Chapter 37

Xun imagined Cao Bao to be a rough and crude warrior—no, upon further reflection, as the military officer of Xuzhou, he should be a scholar, not a warrior. After being beaten by Zhang Fei, he probably wasn't very rough either... or he should have a sly and cunning appearance, the kind of face commonly associated with minor villains or unknown generals.

However, he never expected the master who emerged from behind the screen to have such an appearance. This person was about eight feet tall—around 1.8 meters—broad-shouldered and slim-waisted, with long limbs. Just his physique alone was enough to grace the cover of a magazine. As for his appearance, how should one describe it? Most of the clichés used to describe handsome men in historical novels could fit him to some extent.

First, "face like a jade crown"—Cao Bao's skin was quite good, with no acne, spots, or freckles, but it was a healthy wheat color, not pale. Next, "eyes like bright stars"—his narrow eyes were often squinted, but when he opened them, they shone with a piercing light that made people hesitant to look directly. As for "a straight nose and a square mouth," his nose was indeed straight, but the tip was slightly hooked, giving him a bit of a sinister aura. His lips were slightly thick, which naturally dissipated this sinister aura, making him appear quite upright and peaceful. "Long beard like five willows"—he couldn't compare to the Guan Yu on the stage, but his thick and neat beard only reached his chest, far from his belly...

In short, if Cao Bao shaved his beard, in Xun's previous life, he would be a charming, wealthy, and handsome man, the kind who would cause young women to scream in delight when he went out. If he were to act, he would definitely be the male lead or the second male lead, and definitely a positive character, or a deeply hidden villain. Is this the Cao Bao who just plays a minor role? He almost looks like a wider-faced Runfa or a thinner-faced Daoming...

"Brother Shuyuan, how have you been?" Kuan's greeting completely dispelled Xun's doubts—indeed, this was Cao Bao, Cao Shuyuan. Cao Bao, with a dignified demeanor, returned the greeting with clasped hands: "Meeting Brother Shumian again, I am overjoyed. May I ask who this is?"

Kuan introduced Xun to Cao Bao, and they sat down as host and guest, exchanging a few casual words. Cao Bao didn't beat around the bush and quickly got to the point: "The purpose of your visit was mentioned in your letter the other day. Please rest assured, as long as I am in Xuzhou, no matter where you want to buy land, I will handle it. The location and price can be negotiated."

"Thank you, Brother Shuyuan." It seemed that Kuan and Cao Bao had a good relationship, and in just a few words, they had basically settled the major matters. They then began to talk about their experiences since they last met. Xun listened intently, and from their conversation, he gleaned several important pieces of information:

First, Cao Bao was the third son (hence the character 'Shu' in his courtesy name), and his elder brother, Cao Hong, whose courtesy name was Zhonghui, was also deeply favored by Tao Qian and held the position of military officer. Second, although Tao Qian had frequently mobilized troops in recent years to drive the Yellow Turbans out of Qingzhou, it was mostly Cao Bao and the cavalry commander Zang Ba who led the troops, while Tao Qian himself stayed in Tancheng due to his age and poor health, unable to endure the rigors of military campaigns. Third, Tao Qian's two sons, Tao Shang and Tao Ying, were both dissolute and immoral, causing widespread concern about the future of Xuzhou after Tao Qian.

Cao Bao and Kuan talked for over an hour, during which they often turned the conversation to Xun, seemingly worried about neglecting him. Xun, before responding, would clasp his hands to his chest, answering each question with great respect, never initiating any conversation—after all, he had no way to interject on these local historical details.

After a sumptuous banquet, the family reported that the attendants of the Shi brothers had been settled, and the rooms for the two Shi gentlemen had been cleaned. The banquet ended, and Xun returned to his room, claiming he had drunk too much and fell asleep immediately, fearing that Kuan might come to chat with him while he was tipsy. Lying on the bed, he thought, since Cao Bao had given his assurance, could he return to Zhu County tomorrow? Or did he need to finalize the details of the land and property purchases with Cao Bao? Since he couldn't contribute to the conversation, should he find an excuse to stay out of sight? What excuse could he use?

Perhaps due to the fatigue of the journey and the detailed descriptions of his travels that had kept Kuan engaged, Xun, after lying down for a short while, fell into a deep sleep. That night, he had a strange dream, dreaming that Kuan indeed came to talk about poetry. In the dream, he was not afraid and began with "When did the bright moon appear, I raise my cup and ask the blue sky," but Kuan replied, "It's not as good as 'When did the blue sky appear, I stop my cup and ask it.'" Xun was shocked: "Brother, are you also from the future? From which year and month did you come?" Kuan suddenly turned serious: "I come from the 78th century, and I have come to take you back to be castrated!"

