, "Remembering My Late Father on a Snowy Day in Qiantang," is completed.

Liang Shanbo did not spend the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

A moment later, he straightened his clothes, placed his hands on his knees, and slowly stood up.

As he stood up, all eyes in the pavilion turned to him.

Liang Shanbo bowed to Zhu Tao, Chen Mao, and Meng Wenlang, then looked at Zhu Tao and said in a clear voice, "My lord, I have already composed a poem."

Zhu Tao nodded: "You've got it in just a quarter of an hour? Good, then write it down."

Immediately, Liang Shanbo left his seat and walked back to the center of the pavilion.

This time, Zhu Yingtai was not with him.

He walked alone, his steps unhurried, passing through the gazes of the entire pavilion.

Those gazes—some curious, some scrutinizing, some admiring, some indifferent, and some tinged with jealousy—all fell upon him.

He seemed completely unaware, simply continuing to walk steadily.

He knelt down behind the low desk, picked up his brush, dipped it in ink on the inkstone, and then lowered his head to write down the title of the poem.

Remembering My Late Father on a Snowy Day in Qiantang!

After writing the title, he did not immediately write the poem. Instead, he dipped his brush in ink a second time and wrote a short preface.

"On a snowy day, I accompanied my teacher to the 'Qingyin Collection of Winter' in Qiantang. The elder asked me to compose a poem on the theme of snow. At that time, I thought of my late father living in our old home in Shanyin. He had spent his life working as a scribe, and whenever there was wind and snow, he would brave the cold and return home late. Three years ago, on a snowy night, my father passed away. I am now a stranger in this foreign land, so I wrote this poem."

It means that on a snowy day, I accompanied my teacher to the Qiantang Suihan Qingyin Gathering. During the gathering, an elder asked us to compose a poem on the theme of snow, and I couldn't help but think of my late father.

My father lived in our old house in Shanyin, making a living by copying documents for others. Whenever there was a snowstorm, he would brave the bitter cold and return home very late. Three years ago, on a snowy winter night, my father passed away from illness. Now, living far from home, I have written this poem.

After finishing the preface, Liang Shanbo paused on the paper with his pen before picking it up again, dipping it in ink, and writing down the poem.

"The sun sets over distant, green mountains; the sky is cold, and the white houses are poor."

A dog barks at the thatched gate; a traveler returns home on a snowy night.

Finally, he still signed the poem with three words: Liang Shanbo!

After he finished writing, he gently placed the pen on the inkstone, lowered his head, blew on the ink on the paper, then placed the poem on a corner of the desk, stood up, bowed to his elders, and turned to walk back to his seat.

A servant stepped forward, held the manuscript in both hands, and respectfully handed it to Zhu Tao.

Zhu Tao took the poem and looked down at it.

He first saw the title of the poem, "Remembering My Late Father on a Snowy Day in Qiantang," and then read the short preface.

The preface is short, consisting of only a few dozen words.

"Scribing" was a profession that impoverished scholars relied on to make a living. They copied letters for others and earned a few copper coins to survive. This job was exhausting and mentally taxing, with meager and unstable income. They had to go out even on snowy days, because if they didn't go out, they wouldn't have money, and without money, they wouldn't have food to eat.

It turns out that Liang Shanbo's father was such a person.

The father died of illness on a snowy night.

Zhu Tao turned his gaze to the following lines of poetry.

"The sun sets over distant, verdant mountains; the sky is cold, and the humble dwellings are poor."

What are these two lines describing? They describe the green mountains, the sunset, the cold weather, and the white houses.

The Cangshan Mountains are far away, beyond the edge of twilight, indistinct and unreachable. The white house is poor, so poor that all that remains are four mud walls and a thatched door. The sky is cold, a bone-chilling, heart-wrenching cold.

This is Liang Shanbo's home, located deep in an inconspicuous alley in Shanyin County, Kuaiji. It is a low-lying courtyard with earthen walls, three thatched huts, and mottled mud walls.

"A dog barks at the thatched gate; a traveler returns home on a snowy night."

What are these two lines describing? They describe a thatched gate, a dog barking, wind and snow, and returning home at night.

That "returning person" is Liang Shanbo's father, the poor scholar who made a living by writing, and the one who finally returned home on a snowy night.

