“Scholar, how could you possibly…” Edward Clark blurted out uncontrollably, then hurriedly ushered this distinguished guest into his home. “I truly apologize, I never expected you would come, and the house hasn’t been tidied up. If you don’t mind, would you care to sit for a moment in the thatched hall?”

The thought of his wife still lying in bed, unable to move for that reason, and the lingering warm and amorous atmosphere in the inner room made cold sweat break out on his forehead. Samuel Adams had really come at the worst possible time—he absolutely could not let this literary giant witness such a scene, or who knows how the story would be twisted if word got out.

But as fate would have it, what you fear is what comes. Samuel Adams strolled casually for a few steps in the courtyard, then smiled and said, “Today I came especially to visit. Your front yard is neat and orderly, so you must have a virtuous wife. I imagine the inside of your house must be even more remarkable.”

“Well… my wife…” Edward Clark could hardly find a reason to object, so he simply made up an excuse with feigned confidence: “My wife has been unwell these past two days, so she’s been following the doctor’s advice and resting in bed. There’s a bit of illness in the house, so I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Scholar.”

“I see, then it was presumptuous of me.” Samuel Adams believed him and sat down on a stone bench in the thatched hall. “I was idle today and thought to pay a visit, but I didn’t expect your dwelling to be so humble. Hmm, on my way here I saw quite a few loafers. You must know the story of Mencius’ mother moving three times for his sake—have you never thought of moving?”

Edward Clark had never considered this before, but thinking of Stephen Clark’s ugly face today, and the gossipy neighbors all around, he was indeed tempted. He sighed slightly and replied helplessly, “I appreciate your kindness, Scholar, but as you can see, my family’s circumstances are humble. If I were to move to a quieter place, I simply couldn’t afford the expense.”

As he spoke, his expression gradually dimmed. Taking the opportunity, he joked about today’s cuju game, then self-mockingly mentioned the four strings of reward money. “I know it’s a frivolous pursuit, but for the sake of my family’s situation, I have no choice.”

Samuel Adams was moved and a little alarmed. He had met many poor scholars, but none quite like Edward Clark. Shaking his head and sighing, he asked with some dissatisfaction, “If that’s the case, why didn’t you tell me sooner? Do you think the gates of the Su residence are hard to enter? Time is as precious as gold. You’re still young, but you’ve already wasted much of your early years—you can’t afford any more delay!”

“Scholar, it’s not that Edward is being pretentious. If I had no other way, I would certainly come to you for help. But if possible, I’d still rather rely on my own efforts. Earning a few strings of cash from a cuju match is a good deal, isn’t it?” Edward Clark revealed a bit of his roguish side, and sure enough, Samuel Adams across from him was not offended, but instead showed a faint smile.

After the old and the young chatted for a while, Samuel Adams brought up the purpose of his visit. It turned out that, with the arrival of spring in March, several literary friends close to Professor Adams were gathering at the Su residence for a literary meeting, including some very famous figures—among them the so-called Four Scholars of the Su School: David Morris, Richard Bolton, Peter Grant, and Jonathan Reed.

Although he had been to the Su residence frequently of late, Edward Clark had never actually met these four. So when he heard of this rare opportunity, he naturally had no reason to refuse and agreed at once. Besides them, there were many other guests he hadn’t heard of. To be honest, for someone with so little learning, being invited was no small feat.

After respectfully seeing Professor Adams off, he finally breathed a sigh of relief and hurried back inside. He had intended to explain things to his wife, but to his surprise, Emily was curled up on the bed like a kitten, hugging her pillow and sleeping soundly. He couldn’t bear to wake her, so he quietly tidied up the dishes and the table, then filled a bowl with clear water and stood at the table with his brush.

Since it was a literary gathering, there was no escaping poetry and couplets. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much material stored up, and if he didn’t make good use of what he had, he’d soon run out of things to say. So he had always planned to hide his lack of talent, and had only plagiarized an obscure Song lyric the first time he appeared at the Su residence.

As he dipped his brush in clear water and wrote on the table, he muttered to himself, “It’s a pity I didn’t use my brain back then—I memorized too few Song lyrics! I did memorize a few of John Reed’s poems, but now the real author is already present, so I can’t use those anymore. Hmm, after this period, the only poets I know are Li Qingzhao, Xin Qiji, and Lu You. I’ve memorized the most of Li Qingzhao’s works—she should still be young now, so plagiarizing a couple of her poems shouldn’t matter. Of Xin Qiji’s ‘Green Jade Table’, I only remember the last line, and as for old man Lu Fangweng’s, that’s hard to say…”

By the time he had almost used up the bowl of water, he had finally managed to decide on a rough selection for the literary gathering, and was thoroughly exhausted. At this moment, he wished he could look up and lament the unfairness of fate, but he never realized how lucky he was to have met Samuel Adams so soon after arriving in this blessed place. Thinking of this, he soon drifted off into a deep sleep.