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“Can strategists not ascend to the throne?”
Chapter 258: The Goddess Sends Off the Troops
Wang Can, Wang Zhongxuan?
When Qiao Yan first heard that name, she let out a sigh of relief.
If the piece was written by Yang Xiu’s friend Ni Heng, or some other wild scholar, she might have needed to worry a bit.
But Wang Can’s words certainly put her mind at ease.
She didn’t think there’d be any significant issues with what he wrote.
After all, Wang Can came from a prominent family, and he had already made a name for himself around the age of fifteen. His early education and extensive reading ensured he wouldn’t develop any extreme views. It was precisely this early education that helped him cultivate the skill to craft essays and poetry.
It’s a pity, though, that his official career didn’t go too smoothly in the first half of his life.
His father served as the Grand General He Jin’s chief secretary, and after Dong Zhuo entered the capital, he found himself in a bind. Wang Can himself had turned down an invitation from Chang’an and went to Jing Province to ally with Liu Biao.
Wang Can wasn’t a powerful Jing Province family like Cai Mao or Kuai Yue, so he couldn’t provide Liu Biao with meaningful support. Plus, his appearance didn’t quite fit the mainstream beauty standards of the Han Dynasty. He was weakly built and not particularly handsome, so Liu Biao didn’t value him much. Rather than mistreating a scholar, he just had Wang Can draft official documents for him.
While Chen Lin, under Yuan Shao, wrote rousing proclamations against Cao Cao, Wang Can wrote pieces denouncing the Prefect of Changsha and advising the Yuan brothers to stop fighting each other.
This treatment, along with what he witnessed during the late Han period, led to a melancholy tone in his early poetry, like the Qiang Poem and the Tower Ascending Rhyme. Because of this, Zhongxuan Tower became a commonly referenced allegory among later poets.
But at thirty, he finally got his break.
After Liu Biao died and his son Liu Cong surrendered to Cao Cao, Wang Can joined the ranks of the Seven Scholars of Jian’an, where his writings turned passionate and heroic, epitomized by military poetry.
Both the earlier and later works were pretty realistic. It’s no wonder that Wang Can ended up writing a piece like The Heroes of the Late Han.
Overall, this leader among the Seven Scholars of Jian’an wrote with practicality in mind.
Even though his trajectory today is somewhat different from what history recorded, it shouldn’t veer too far off… right?
Eight years ago, when Qiao Yan and Yang Xiu discussed strategies at Dingzhong Temple in Luoyang, Wang Can’s father, Wang Qian, was also there, alongside Xu You, Chen Ji, and others at the Grand General He Jin’s mansion. Up to this point, the development trajectory of eight-year-old Wang Can has not diverged from history.
During Dong Zhuo’s chaos, Wang Qian wasn’t significantly affected. After things settled in Luoyang, he went to Ye City with Xu You and the others to join Yuan Shao.
However, less than half a year later, Wang Qian passed away due to illness.
Wang Can returned to his hometown, Shanyang County, with his father’s coffin, residing in Yanzhou.
Perhaps because news from the Chang’an court reached Yanzhou, Wang Can decided to head to Chang’an for a look. He just happened to catch a special event and penned a poem for Qiao Yan.
She thought he wouldn’t have changed his writing style. But when she received the submission from Cai Zhaoji, hearing her say, “Decide after reading,” while seeing the somewhat peculiar expression on her face, she had a foreboding feeling.
She opened the manuscript and was greeted by the title: The Goddess Sends Off the Troops.
Qiao Yan: “….”
Great, here comes the fantasy story.
That explains Zhaoji’s expression.
Qiao Yan decided to temporarily cast aside her rigid impressions of the title and read Wang Can’s article first.
The beginning indeed didn’t follow the norm, as it was not about a goddess or soldiers, but himself.
Just like how Wang Bo opened his “Tengwang Ge” with a description of why he was there, Wang Can began with his reason for being in Chang’an. But instead of detailing beautiful scenery, he spoke of despair: “Disasters rain down from the heavens, no state remains unscathed.”
From his travels from Ji Province to Yanzhou and back, he lamented the people’s woes, transitioning into why he had come to Chang’an—
“I and my friends hail from the capital.”
In other words, he was visiting friends, not coming to the capital specifically.
His timing was just fortuitous, as he happened to witness the opening of the streets to the public, giving him the chance to see such a lively scene.
