Chapter 4: I Am Capable

Liu Tan shook his head. Even if you didn’t ask, I would have done the same. Since I’ve returned to life and crossed into this world, history will not repeat itself. My doctorate in engineering wasn’t bought with money. In my previous life, I went through nine years of compulsory education, four years of university, and another five or six years for my master’s and doctorate—I didn’t study all that for nothing. You ancient people always boast about being learned enough to fill five carts, but all that content together probably doesn’t even take up as much space as a single Japanese film!

As for literary talents, Liu Tan—even with his engineering background—was not afraid. At the very least, he could recite masterpieces and famous lines from future generations; wouldn’t that be enough to astonish these ancients? It was now the year 227 CE, almost two thousand years before 2018. That meant Liu Tan had two millennia of accumulated elegant essays and ornate phrases at his disposal.

Thinking of this, Liu Tan burst out laughing.

“Your Majesty, what are you laughing at?” the Empress asked in confusion.

Liu Tan replied, “How can you be sure I am inferior to you in the literary arts?”

The Empress cast him a sidelong glance, her tone full of disdain. “As if I don’t know Your Majesty? All day long it’s nothing but feasting and pleasure, your eyes glued to the pretty palace maids. Such shameless boasting!”

Liu Tan let out a cold laugh. “What you see is merely a facade. The depths of my heart are not so easily discerned by ordinary folk like you.”

“Pfft!” The Empress couldn’t help but spray the tea she had just sipped.

Once again, Liu Tan realized that in the Empress’s eyes, his reproach meant nothing. Otherwise, how could she still be in the mood for tea while being questioned by the Emperor?

“Sigh, why do I feel like Your Majesty is acting so strange today?” The Empress put down her tea, reached out to feel Liu Tan’s forehead, and murmured, “No fever…”

“Enough!” Liu Tan barked. “I am being serious!”

“Very well, I’ll believe Your Majesty for now!” The Empress opened her arms and spun twice in place with a coquettish air. “Your Majesty, in Wei there is a famed rhapsody called ‘The Goddess of the Luo River.’ If you can compose a piece for me—not asking you to surpass it, but at least to match it—then I’ll admit Your Majesty’s literary talent surpasses mine. From now on, I promise never to show you a sour face in public again!”

Liu Tan felt a rush of excitement. That’s the masterpiece of Cao Zhi, after all! Its grace and elegance are unrivaled, even after two thousand years.

Still, after a moment of thought, Liu Tan looked up. Was he really being pushed to reveal his trump card?

He had planned to show off with a few five- or seven-character quatrains later, but now…

He called out, “Attend me! Bring brush and ink!”

Ignoring the bustle outside as eunuchs and maids hurried about, Liu Tan pulled the Empress into his arms. In his previous life, Liu Tan had always fancied himself similar to Cao Cao in his tastes—fond of married women. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have ended up crossing over after a tryst with a married woman. The Empress before him was, after all, a true married woman—his wife in this life.

This made the Empress blush with shyness. The Emperor had never acted like this before—he always seemed distant, as if she were just another caretaker, not as close as even a favored concubine.

With deep feeling, Liu Tan said, “Having brushed past the gates of death recently, I’ve come to cherish life and the beauty of my Empress all the more. Now that I’m recovered, I regret the past. So I shall compose a ‘Song of Everlasting Sorrow’ for you, that we might, as husband and wife, face the future of Shu Han together.”

“Your Majesty!”

The Empress felt dizzy, moved to tears. The Emperor had never treated her this way before; he’d always seemed to avoid her.

Just then, Wang Li arrived with several palace maids, carrying brush, ink, and a long roll of white silk, which they set on the table in the pavilion.

After dismissing the eunuchs and maids, Liu Tan asked, “Empress, will you be my scribe?”

The Empress stood and replied, “I am willing to write for Your Majesty!” She moved to the table, brush in hand, and looked at the Emperor. “Your Majesty, you may begin!”

Liu Tan folded his hands behind his back, feigning profundity as he paced. Inwardly, he apologized, “Brother Juyi, forgive me. Poetry is not my strong suit. I can only borrow your ‘Song of Everlasting Sorrow’ to restore my household authority.”