After reading the poem, Zhu Tao pondered for a moment before handing it to Chen Mao.

Chen Mao carefully read the poem manuscript and then handed it to Meng Wenlang.

Meng Wenlang also carefully read the poem manuscript.

These three elders were all moved by the poem without prior arrangement!

Zhu Tao said to Chen Mao, "I trouble you, Brother Minze, to read it aloud once, so that all the verses in the preface may be heard by everyone present."

Chen Mao nodded, held the poem in his hands, cleared his throat, and began to read it aloud.

He first read the title of the poem, then the preface, and finally recited the poem itself.

After reading it, whispers arose in the pavilion, initially heard in a few places, but soon spread throughout.

Zhu Yingtai knelt beside Liang Shanbo, tears welling up in her eyes without her realizing it.

She knew that Brother Liang came from a poor family, that his father had died early, and that his mother toiled alone at home in Shanyin, weaving cloth. Because she knew this, she felt Brother Liang's poem even more deeply.

She raised her sleeve, quietly pressed the corner of her eye, and then pressed it again.

Suddenly, Sun Datian exclaimed, "Excellent poem! This son's father had a hard life, making a living with his pen, braving the cold to return home late, and dying of illness on a snowy night—truly a poor scholar. This son's filial piety is commendable; at this gathering, he honestly writes about his father and his family. I am a rough man, but I believe this is the truly excellent poem!"

Xiao Zhen nodded and said loudly, "I really like this poem. The last line, 'A dog barks at the thatched gate, a traveler returns home on a snowy night,' vividly captures the scene. The snow and wind of that night, and that dog's bark, are still vivid in my mind."

The two men suddenly began to admire the poem, not only because Sun Yuangui and Xiao Hu had just asked for their help, but also because they were genuinely moved by it.

Chen Mao listened to their conversation, nodded slightly, turned to Chu Wenju, and asked with a smile, "What does Master Chu think of this poem?"

Chu Wenju was taken aback.

He was also moved by "Remembering My Late Father on a Snowy Day in Qiantang".

However, after a moment of silence, he slowly said, "This poem is moving in its emotion and touching in its filial piety, but it is still not a metaphysical poem. It is still clear and austere, simple and lacking in literary style."

Chen Mao turned his gaze to Liang Shanbo and asked with a smile, "Nephew Liang, your poem is sincere and deeply moving. However, some gentlemen still doubt whether it touches upon profound philosophical principles. I would like to ask you, does this poem also contain profound philosophical principles?"

Liang Shanbo stood up, bowed to Chen Mao, and calmly said, "Reporting to Your Excellency, this poem is mainly written in remembrance of my late father. However, it does contain elements of metaphysics."

He slowly said, "The Zhuangzi, in the chapter 'The Great Master,' says: 'The Great Clod gives me form, burdens me with life, eases me in old age, and rests me in death.' My late father toiled his whole life, making a living with his pen and ink, and would brave the cold to go out whenever there was wind and snow. His life was one of 'burdening me with life'; his departure was a departure of 'resting me in death.'"

Zhuangzi spoke of following nature. My late father, however, was different. Knowing full well the wind and snow were biting, he still braved the cold to go out. This was not following nature, but rather "doing what he knew was impossible." This is the steadfastness of a Confucian scholar, and a father's responsibility to his family.

"A dog barks at the thatched gate, a traveler returns on a snowy night." In these last two lines, the younger generation has hidden the word "nothing." The poem doesn't explicitly state whether the late father stepped through the thatched gate; the dog's bark is calling for the returning traveler. But that traveler will never return. This unspoken meaning is "nothingness."

The woman standing behind the thatched gate in the poem is my mother. She waits for someone to return on a snowy night. This kind of waiting creates something from nothing. Though she is gone, she lives on in the hearts of those who remember her.

This is the meaning of "those who die but do not perish live on," meaning that with a finite form, one undertakes an endless task; with the emptiness of one person, one provides sustenance for a family. Although my late father has passed away, his legacy remains. I, his junior, commemorate this in poetry, which is the profound truth I have come to understand.

After he finished speaking, he bowed properly, straightened up, and remained calm and composed.