Whereas an ordinary writer might describe the Chang’an scenery next, contrasting it with his earlier subdued introduction, Wang Can took a different approach.
He wrote about his travel exhaustion and how he found a lodging house under the guidance of a friend, where he promptly passed out from exhaustion.
In the middle of the night, he was suddenly awakened by the sounds of drums and gongs. Looking out the window, he saw “heaven and earth transformed, giving birth to pure truth,” with an ethereal being descending through the clouds.
As this celestial phenomenon was quite a rare sight, he momentarily forgot his weariness and hurried out of his lodging.
The celestial being floated down like a graceful feather, and as he got closer, her features came into view.
She was extraordinary, “once in a lifetime, with a rosy glow brightening the skies.” Though she wore no golden headdress, jewels, or luxurious garments, her simple white robe and dark hair glowed in the moonlight, still leaving Wang Can in a daze.
At that moment, on the new road of Chang’an, he spotted the source of the noise that had woken him.
It was a troop of soldiers ready for battle.
If the goddess was the peak of heavenly beauty, these soldiers were the crown of earthly might; it was as if “flags were raised to touch the sky, and drums sounded to shake the earth,” all vividly captured in his sight.
After such a grand first impression, it was followed by detailed descriptions—from the simple line about “selecting materials and soldiers, swords and crossbows arranged” to the stunning finale depicting “shimmering armor like a wall” as they lined up for departure.
But that wasn’t all.
Since the goddess sent off the troops, there had to be a connection between her and the soldiers.
The goddess looked down from the sky and offered her blessings, saying this long-an army must “never forget their orders and always keep their spirits high,” thus ensuring that “guests arrive from the east and west,” wishing for a smooth deployment and an early resolution of affairs concerning the world.
As she waved her sleeve lightly, the road beneath the soldiers transformed into a sparkling river, harmonizing with the moonlight, almost blinding him.
It was such a brilliant flash that Wang Can suddenly awoke.
He realized he hadn’t been truly woken by the drums at midnight and seen such a scene but had instead dreamt this celestial vision from what he had witnessed during the day.
With a sense of loss, he went downstairs for breakfast, wondering when he might truly witness the goddess sending the troops, even dreaming of it once more wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but the guest…
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The owner mistakenly thought he had come to Chang’an to reminisce about his hometown and slyly slipped half a boiled egg under his soup dumpling.
And just like that, the whole piece came to an end.
After reading the last line, Qiao Yan raised her eyes and exchanged glances with Cai Zhaoji.
Did Wang Can spread rumors? It didn’t seem so; he really did stick to his character with a realistic approach.
He didn’t attribute the construction of the Chang’an road to the goddess in his poetry; the first part described what he saw before arriving in Chang’an, and the last part about giving a passerby half an egg was quite realistic.
The so-called goddess sending troops was all a product of his dreams, not something that truly happened.
Is writing dreams a crime?
Of course not. And naturally, one could write it in exaggerated ways.
But what would people think after reading this “Goddess Sending Troops” piece?
They’d probably just see the setup before the dream and the final return to reality as merely structural elements, with what he really wanted to convey lying in the middle section.
The new road in Chang’an, which was once muddy, now appeared unbreakable, presumably due to the goddess’s blessing.
The Grand Marshal Qiao Yan, leading her troops, must have been equally blessed by divine favor to be so invincible.
Since her actions align with the saying in his essay, “Maintain my martial fierceness, support my pure kindness,” she received the gods’ gifts.
That natural adornment in the goddess’s appearance was unpretentious, and the new road in Chang’an was similarly simple and unadorned; clearly, they share the same essence.
As for why it was a goddess instead of a god, who knows? Maybe it’s because Qiao Yan is also a woman?
Qiao Yan was confident that if she handed this piece to Yang Xiu, he could immediately provide all this reading comprehension.
To evaluate objectively, Wang Can’s work, finished in a short span from yesterday to today, was certainly qualified to be showcased in the Leping Monthly Report.
Though he was only seventeen, the people from editing to writing for the Leping Monthly Report weren’t exactly old either, so Wang Can’s inclusion felt perfectly fitting.
But here’s the problem…
Qiao Yan asked Zhaoji, “If we put this in the June issue’s literature section, wouldn’t it seem like we’re blowing our own trumpet a bit?”