“The Emperor of Shu, enamored of beauty, yearned for a peerless consort,
For many years he ruled the realm, yet could not attain her.
In the Zhang family, a girl came of age,
Raised in seclusion, unknown to the world.
Born with unsurpassed beauty, impossible to hide,
One day chosen to stand by the sovereign’s side.
A backward glance, a smile—countless charms were born,
In all the Six Palaces, none could compare.”

Liu Tan moved about, appearing to ponder his words, but in truth, thanks to his grandfather’s love of classical literature, he’d been made to recite poetry from a young age—even through middle and high school. Only in college had things eased up. As a result, countless poems and essays were etched in his mind—there was no need to think.

He watched the Empress. After writing just a few lines, she paused, her body trembling in disbelief.

“Heh, amazed, aren’t you? This is the great Bai Juyi’s masterpiece. Cao Zhi may have composed poems in seven steps, but compared to Bai Juyi, he still falls short.”

“Empress, why have you stopped? Write, quickly! I’m waiting on you!” Liu Tan urged.

He glanced over. The Empress’s brushstrokes were smooth and round, reflecting a woman’s gentleness—lacking the boldness of a man’s hand.

Still, he had to admit, her calligraphy was far better than his own.

Sighing, Liu Tan realized that in a society where brush and ink ruled, he would need to practice his writing—otherwise, he’d be a laughingstock.

The Empress responded with a couple of “yes”es, thought for a moment, then wrote Liu Tan’s lines onto the silk.

“Empress, make your characters smaller. This ‘Song of Everlasting Sorrow’ is quite long!” Liu Tan called.

The Empress nodded, and Liu Tan continued—not composing, but reciting.

“In spring’s chill, she bathed at Huaqing Pool,
Warm waters caressed her creamy skin.
Her maids helped her rise, delicate and weak,
It was just then she first received the Emperor’s favor.
Cloud-like hair, a face like a flower, golden hairpins swaying,
Lotus-draped bed, warm through the spring night.
But spring nights are brief, and the sun rose high;
From then on, the sovereign neglected his morning court.
Attending banquets, there was no leisure,
Spring days for outings, nights for pleasure.
In the harem, three thousand beauties,
All his love bestowed on one alone.”

As the Empress copied the small characters, her heart was in turmoil, pounding wildly.

Was the Emperor praising her? The language was no less splendid than that of “The Goddess of the Luo River.”

Was she really so wonderful?

She suddenly recalled how she had treated the Emperor in the past—so overbearing and unreasonable.

At this thought, the Empress lowered her head, feeling a sense of shame.

Liu Tan continued.

“On the seventh day of the seventh month, in the Hall of Longevity,
When no one else was present, they whispered in secret.
In heaven, may we be as two birds flying wing to wing,
On earth, as two trees with branches entwined.
Heaven and earth may have their end,
But this longing will endure, unending.”

By now, the Empress could no longer write properly. She bit her lip as tears fell, drop by drop, onto the silk, blurring the characters.

She forced herself to finish the last stroke, then collapsed on the floor, murmuring, “In heaven, may we be as birds flying wing to wing; on earth, as branches growing together. Heaven and earth may end, yet this longing endures forever!”

For some time, the Empress knelt there. Finally, she looked up at Liu Tan and asked, “Your Majesty, did you truly compose this for me?”

Liu Tan straightened, answering solemnly, “Of course.”

“But…” The Empress shook her head. “But I have so often shown you a sour face—how could I deserve such devotion?”

Liu Tan bent down and helped the limp Empress to her feet. “We are husband and wife—two parts of one whole. This is how I see my Empress. Now that I am resolved to be strong, should not my Empress also seek to change?”

Suddenly, the Empress pushed Liu Tan away, stepped back, and knelt, her expression serious. “Your Majesty, I was wrong before. Please punish me!”

Liu Tan grinned, leaned down, and with a finger lifted her chin, gazing at her delicate face.

“Will you scold me again?”

The Empress bit her lip, pitifully.

Shaking her head, she replied, “I dare not, Your Majesty!”

“And will you pull my ear again?”

Again, the Empress shook her head. “I dare not, Your Majesty!”

Before Liu Tan could speak again, the Empress continued, “Rest assured, Your Majesty. I will relearn the palace rituals and the virtues of a woman. I promise to make Your Majesty proud!”

Liu Tan was delighted, though he showed nothing on his face. He merely shook his head and asked, “Empress, are you sure you can do it?”

The Empress crawled forward, hugged his leg, looked up with watery eyes, and vowed, “Your Majesty, please rest assured—I can!”