trials of fire and remain unsullied by selfish desires—only then can one's gaze remain clear." She turned to Yang Ning, continuing, "A heart free of dust can treat others peacefully; without selfishness, one can act justly. Governing a country and serving its people is just like... just like what the heir did today—unconcerned with his own birth, unconcerned with others' origins, stepping forward to rescue, yet yielding to no one. He is much like this Jade Linglong."

This girl truly knew how to speak, Yang Ning thought with admiration, pleasantly surprised. Xiaoyao looked neat and clean, dressed simply like someone from an ordinary household, but her words were refined. Her analogies of flowers and people were far superior to Yuan Rong's empty rhetoric. At least Xiaoyao's words were clear and easy to understand, unlike Yuan Rong, who had been quoting books for half a day without anyone knowing what he was talking about.

Though pleased, Yang Ning replied, "Miss Xiaoyao flatters me."

Yuan Rong shook his head, swaying with pride. "Miss Xiaoyao's insightful words are truly enlightening. In that case, Full Hall Red is perhaps only second best."

The old flower seller praised, "A few words from the young lady have doubled the value of Jade Linglong." He then turned to Yang Ning, bowing, "Heir, which flower do you think is the best?"

Yang Ning smiled, "I know nothing about flowers. Let’s just pick a winner between these two."

Yuan Rong laughed, "Yang Ning, is it that you don't want to, or don't dare? It's just us here—even if you say something wrong or nonsense, I promise none of us will spread it around."

Yang Ning, annoyed by his smugness, replied, "If you want me to find the crown among these flowers, I truly see none."

"So the heir means that none here is the flower king in your eyes?" The old flower seller pressed, "May I ask which flower you hold as the queen in your heart?"

Yang Ning thought for a moment. "Lotus."

"Lotus?" The old flower seller and Yuan Rong exchanged glances. Yuan Rong burst into laughter, "Yang Ning, you do have a unique perspective. It's deep autumn, October—there's no lotus to be found. But in the pond behind my family's garden, lotuses bloom every year, nothing special. If you compare, it is the least valuable flower in my estate." He pointed to Full Hall Red, "Do you know that this pot alone could buy all the lotuses in every household on Pipa Street?"

He clearly looked down on the lotus.

The old flower seller laughed as well, "So the heir loves lotuses. But on this street, few shops sell lotuses. Yet flowers shouldn't be measured by price. If you love the lotus, I'm sure you have your reasons."

Though his words were polite, Yang Ning could sense his disdain for the lotus. Xiaoyao, however, frowned slightly, as if deep in thought.

He did not argue, but after a brief pause, recited aloud, "I alone love the lotus for rising from the mud untainted, cleansed by pure water and never vulgar, open at the center and upright outside, neither sprawling nor twisted, its fragrance growing clearer afar, standing tall and clean, to be admired from a distance, never profaned." His voice was rich and resonant, rising as he continued, "Chrysanthemums are the hermits among flowers; peonies, the flowers of wealth; but the lotus is the gentleman among flowers!"

Yuan Rong, a man of letters himself, was stunned by the unexpected recitation.

Xiaoyao's clear eyes showed surprise. She thought for a moment, then softly echoed, "Rising from mud untainted, cleansed by pure water and never vulgar... admired from afar, never profaned..." Her bright eyes sparkled. "Heir, is this the reason you love lotuses?"

Yang Ning nodded calmly, his demeanor light as clouds and wind.

Suddenly, Yuan Rong exclaimed, "Wonderful!" He stepped forward, grabbing Yang Ning's arm, "Yang Ning, who wrote this? It's truly a masterpiece! I didn't know you knew such a person—could you introduce me?" He sighed, "I pride myself on my literary talent, but all my poems over the years are nothing compared to this—they’re just a pile of dog..." Realizing Xiaoyao was nearby, he stopped himself.

Yang Ning thought, at least you know quality, but you immediately assume that this 'Ode to the Lotus' isn't my own work, clearly looking down on me. He rolled his eyes, retorting, "Are you saying I couldn't have composed such verses?"

"Of course not," Yuan Rong declared confidently. "I know your abilities. This is not something just anyone can write. Rising from mud untainted, cleansed by pure water and never vulgar—those two lines alone could be sung for a hundred years."

Yang Ning thought, your vision is still limited—it will be sung for far more than a hundred years. He shook off Yuan Rong’s hand, saying, "You can claim whoever you like as the author. Once we leave here, you can boast that you wrote it, and I won’t contradict you."

Yuan Rong thought, that’s useless—people heard it from your mouth. Otherwise, I really could use it to show off.

"Heir, your words are truly remarkable," the old flower seller said, not a man of letters but sensing from Yuan Rong and Xiaoyao’s reaction that this was a great piece. He smiled at Yuan Rong, "Young master, who do you think should win today's flower contest?"

