Order in the Literary Mind, I Am a Man of Integrity

The Great Zhou dynasty is at the height of its imperial examinations, and scholars from humble families compete for the chance to rise to prominence.

My name is Xie Lin, courtesy name Ziyan. My writing astonishes the world, and I never forget what I have read.

But if my inkstone is even slightly crooked, I cannot sleep. My fastidiousness has become an illness.

The world calls me arrogant, a charming face-lover who refuses to bow to the powerful.

At court, Pei Jingzhi hides a blade behind his smile; at the academy, Shen Zhiyi conceals her sharpness behind a gentle manner.

A prophetess from the northern frontier looks at me and says, “Your heart is a clear mirror, yet you will drown in the net of love.”

I laugh it off, but unexpectedly gain a golden finger.

A library lies in my mind, where thousands of volumes are automatically catalogued. The flow of literary energy lets me read people's hearts.

I sort memorials by color. Disorder in government begins with disorderly files.

I can see through hypocrisy and expose conspiracies, taking one clear step at a time.

While others study for ten years, I can produce a polished essay as soon as I pick up my brush.

While they fight for fame and fortune, I have already seen where the court's fortunes are headed.

Caught in a tangle of romantic entanglements, I neither play with people's feelings nor let myself be trapped.

With my Daoist heart unbroken, no beauty can bring me to ruin.

Three years later, order has returned to the realm, and I stand at the pinnacle of the court.

A corrupt age needs a clear mirror; a chaotic age needs an honest voice.

And I am that honest voice.