Although Wang Can made it clear in this piece that he had no relations with the Chang’an court and came here merely to visit friends, he had already expressed a stance at the beginning.
He mentioned “from the capital” rather than “from Chang’an,” implying that regardless of whether Yanzhou belonged to the Chang’an court, for this talented fellow without a position, Chang’an was the “capital.”
So directly placing this piece in the monthly report’s literature section would feel like self-supplied literature.
The audience for the Leping Monthly Report wasn’t limited to Bingzhou anymore.
Long before Qiao Yan gifted a collection of monthly reports to Liu Bian as a Year of Jian’an gift, even her rivals had started paying attention to this publication.
She initially thought her skin was thick enough, but now she realized that if she were to publish this piece directly in the Leping Monthly Report, regardless of Wang Can’s prestigious background, she might face accusations of overhype.
It seemed like she couldn’t be too straightforward about it.
Cai Zhaoji nodded along with Qiao Yan’s inquiry.
This truly wasn’t a matter of confidence or lack thereof.
Since she took charge of the Leping Monthly Report, they had published numerous advancements openly, and the literature section was no exception.
If they were embarrassed to display confidence in their conquest over formidable foes, there was no need to interpret Cai Yong’s “Kingfisher Poem” in a different way in there.
But Wang Can’s situation was really a different story.
Though it was true he had a knack for writing prose and avoiding obscure characters, allowing the often opaque Han fu to exhibit a distinct flavor in his hands, phrasing that matched the overall tone of the Leping Monthly Report, this goddess sending troops narrative felt just a tad too supernatural.
“But giving that up entirely would be a pity,” Qiao Yan sighed, resting her forehead in her hand.
Jia Xu had suggested she expand publicity through wonders, aiming to make Jian’an as recognized as Yonghan, waiting for the names of the literati to flourish, right?
Why hold back because of the praise for Wang Can’s piece?
After some deliberation, she replied, “Zhaoji, do me a favor.”
“At the end of the Chang’an road, where they hang qingtan paper and mulberry paper, set up a thousand of each. Anyone wanting to showcase poetry or paintings can come to claim five sheets under their real name, to be submitted and returned by the symposium ten days later for the top three selections.”
“The top three in poetry will have their works recorded in the Leping Monthly Report and distributed throughout provinces for publicity. All future supplies of mulberry paper will be provided by us.”
“The top three in paintings will have their works inscribed on stone tablets, with us covering the expenses for paper used.”
“In three days, we’ll hang Wang Zhongxuan’s ‘Goddess Sending Troops’ piece.”
If Wang Can’s work can stand out from this, she’d post it without delay.
If not, she’d have a clear explanation for Wang Can’s self-recommendation.
Seeing Zhaoji nod in agreement as she set to work, Qiao Yan read Wang Can’s essay again, thinking this was going to be like an ancient version of a military parade followed by a writing competition.
But wasn’t that just a peculiar interlude in the thriving scene of the new Chang’an dynasty?
Qiao Yan thought for a moment and sent someone to invite Wang Can over for a discussion.
This talented author on her turf had produced such a piece, clearly fond of the Chang’an court, and she couldn’t just wait ten more days before making arrangements for him.
If he slipped away, she’d surely regret it.
Wang Can, having submitted the essay, naturally had no hesitation about coming when Qiao Yan’s messenger arrived, standing right in front of her.
To Qiao Yan, although he appeared a bit frail compared to heroic figures like Ma Chao or Zhao Yun, it was no wonder that the renowned physician Zhang Zhongjing from Jing Province had advised him—if he didn’t take medicine for his illness, he’d first lose his eyebrows, then worsen, eventually dying young.
Yet his eyes sparkled with clarity, and his demeanor was calm, enough to show he had brilliant ideas inside him; one needn’t judge his abilities by his appearance.
However, when Qiao Yan asked him why he thought to submit to the Leping Monthly Report, that calmness flickered for a moment, and his gaze drifted.
He looked down and replied, “In the past, my father brought back a dictated piece for me to transcribe; I’ve never forgotten it and have long wanted to ask you to inscribe it. Thus, I took the chance to try.”
Qiao Yan: “…”
Wang Can produced a silk cloth from his sleeve, and she was not surprised to see it was the treatise on feudalism from the days of the provincial governor.
Qiao Yan found herself falling silent.
What an ancient-style star-chasing request for an autograph…!