The old flower seller was a shrewd businessman. Inviting Yang Ning into the shop to admire flowers was, in truth, to advertise himself.

Yang Ning had rescued someone in the street, clashed with the Prince of Shu’s heir, and attracted a crowd. Such news would soon spread through the capital, raising Yang Ning's reputation.

Once word got out that the heir to the Jinyi Marquis admired flowers here, it would surely benefit business. From the start, he never intended to judge the winner himself—Yang Ning’s status was too high, and Yuan Rong looked to be from a wealthy family as well. If he decided the victor, he might offend someone.

Yuan Rong laughed, "For the sake of that poem, the winner is naturally this fellow." He looked at Xiaoyao, "Miss, what do you think?"

Xiaoyao had come only to appreciate flowers, not to compete. Moreover, Yang Ning’s poem was astonishing—a few words had vividly displayed the lotus’s appearance, character, and symbolism. Admiring him, she smiled, "The heir's lotus is truly the king among flowers."

Yang Ning laughed, "I was only babbling. Don’t take it seriously."

"If the heir really spoke offhand, that’s even more impressive," Xiaoyao smiled. "If you can speak such fine lines casually, imagine what you could do with a little effort! Rising from mud untainted, cleansed by pure water and never vulgar—such lines are not often heard."

Yang Ning rubbed his forehead, "Words are one thing, but those who truly live up to them are rare."

Yuan Rong agreed, "Yang Ning is right. Along the Qinhuai River, whether pleasure boats or music halls, so many live among filth, but few remain untainted by dust. Most are vulgar, not pure. Rising from mud untainted, cleansed by pure water and never vulgar—easy to say, hard to do."

"Precisely because it is difficult, it is precious," Yang Ning said. "Ten miles of pleasure quarters, so many songbirds, but how many are truly clean?" At this point, he realized such topics were ill-suited before a young lady and was about to change the subject, when he noticed Xiaoyao’s face had turned pale. She suddenly turned and left.

"Miss Xiaoyao, you…!" They had been enjoying their conversation, and Yang Ning never expected Xiaoyao to leave so abruptly. Her steps were light, and before anyone could react, she had reached the door.

Yang Ning’s heart sank, realizing something had gone wrong, though he couldn't tell which words had offended her. He hurried after her, "Miss Xiaoyao, did we say something wrong?"

In his haste, he caught her delicate arm.

Xiaoyao shook free, sneering coldly, "How could the heir say anything wrong? It’s just a foolish girl speaking nonsense." She walked away quickly.

Her tone was nothing like before—cold and distant. Her steps hurried, she soon melted into the crowd, leaving Yang Ning standing at the door. Suddenly, he noticed the pot of Golden Chalice Silver Platform nearby and called out, "Miss Xiaoyao, the flower you wanted…!" When he looked up again, she was lost in the sea of people.

Yuan Rong came over, puzzled, "What happened? Everything was fine—how did she suddenly turn hostile?"

Yang Ning frowned, "It seems we said something wrong… Which words could it have been?"

"We didn’t say anything wrong," Yuan Rong said, confused. "We were just talking about how there are few pure people among the pleasure boats and music halls along the Qinhuai River… Could that be what offended her?"

Yang Ning’s heart dropped. He guessed at a possibility and exclaimed, "Could Xiaoyao…?"

"That can’t be," Yuan Rong shook his head. "For someone of your status, you still don’t understand women. Miss Xiaoyao’s brows are straight, her waist slender, neck delicate and back upright—she’s clearly a maiden. Look at her manner and speech; she couldn’t possibly be from a brothel."

Hearing this, Yang Ning felt relieved. "If not, then why was she upset by those words?" He frowned, "Was it because we spoke without restraint, discussing such topics in this setting, making her uncomfortable?" He pointed at Yuan Rong, annoyed, "You really can't help yourself. We were admiring flowers—why bring up those things?"

"You can’t blame me entirely," Yuan Rong protested. "You kept the conversation going too. Why shift all the blame to me?"

The old flower seller approached carefully, "Heir…!" He held out two taels of silver. "Miss Xiaoyao is gone, so you needn’t buy the Golden Chalice Silver Platform."

"I’ll buy it, but leave it here," Yang Ning said, still wondering why Xiaoyao had left so suddenly. "Take good care of it. If Miss Xiaoyao returns, do whatever you must to give her this flower." He paused, "By the way, do you know her?"

The old flower seller shook his head, "People come and go every day. Even if Miss Xiaoyao has been here before, I… I can’t remember. But don’t worry, I’ll pay attention from now on and care for the flower."

Yang Ning stared at the place where Xiaoyao had vanished, murmuring, "Who are you, really?"