He woke up with a start, drenched in cold sweat, feeling parched and thirsty. He called out, "Yue, bring me some water to drink." Then he fully woke up, realizing that no maidservants had accompanied them on this trip, not even a single one named Yue or Xing.

Raising his head, he saw a faint white light filtering through the window covered with thin gauze—oh, it was already morning. He got up, pushed open the window, and a sudden chill hit his face, making his nose itch and almost sneeze. Looking outside, he saw that the originally withered shrubs and lawn in the courtyard were now covered in a white blanket.

What? It's not even November, and it's already snowing? The weather is out of order.

He called for a servant to bring water, and after washing up, he was pondering how to get through the day when he saw Kuan coming through the snow, shouting from a distance, "Hongfu, you're up? The snowflakes are falling, and the world is white, what a beautiful sight. The Cao family has a beautiful back garden; let's go and enjoy the snow together."

Xun's heart sank. He thought, what he feared had come to pass. Could the snow be enjoyed so casually? Anyone who loves poetry would be inspired by any scenery, let alone a heavy snowfall that turned the world white. It was impossible to walk in the snow and ask Kuan to recount his travels. If he were to do that, why leave the house at all? It was over, over. It seemed that his identity as a literary copycat would be exposed today!

He tried to find an excuse to decline, but Kuan, without giving him a chance, pulled him by the sleeve and walked on. Xun, with his head down, racked his brain for a poem about snow to plagiarize. But all he could think of was: "The world is a uniform white, the well is a black hole. The yellow dog is white, the white dog is swollen." Damn, if he recited this doggerel, he would immediately become a laughingstock among scholars.

Kuan pulled him along, and Xun, lost in thought, didn't notice where they were going or what the scenery was like. Suddenly, Kuan stopped, and Xun, without realizing it, also stopped. He heard Kuan say, "This must be the daughter of Lord Cao. I am Kuan, and this is my younger brother, Xun."

Daughter? Where did a daughter come from? Xun looked up and saw two young women emerging from behind the snow-covered shrubs. One seemed to be a maidservant, while the other was wearing a fur coat with a hood, clearly a young lady from a wealthy family.

His first impression: indeed, this was Cao Bao's daughter, almost a carbon copy of him. Of course, this was a metaphor. If Cao Bao shaved his beard and put on women's clothing, no matter how handsome he was, he would scare children. But he could tell she was related to Cao Bao because she was also tall, probably around 1.7 meters, with a healthy wheat color, contrasting beautifully with her white fur and the snow. Like her father, her eyes were narrow and slightly squinted, her nose was straight with a slightly hooked tip, and her lips were slightly thick. In short, she wasn't very pretty, perhaps a bit less so than the second daughter of the Shi family, but she had a unique charm, combining laziness, liveliness, cunning, and kindness.

As he looked at her, she also turned her gaze to him, then smiled shyly, lowered her eyes, and turned her head, asking softly, "Is this the Mr. Hongfu who wrote 'The Flourishing Trees'?"

Xun's left eyelid twitched. He thought, there were no telegraphs or telephones in this era, so how did the poems he plagiarized in Qingzhou reach Xuzhou in just a year? And how did they even reach the inner chambers? Damn, he couldn't underestimate the connections among scholars in this era. He would have to be more careful about plagiarizing poetry in the future.

Kuan answered for Xun, "Yes, this is my younger brother, Hongfu. He arrived at your residence yesterday, and this morning, seeing the auspicious snow, he came to the back garden to enjoy it. We inadvertently disturbed the young lady, please forgive us."

Following Kuan's lead, Xun instinctively clasped his hands and bowed. He heard the young lady ask, "Seeing such a beautiful scene, does Mr. Hongfu have any wonderful poems to share?"

Damn, here it comes! Xun was furious. He thought, he was still trying to figure out how to deal with Kuan, and now a young lady appeared, wanting to talk about poetry and literature—what was a young lady, who should be focused on needlework, doing learning to read and write and pretending to be a literary young woman? At that moment, he almost wished for the era of Neo-Confucianism, where no well-bred young lady would dare to face a stranger without running away.

Unfortunately, he didn't travel to the Ming or Qing dynasties, and if he had, he wouldn't dare to plagiarize poetry and wouldn't be caught by a young girl.

In an instant, Xun's mind raced. Hey, when pushed to the limit, people can do anything. He closed his eyes, squeezed them tightly, and showed a look of sorrow and distress, then said, "How could I have any wonderful poems..."