Chapter Twenty: Even Sages Gossip

On the first day of her holiday, Yu Qian packed her bags and set out. Upon arriving in Meizhou, her first move was to start a livestream titled, “Qian Qian Takes You on a Tour of Scholar Dongpo’s Hometown.”

The moment Su Dongpo saw the name, he exploded, “You cheeky girl, are you trying to add more lessons?”

“Hehe, it’s just that you haven’t been home in a thousand years, and I thought you might be feeling homesick,” Yu Qian stuck out her tongue, pleading for forgiveness.

“Is that what you call home? Can that still be called home? Just look at what you unfilial descendants have done to it!” Seeing the scene in the Three Su Shrine, Su Dongpo was truly aggrieved. His perfectly good home had, in just a thousand years after his death, been turned into an unrecognizable mess!

Back when he and his father and brother lived there, books filled every corner—a true scholarly household. Even when he was exiled, the house was never as ruined as it was now.

Look at that stone statue—how could the three of them be so ugly!

Look at those inscriptions—who knows where they found such dreadful handwriting!

Look at the house—the exterior already seemed off, and the interior was so modern, yet they claimed it was a historical site?

Angry and wronged, he threw a tantrum and shut down the livestream in a fit. He couldn’t bear to watch anymore—the more he saw, the angrier he became!

Hmph!

The other sages found his fury hilarious, each one laughing uproariously. Du Zimei grinned and asked, “Weren’t you going to take him to Zhongyan next? What’s that?”

“Oh, Zhongyan? It’s a scenic spot in my hometown’s little county. They say it’s where Scholar Dongpo had his first love and studied.”

“Tell us more about Zhongyan! What’s so interesting about the Three Su Shrine anyway? We’ve heard him brag for a thousand years about how great the father and sons were, but he never mentions his wife!” Li Qinglian, holding his wine gourd, chimed in.

“According to the history books, both of Scholar Dongpo’s wives were from my hometown, and they were cousins. His first love and original wife, Wang Fu, was his teacher’s daughter, whom he met while studying at Zhongyan.”

“Unfortunately, Lady Su’s fate was ill. Though they loved each other deeply, she passed away early. Dongpo mourned her with the verse, ‘Ten years, living and dead apart, not thinking, yet hard to forget.’”

Later, his wife Wang Runzhi was Wang Fu’s cousin. It’s said that Dongpo married her because he believed she could better care for him and Wang Fu’s child.

Whether these tales are true or not, I couldn’t say—you’d have to ask him.

Giggling, Yu Qian nudged the gossip toward Su Dongpo, adding, “When I return to the county, I’ll start a livestream for you all at Zhongyan. There’s a statue of Scholar Dongpo and Wang Fu there, quite lovely. Hmm… ten times better looking than the one at the Three Su Shrine.”

“Alright, alright, take us to see it then. Once you’re done touring, go find your parents—we’ll chat with him.”

After touring the Three Su Shrine and hearing the gossip, the lively crowd prepared to go find Su Dongpo together.

Yu Qian, cheerful after her sightseeing, bought a ticket to the provincial capital. Meanwhile, Su Dongpo was beset by the sages.

Though each of them had suffered much in life, after so many years of death, they mostly gathered to write poetry and paint, their personalities softened by time.

Rarely did something so amusing come along, so naturally, they banded together to watch.

Su Dongpo felt his worldview was being overturned—weren’t they supposed to be revered sages? How could they be so gossipy?

The next day, after visiting Du Fu’s Thatched Cottage and listening to Du Zimei wax poetic about his admiration for Li Qinglian, they were schooled on modern “fujoshi” culture. The way the others looked at the two changed entirely.

“I…I…I just think Brother Qinglian is talented!” Zimei protested, feeling deeply embarrassed. He genuinely admired the master, nothing more.

Qinglian, seeing their looks, denied it three times, “I’m not, I haven’t, don’t say nonsense.”

Watching others caught in the same predicament, Su Dongpo felt his anger dissipate. Serves them right—for making such a fuss! Keep it up!

For once, the group chat was in uproar—Fuxi and Nuwa secretly watched the stream daily, laughing until their stomachs hurt.

Nuwa even took screenshots and shared them with the Six Realms group, drawing a crowd of immortals to spectate the gossip.

Speaking of screenshots, that was something Yu Qian had taught them. She couldn’t screenshot content on her phone, but this feature, standard in modern smartphones, was available to the sages and immortals. They loved it.

Immortals preferred not to waste magical power recreating scenes, and sages had none to spare. So when they needed to relay something or emphasize what someone said, they simply sent a screenshot.

Nuwa even amended the group rules: aside from screenshots, other spam would still result in muting.

During the two days at home with her parents, Yu Qian was far from idle. She shared her ideas from her activities and used her Hanfu as an example.

Traditional Chinese attire varies greatly by dynasty; though the market is small now, there are quite a few enthusiasts.

Moreover, not only young women—children and men like it as well. Even if they can’t wear it daily, they might buy a set or two for their homes.

In her previous life, after the internet boomed, Hanfu workshops flourished, and cosplay became increasingly popular. Even if not many people buy now, you could still create samples and display them, then tailor orders to fit customers.

Having thoroughly convinced her parents, she showed them some simple sketches she’d drawn. The couple, persuaded, promptly tried to convince Lawyer Cao.

Lawyer Cao immediately understood: wasn’t this the precursor to haute couture? Foreign brands focus on various gowns, but theirs would feature national characteristics.

After some research and checking out existing Hanfu shops, he agreed.

With the plan set, Yu Qian produced a stack of design drafts, covering men, women, young and old.

These were all provided by group members, who, upon hearing her plan for custom ancient attire, offered their designs as a favor.

The Weaver Girl, with permission from several celestial maidens, contributed designs favored in the Heavenly Court.

“Qian Qian, did you draw all these?” Wen Yu was stunned by the quality.

“No, I just happened to know some skilled people. They enjoy making these designs in their spare time. I got their consent and promised the sketches wouldn’t run out before sharing this idea.”

Though Yu Qian said they were from others, Wen Yu was skeptical. Plenty of historical dramas and costumes exist nowadays, but the styles are mostly similar. Not a single repeat among these sketches, each unique and exquisitely detailed.

Wen Yu mused—her daughter must have connections with some immortals who generously sponsored these, thanks to her affinity.

After some thought, she asked, “Do they have any requirements for providing these designs?”

Yu Qian considered a moment, “Just pay the designers as usual. Give me the money, and I’ll forward it to them.”

Wen Yu was puzzled—do immortals need money? But she said nothing more and nodded.

Yu Qian wasn’t keeping the money for herself. She often used her own savings to buy treats for them, but with only expenses and no income, even generous pocket money from her parents wouldn’t last. Besides, she had other plans for her small treasury. This money could serve as a snack fund for buying treats for them.