“Haha, Young Lord Su is right. A person must know their limits.”
“Poetry is the business of scholars. If you can’t even recognize a few characters, don’t bother trying to join in.”
“Young Lord Qian should just accompany the Young Marquis and enjoy wine with the courtesans. Don’t disgrace the art of literature.”
The crowd echoed Su Wencai’s mockery with more ridicule.
Qian Duoduo’s chubby cheeks were puffed up like a pig’s liver, but Su Wencai’s family was too influential—he couldn’t afford to offend him. Even if he was angry, he had to bottle it up.
“Gentlemen, since Young Lord Su won the first round, let’s have him present the second topic,” Du Niang once again helped smooth things over.
Everyone withdrew their gazes and turned to Su Wencai.
Su Wencai thought briefly and smiled, “We are all scholars, and we should aspire to serve in the court and rise to power. For the second round, let’s take ‘Aspiration’ as the topic.”
“A scholar must have lofty ambitions. Young Lord Su’s topic is well chosen.”
“Brilliant topic from Young Lord Su.”
“Young Lord Su is truly a man of great learning…”
A chorus of flattery surrounded him.
“Since no one objects, then the second round shall begin with the topic ‘Aspiration.’ Start the timer,” Du Niang said, and signaled Ping’er, who lit a new stick of incense and placed it into the burner.
The hall quickly fell silent as the scholars began to contemplate deeply.
The one who set the topic clearly had the advantage. Su Wencai looked completely relaxed, confident and composed. Yet he didn’t rush to write, instead watching with a look of amusement.
This theme was clearly more difficult than the previous one, ‘Moon.’ A long while passed before anyone dared to go on stage.
Soon after, Su Wencai, Li Zihao, and Wang Lun each took their turn to write. Sun Xiucai also went up to compose one.
Very soon, the incense burned near its end. This round, only eight people had gone on stage—half the number of the previous round.
“Time’s nearly up. Gentlemen, please hurry,” Du Niang reminded.
At that moment, Ji Huaian stood up and walked directly onto the stage.
Being publicly looked down upon by Su Wencai moments ago had left him frustrated. Since he had reincarnated, and now had both wealth and power, why should he endure humiliation? It’s just a poem. What’s there to fear?
Seeing the Young Marquis step onto the stage, everyone widened their eyes in disbelief.
“The Young Marquis is writing a poem? Am I seeing things?”
“Didn’t Young Lord Su just praise him for knowing his limits? Looks like he was wrong.”
“Sigh… disgraceful. Truly disgraceful.”
“Haha, we’re in for a good show now.”
The young lords whispered among themselves, careful not to let the Young Marquis hear.
He wasn’t Qian Duoduo. He wasn’t someone they could afford to offend.
Su Wencai narrowed his eyes at Ji Huaian. A trace of displeasure flashed through them. He had just told them not to get involved, and now Ji Huaian was doing exactly that. Clearly, he was being provoked.
“Su, just treat it like a clown performance. Something to amuse us while we drink,” Li Zihao said with a smirk. New chapters come out on g.com first.
“Indeed, a bit of entertainment to liven up the wine,” Wang Lun echoed.
As Ji Huaian approached, even Du Niang was momentarily stunned. It wasn’t until he picked up the brush to write that she snapped out of it and walked over to watch.
Anyone observant would notice Du Niang’s expression slowly turning strange as she watched the Young Marquis compose his poem—it was quite similar to the expression she wore while observing Qian Duoduo earlier.
Soon, Ji Huaian put down his brush and smiled at the courtesan, “Du Niang, how’s my poem?”
“A fine poem. The Young Marquis has truly surprised me…” Du Niang smiled at him seductively, her gaze enough to stir the soul.
Ji Huaian leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “Tonight, I’ll be with you.”
Her smile froze on her face.
Ji Huaian laughed heartily and returned to his seat.
“Young Marquis, you’re amazing!” Qian Duoduo gave him a big thumbs-up.
Ji Huaian raised a cup of wine and downed it in one go, sitting back to enjoy the upcoming show.
“Miss, time’s up,” Ping’er reminded.
Du Niang snapped out of it and glanced at the now-burned incense. She turned to the crowd and said, “The quarter hour has passed. Let the second round of judging begin.”
This time, including Ji Huaian’s poem, there were only nine in total.
Nine maids each held up one poem and stood in a row for the gentlemen to evaluate.
“Today I raise my jade brush, tomorrow I’ll ascend the jade terrace… this one has spirit.”
“Mountains and rivers are like a painting, we must strive to rise… this one is too much like a copy of Li Bai.”
They critiqued each poem in turn, but in the end, they all gathered around one in particular.
“This is a magnificent poem…”
“Not just magnificent, it’s a masterpiece.”
“This poem will surely be passed down through the generations.”
“Who wrote this?”
“No need to ask. It must be Young Lord Su.”
“Who else but Young Lord Su could write such bold and lofty verses?”
“Young Lord Su truly has aspirations reaching the heavens. I deeply admire him.”
Su Wencai, Li Zihao, and Wang Lun remained seated, not even bothering to go up for a look.
In their eyes, none of the others were worth reading.
Seeing the crowd surrounding one poem with such admiration, Li Zihao smiled and said, “Congratulations, Su, on another brilliant piece.”
Su Wencai’s face glowed with pride as he smiled smugly, “Just a casual work. Nothing special.”
“Your casual work is enough for all scholars in Jiangnan to look up to,” Wang Lun praised.
“With Su here, Wang and I are just background characters. Looks like Du Niang tonight will belong to Su,” Li Zihao grinned lecherously.
Wang Lun glanced at the beautiful Du Niang and said softly, “She sells her art, not her body. If you want to win her over, you’ll have to put in effort tonight.” Read this novel at NovelPing for the best experience.
Su Wencai also looked at Du Niang and laughed shamelessly, “There’s no woman I can’t handle. Tonight, she’s mine.”
“Then let us congratulate you in advance…”
The three of them whispered among themselves.
Soon, the judging results were finalized.
Du Niang turned toward them and asked, “The result is in. Would the three gentlemen like to share their thoughts?”
“No need. Everyone here is a scholar of Jiangnan. I trust their judgment,” Su Wencai said with a smile.
“Du Niang, please display the winning poem so we may all admire Su’s poetic talent,” Li Zihao added.
Du Niang gave Su Wencai a strange look, then nodded and signaled the maids to bring the poem forward.
Two maids unfurled the scroll.
Li Zihao began reciting with great flair:
“The roc rises on the wind one day,
Soaring high, ninety thousand meters away.
Even if the wind should drop and fail,
It could still stir the sea with its tail.
The world sees me as out of tune,
Mocking loudly when I sing a new tune.
But Confucius still feared youth’s might,
A true man cannot be judged by age or height.”
Li Zihao paused, then exclaimed in awe, “These verses are majestic and bold—truly a masterpiece.”
“Su, you’re a genius. This poem will live forever,” Wang Lun added.
“Congratulations, Young Lord Su, on writing a timeless piece.”
“I could never write something like this in my entire life. Your talent leaves us in awe.”
“Young Lord Su is a true poet…”
Praise filled the hall.
But soon, someone noticed something strange—Su Wencai’s face had turned dark.
Just moments ago, he had looked smug and confident. Now, his expression was grim.
“Wait… this poem… was it not written by Young Lord Su?”
Several people had already guessed the truth.