The sun crept into the sky, bearing the promise of a poetically fruitful day. I gazed out my window to see Ch'ang-an spread out before me, its walls surrounded by a carpet of emerald treetops. I inhaled the familiar scents of home-the sweet aroma of incense, the musk of the horses and the mixed market smells. I sat at my desk, amidst calligraphy brushes, paper, rollers and ink pots that my uncle, the emperor, had given me to work on copying a scroll of Buddhist wisdoms written by Xuanzang after his return from India. Gazing out at the city again I that it was too beautiful outside to be cooped up in my room. So I gathered the scroll and calligraphy materials, and ventured out to the courtyard.

As I worked, the band playing in the courtyard caused my mind to wander to Uncle Hsuan's banquet that afternoon. It was to be huge, featuring musicians from all over the empire. Most of all, I was thrilled about brushing elbows with other court poets and impressing them with my poetry. In my excitement, my elbow bumped the ink pot on the edge of the bench, sending ink splashing over my clothes, the bench and the scroll. Frantically, I tried wiping the ink off the scroll. I began to think about the consequences for destroying a national treasure-public flogging, imprisonment...the possibilities were endless! Then I shrugged my shoulders indifferently. Why should I worry about punishment? After all, I am the nephew of the Emperor Hsuan tsung, which exempts me from most of the punishments to which commoners are subject. I decided to continue copying as much from the piece as I could, then simply return the stained document to the Wild Goose Pagoda. So I finished my work, then tucked the scroll into my pocket to return to the monastery.

The Court Scene

I returned to my room, washed up and changed into my finest silk. After deciding that my appearance reflected my poetic genius, I strolled down the palace hallways to the banquet. I could already hear a troupe of Bactrian musicians playing as they approached the gate.

Finally, I reached the banquet room which was closed off by a set of double doors, banded with Persian brass resembling tigers, while the other bore dragons. Along the stone carved walls hung numerous tapestries and paintings of nature scenes, war scenes, and, sitting higher than the others, a tapestry of my uncle, Emperor Hsuan tsung. Below each of these was a poem that corresponded with the artwork, written by such great poets as Li Po, Weng Wei and Yuan Ch’ien. My uncle sat at a large rosewood table, clad in the most elegant robes of purple silk. He grinned when he saw me, and gestured for me to sit beside him. As we spoke briefly about the progress of my poetry, servants laid out mountains of rice, spinach from Nepal, Silla pine seeds from Korea, olives from Persia and grape wine imported from Kashgar. The scene reminded me of something that the poet Wei Yingwu once wrote, "Entertaining Literary Men in my Official Residence on a Rainy Day",

    "Outside are insignia, shown in state;
    But here are sweet incense-clouds, quietly ours.
    Wind and rain, coming in from sea,
    Have cooled this pavilion above the lake
    And driven the feverish heat away
    From where my eminent guests are gathered."

 A group of Turkic musicians played their four-stringed lutes and their wether drums. Uncle Hsuan, more excited than any of the guests, took a wether drum from the hands of one of the musicians and began to play. We all clapped and cheered as he beat on the small laquered drum. I was astonished by his expertise, and how he handled the drum with a sense of ownership. "Uncle, I never knew you could play the wether drum!" I exclaimed after he returned the instrument to its owner, and sat back down. He smiled as he wiped beads of sweat from his brow, then replied, "I never knew I could, either." After my uncle's performance, the group slowly began to disperse. I bid him goodbye before heading to the polo game, where I would see him again, not as a lively reveler, but as an aggressive competitor.

The Polo Game

I arrived at the polo game late, so I had a difficult time finding a place to sit where I had a decent view of Uncle Hsuan. Finding no seats near the front, I resorted to sitting on a wooden crate beside a bench, which creaked precariously as I climbed onto it. My uncle emerged onto the battlefield on a snow-white Arabian steed, meeting his opponent head on. Seeing the horse brought to mind a poem I read by Tu Fu:

    "Lean in build, like the point of a lance;
    Two ears sharp as bamboo square;
    Four hoofs light as though born of the wind.
    Heading away across the endless spaces,
    Truly, you may entrust him with your life..."

The crowd roared excitedly as dirt, stones and war cries filled the air. I became so absorbed in the game that I forgot about the instability of the crate. I fell to the ground with a crash as the crate suddenly broke apart. Little stars orbited around my head as shards of wood fell about me. A familiar voice spoke to me, breaking through the tension of my stupor, then I was lifted to my feet. As my vision cleared, I recognized the face. "Wang Wei? Is that you?"
    "Yes. Are you alright?"
Ignoring his question, I extended out my hand. "I'm Wang Shi-Ren. I've heard you recite your poetry before the Emperor." He smiled, then picked up the scroll that had fallen from my pocket and handed it to me. "I see that you are a poet, too." I smiled and nodded eagerly. What an honor to be recognized as a poet by a man who was such a great poet himself!

"Well, I am having a gathering at my retreat tonight.  I'd love to have you come and share some of your poetry with Li Po and I, as well as a few other guests."

"I would be honored!"

He gave me directions to the retreat, then we took leave of each other. Seeing that I had a great deal of time before the gathering, I decided to travel through the city in search of inspiration.