On the Qinhuai River, painted boats cruised, and the riverbanks were illuminated with lights. Jiangning did not close its city gates on the Mid-Autumn Festival, the revelry lasting all night until the early morning of the following day. The streets within the city were teeming with people, who emerged from their homes shortly after dinner, flocking to the most bustling areas centered around the Confucius Temple and Mingyuan Tower. Lanterns adorned the roads like a vast, unwavering stream of fire. Vendors shouted, dragon and lion dance troupes paraded, accompanied by the sounds of gongs and drums. Street performers gathered, and alluring songs from the brothels beckoned, with glimpses of dancers inside. People bustled in and out, creating a lively scene.

The more renowned courtesans had their engagements for the night. Seats could occasionally be found in the halls, and news of new poems from certain poetry gatherings or gentlemen circulated on the streets. These were highlights of the evening. Soon after, a famous courtesan would recite the poem in a brothel, followed by the announcement of another masterpiece emerging from a different gathering. Talented individuals competed, and the beauties embellished these talents with an aura of romance. Most people enjoyed the lanterns and the festivities, reveling in a atmosphere reminiscent of the Wei and Jin dynasties, and the elegance of the Tang era.

The art of poetry had flourished since the Tang Dynasty and had developed for hundreds of years. Although Ning Yi and Qin Lao might casually remark that "great and small talents are hard to say" when chatting, it was because their perspectives had transcended ordinary standards. In fact, the nation's leaders were already contemplating the impracticality of poetry. The criteria for selecting officials had been repeatedly weighed over the past century, with the imperial examinations sometimes excluding poetry, and sometimes including it, constantly reevaluating the balance.

However, even with such considerations at the upper levels, the position of poetry had reached a glorious peak, at least in the broader context. If one could compose a truly good poem, they would undoubtedly be met with respect and courtesy everywhere they went. The air of refinement was a hallmark of the era. Since the Tang Dynasty, the vast and magnificent culture of poetry had settled here, becoming the foundation of society and a shining part of civilization's development, with countless famous works glittering like stars, forming the most important link in Han civilization.

At this time in Jiangning, places like Black Robe Lane and the Confucius Temple were the most bustling commercial streets. Merchants displayed poems from various poetry gatherings on exhibition boards. Some people recited them aloud, while others hired girls who could sing to perform excerpts. In the streets, nearby teahouses, and restaurants, scholars critically evaluated the best poems, judging whose work would be remembered the longest. Even commoners who had never studied could sense the artistic atmosphere, commenting and discussing with those around them, absorbing some of the refined air.

The six-boat connected barge of Puyuan had already left the shore, slowly cruising along the most beautiful and lively section of the river. Even so, it was not isolated. More than ten smaller boats followed along the banks of the Qinhuai River, occasionally picking up people to go to the larger boat, and sometimes carrying people or passing poems out, like small fish accompanying a floating palace. The people boarding the ship would bring up the best works of the night, as well as stories and news, such as a certain important figure announcing the betrothal of his daughter to so-and-so, or a well-known person praising a young scholar's outstanding poetry.

The poems from the Puyuan Poetry Gathering were generally acceptable. In previous years, they had even bought poems to get through the day, but now there was no need. Since they had money, they could always hire some truly talented people to come. Although it couldn't compare to the most famous Zhi Shui Poetry Gathering or Lichuan Poetry Gathering, the reputation would gradually rise after some lively promotion.

Mid-Autumn Festival poetry gatherings often focused on the moon, but they wouldn't write solely about the moon all night. Some gatherings had restrictions, with the host being more assertive. When everyone was chatting happily, a topic would arise. Poetry gatherings were literary societies, some being competitive or subtly vying against each other. For example, Zhi Shui and Lichuan, after hearing a topic from the other side, someone might say, "Speaking of this, I happened to have composed a poem..." Then, with a calm expression, they would offer it for everyone's critique, outwardly displaying no hint of rivalry. If poetry truly reached a high level, it would indeed be difficult to distinguish between the works, but if there was a significant difference, the masterpiece and the clumsy work would be obvious.

It wasn't yet the most intense moment. The poetry gathering would last until dawn. Truly good poems couldn't be composed on the spot. Most scholars would prepare one or two of their best works. Only those who felt their talent was insufficient and didn't want to embarrass themselves in front of the top figures would release their work early. The climax, when the top talents released their trump cards, would often begin around midnight. If one could gain a good reputation at this time of night and accumulate fame, their future career would be much smoother.

The night deepened in this atmosphere, and the moon rose to its zenith. The city's atmosphere continued to grow more fervent. In the small Su residence, Ning Yi and Xiao Chan had already returned to their room. From here, they could see some of the festivities.

They had already seen some of the excitement, and a breeze had started to pick up outside.

The distant clamor faintly reached here. The master and servant were having a small Mid-Autumn Festival celebration. Since he didn't remember the details of *The Romance of the Western Chamber* very well, and considering that it was about a young lady's secret love affair, Ning Yi ultimately told Xiao Chan a story from *Journey to the West*. Afterwards, Xiao Chan sang him two little songs, interspersed with a not-very-skilled dance—reportedly learned from seeing it at a performance—Su Tan'er had never considered giving the three maids away or using them to please others in the future, so she had them learn to read, write, do embroidery, and help manage the servants to assist her with her work, but she had not taught them musical instruments or dance. Although they could barely manage singing, they didn't know how to dance. Still, her movements seemed light and lovely.

