Everyone watched as Chen Fan began to speak, their gazes fixed on him.
Yet almost every pair of eyes was filled with disdain and mockery, believing that Chen Fan was merely humiliating himself and making a fool of himself.
After all, what could a good-for-nothing playboy who had been publicly rejected in marriage possibly write?
But Chen Fan remained calm and composed, speaking with earnest sincerity as he continued.
“Her form is light as a startled swan, graceful as a swimming dragon. Her radiance outshines autumn chrysanthemums, her vitality surpasses spring pines.
She is like a wisp of cloud veiling the moon, drifting like swirling snow in the wind.
From afar, she gleams like the sun rising through morning clouds; up close, she glows like a lotus emerging from clear waters.”
…
Upon hearing this, everyone’s expressions suddenly changed, including Lian Yue’s—all wore looks of astonishment.
“Like a wisp of cloud veiling the moon, drifting like swirling snow in the wind.”
What kind of divine verse was this?
They were all talented young scholars, naturally aware of the profound depth of such lines. Even if they racked their brains, they could never produce such celestial poetry.
Yet these words had come from Chen Fan’s mouth.
How was that possible?
How could a playboy compose such verses?
But Chen Fan did not stop, continuing, “Her figure is perfectly proportioned, neither too slender nor too full. Her shoulders are delicately shaped, her waist as slender as a silk ribbon.”
…
“Her cloud-like hair is piled high, her long eyebrows finely arched. Red lips glow brightly, white teeth gleam within. Bright eyes sparkle with charm, dimpled cheeks complement her grace. Her beauty is enchanting, her demeanor serene and composed. Gentle and graceful in manner, her speech is captivating.”
…
Gradually, the crowd’s expressions turned to sheer amazement.
What kind of peerless beauty could possibly match the description Chen Fan had just given?
And what kind of divine language was this?
Was he writing about Lian Yue?
Could this truly be Chen Fan’s impression upon first seeing Lian Yue?
…
“Mourning the eternal end of our joyous meeting, I grieve our parting to distant lands. With no subtle feelings to express my love, I offer the bright jade of the south. Though dwelling in the depths of shadow, my heart remains forever with my lord.”
…
“I shall return to the eastern road, taking the reins and raising the whip, yet lingering in sorrow, unable to depart.”
Finally, Chen Fan stopped.
But the hall fell into complete silence, as if everyone had been immersed in Chen Fan’s poetic composition, unable to break free!
Throughout the entire piece, the language was resplendent, the descriptions exquisite, the imagination rich, and the emotions tender and lingering, as if conveying a deeper meaning.
In the form of an illusion, it narrated a love between a mortal and a goddess, ultimately ending in sorrowful separation due to the divide between their worlds.
The verses were ornate yet not excessive, carrying a freshness and elegance unmatched by others.
In terms of parallelism, antithesis, rhythm, and language—precise, refined, vivid, elegant—the composition and conception were unparalleled.
Could this truly have been written by a playboy?
One by one, they could hardly believe it!
And Lian Yue was completely immersed in the tale of mortal and divine love within the poem, yet separated by their different natures, unable to unite as lovers—a regret that left her captivated for a long time!
It felt as though Chen Fan was writing about her and himself, expressing the sorrow he felt that they could not be together. Though the entire piece was a fantasy, it was enough to move her deeply.
But Lin Feng, standing to the side, wore a puzzled expression, unable to understand what was happening to everyone.
What were all these strange expressions?
Was Chen Fan’s writing really that good?
He didn’t think so.
He couldn’t even understand what had been written, and some of the words he had never even heard before. How could it be considered good?
“Miss Lian Yue, I have embarrassed myself. I wonder if this ‘Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River’ meets your approval?”
At that moment, Chen Fan looked directly at Lian Yue on the stage.
Hearing his words, everyone snapped back to reality and turned their gaze to Lian Yue, but in their hearts, they knew very well—tonight, Lian Yue belonged to Chen Fan!
If even this poetic composition fails to impress Lian Yue, then she truly is toying with them.