Xiao Chan liked to play *wuziqi* (Gomoku), but Ning Yi was ill and needed to avoid such mental exertion. After Xiao Chan finished singing and dancing, Ning Yi played a simple magic trick for her, making a chess piece disappear in his hand, then pulling it out of her hair or pocket. The little girl was startled and amazed. Ning Yi laughed and told her the principle behind it. As Xiao Chan clumsily repeated the process, Ning Yi said, "I want to sleep now. It's still early, Xiao Chan, go to the Puyuan Poetry Gathering... Oh, the invitation is on the table..."

"I'll go after Master sleeps," Xiao Chan said with a smile.

"Heh, then how about singing me another song?"

"Okay, which one does Master want to hear?"

The songs of this time were mostly poems, with fixed melodies for each *ci pai* (lyric pattern). However, these melodies have been lost in modern times. Xiao Chan didn't know many songs. The two of them took a collection of poems and songs and chose a song by the bedside.

"Ode to a Fisherman..."

"Xiao Chan doesn't know that one."

"How about 'Remembering Jiangnan'?"

"I can sing that one." Xiao Chan eagerly prepared to sing.

"Forget it, I don't like that one."

"Then does Master want to hear 'Nian Nu Jiao'?"

"This 'Shui Diao Ge Tou' is not bad, uh... 'Shui Diao Ge Tou'..."

"I know that one, I know that one."

"You can sing 'Shui Diao Ge Tou'?" Ning Yi thought for a moment, "Oh, Xiao Chan knows quite a few things."

"Shall I sing that one?"

"Uh... let's sing another one, also 'Shui Diao Ge Tou'..."

Ning Yi was bored and actually remembered Faye Wong's "When Will the Moon Be Bright?". However, Su Shi didn't seem to have written this poem in this era. He had Xiao Chan bring him paper and a brush, and he leaned over the bed, crookedly writing the poem on the rice paper, asking Xiao Chan to sing it for him. Xiao Chan's eyes sparkled as she looked at it. "Did Master write this?"

"Oh." Ning Yi thought, seeing Xiao Chan's expectant face, he shrugged, "I wrote it, it's yours. Sing, sing."

Xiao Chan looked at the poem for a while and carefully sang it according to the rhyme and rhythm of the *ci pai*. The little girl's singing voice was light and melodious. Although not very professional, she sang it earnestly, so she messed it up once in the middle, but the artistic conception was still great. After Ning Yi finished listening, he smiled and said, "I'll teach you another way to sing it."

"Ah?" Xiao Chan blinked her eyes, "Another... way to sing?"

"Yeah, I'll sing a line and you sing a line, it should be easy to learn... Heh, mainly I want to hear it."

Although a little puzzled, Xiao Chan was immediately happy to learn something new. She had been by Ning Yi's side the longest, so she had gradually understood that this master often had very mysterious and interesting things about him. Then, under Ning Yi's guidance, Xiao Chan learned the *Shui Diao Ge Tou* line by line in the room, following the novel melody.

"When will the moon be clear? With a cup of wine in my hand, I ask the blue sky..."

"When will the moon be clear? With a cup of wine in my hand, I ask the blue sky..."

"I do not know what celestial palaces..."

"I do not know what celestial palaces..."

"Hmm, not bad... are like tonight."

"Hmm, not bad... are like tonight."

"..."

"Hehe, Master, sing the next line..."

In any case, soon after, Ning Yi heard a modern song that he missed in this era. If possible in the future, he could copy down modern songs and teach Xiao Chan to sing them alone, or later find someone who could compose and play musical instruments to compose similar tunes, anyway, it would be fine for him to listen to privately, it wouldn't be able to be taken out or be presentable.

"What do you think? Is it good?"

"It's very good..." Although *ci pai* had fixed singing methods, these ancient songs and many operas had the same origin, mostly monophonic music. In terms of melodious changes, they were ultimately inferior to modern songs, and the rhythm of this song followed a gentle route, which was not too outrageous compared to this era. If he sang "Mice Love Rice" at this time, Xiao Chan would either be disgusted to death or scared to death, but at this time, the little girl's eyes were already looking at him with admiration and admiration, "Master can also compose..."

Ning Yi smiled, "Just hum this song to yourself, don't sing it everywhere. If you, a little girl, dare to change the *ci pai* and singing methods, you might be said to be ignorant, you know?"

"Yes." Xiao Chan held the rice paper and nodded vigorously.

"Okay... good night." Ning Yi climbed into the quilt. After a moment, he turned his head and found that Xiao Chan was still sitting on the stool by the bed, looking at him, like she had been sitting by the bed guarding him when he had a cold a few days ago. He waved his hand, "I'm fine, go out." Only then did Xiao Chan react, quickly stand up and walk towards the door.

"Hey, take the invitation on the table, or be careful they won't let you on the boat..."

After shouting, after Xiao Chan blew out the lights, took the invitation and went out and closed the door, Ning Yi yawned greatly. The noise of the city was still faintly coming from the distance, but the slight light reflected in the window was enough to prove the excitement outside at this time. He smiled, "A night of fish and dragon dance..." Then, he drifted off to sleep.

Xiao Chan leaned against the wooden pillar of the room for a long time, making sure that Ning Yi was really asleep before going downstairs, returning to her room, lighting the lamp, taking out her pen, ink, paper and inkstone, and lying on her desk, she copied the words that seemed to be ugly because they were written by the bed again. The little girl's calligraphy was very small, with a delicate and spiritual aura. She looked at the words written by Ning Yi several times before blushing and putting them in the bottom drawer and hiding them, as if she was doing something wrong.

Afterwards, she walked out of the courtyard, saw that there was no one on the road, and then trot all the way to the gate, asked the steward for a carriage and a free driver, and went happily to the Puyuan Poetry Gathering to join in the fun.

Little girls, after all, still like this kind of excitement.

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