“Master Chen’s literary talent is astonishing, his brilliance unparalleled. This composition is nothing short of divine. I, a woman of shallow learning, dare not presume to critique it. However, this piece has deeply captured my heart, and I would be honored to spend this beautiful night with Master Chen!”
With that, Lian Yue rose directly to her feet, holding her pipa as she bowed respectfully toward Chen Fan.
Hearing this, the crowd was not the least bit surprised.
But Lin Feng suddenly panicked. “Lian Yue, what do you mean by this?”
“What he wrote is utter nonsense! Why should it earn your favor? If such rubbish can catch your eye, then why didn’t Mr. Li Wen’s earlier piece? I think you’re deliberately helping him because of our bet! Don’t think I can’t see through it!”
Lian Yue, however, looked utterly speechless. How ignorant must one be to think Chen Fan’s composition was nonsense?
Yet she had no desire to argue with Lin Feng. “My preference is merely my personal choice. If Young Master Lin believes Master Chen’s work is poor, you may ask the esteemed guests here to judge, or even invite Mr. Li Wen himself to evaluate it!”
Upon hearing this, Lin Feng wanted to say more but was immediately stopped by the young man beside him.
“Young Master Lin, don’t humiliate yourself further. Chen Fan’s composition is extraordinary—even my master might not be able to write something like it! If you continue like this, others will think you lack talent!”
Lin Feng’s expression shifted abruptly. Who was this young man’s master? None other than the great Confucian scholar of the court, Mr. Li Wen.
Yet he claimed even Li Wen might not be able to write such a piece.
What did that mean?
Was Chen Fan’s composition truly that exceptional?
At that moment, Chen Fan deliberately spoke up again. “Young Master Lin, son of the wealthiest man in the Two Prefectures, surely you wouldn’t try to renege on a mere ten thousand taels, would you?”
“You!”
Lin Feng was suddenly at a loss for words.
But in his heart, he couldn’t fathom how Chen Fan—a wastrel who often indulged in revelry with him—could possibly write such a composition.
He refused to believe it!
“Chen Fan! I don’t believe you wrote this! How could a good-for-nothing who was even jilted in marriage write something like this? You must have plagiarized it from somewhere!” Lin Feng declared.
Hearing this, the crowd’s expressions also shifted.
That’s right!
How could a wastrel possibly write such an excellent composition?
He must have copied it!
In an instant, the looks directed at Chen Fan turned suspicious and disdainful.
“Is that so? Then go investigate! See who I copied it from!”
Chen Fan spoke impatiently and added, “Besides, aren’t all those present here claiming to be brilliant and erudite? If I had plagiarized it, how could none of them have heard of it before?”
“Hmph!”
“It must be because the original author is obscure, so no one knows of it. Aren’t you capable of writing? If you have the skill, write another one! If you can produce another, I’ll admit defeat and pay the bet!” Lin Feng challenged.
Only then did Chen Fan feel that the ten-thousand-tael bet was too small—this prodigal son was practically delivering himself to his doorstep.
If he refused now, it would seem he lacked charm!
“It’s not impossible, but in that case, the wager would increase to one hundred thousand taels! Do you dare?”
“Why wouldn’t I dare!”
“But if you fail to produce one, I’ll break your legs!” Lin Feng threatened.
“Agreed!” Chen Fan replied disdainfully.
Yet, seeing Chen Fan’s confident demeanor, Lin Feng still felt uneasy and added, “And to prevent you from copying someone else’s work again, I must be the one to set the topic!”
“Set the challenge!” Chen Fan said.
“Since it’s for Miss Lian Yue, let the theme be the moon—compose a poem! You have the time it takes for one incense stick to burn!”
As Lin Feng spoke, he immediately ordered someone to light the incense.
He simply refused to believe that Chen Fan, a wastrel like himself, could possess any genuine talent.
Moreover, there was only the time it took for one incense stick to burn!
Yet Chen Fan paid no mind. He picked up a cup of wine, pretending to ponder deeply, wondering which immortal he should call upon for inspiration.