Inside the painted pleasure boat, the sound of strings and flutes rose again.
The dancers’ long sleeves fluttered, their songs seductive, yet they could no longer gather the scattered hearts within the cabin.
Everyone’s gaze, intentionally or unintentionally, drifted toward the young man in blue standing beside the Prince, head bowed in attendance.
The Prince leaned back on the soft couch, idly tapping a wine cup before him with an ivory chopstick.
“You rascal, come, drink!”
Feng Yuan immediately picked up his half-cup of wine and downed it in one gulp.
Gradually, a perfectly appropriate flush spread across his face, and his eyes took on a hint of intoxication.
“The Prince’s wine is like immortal dew and fine nectar; for this humble commoner to have one cup is already a great blessing. I am about to get drunk.”
The Prince smiled, his laughter carrying a hint of amusement.
“Men of letters and scholars have always been romantic. Without intoxication, where would good poetry come from? Without wildness, where would good lines come from?”
He sat up straight, his gaze sharp.
“I am in high spirits today, so you shall compose another poem to entertain me!”
This declaration startled everyone present.
Jia Yucun’s heart sank completely.
His previous responses had already pushed his quick-wittedness to the limit.
To be asked to compose a poem on the spot, especially in front of the Prince, was like roasting him over a fire.
Poetry, above all things, relies on inspiration.
If done well, it is icing on the cake.
If done poorly, it would be like failing to draw a tiger and ending up with a dog, and all the goodwill built up moments ago would vanish without a trace.
Feng Yuan, however, seemed not to notice the danger inherent in the request.
He staggered a step, as if truly drunk.
He did not look at the Prince, nor did he look at the officials with their varied expressions.
He turned around, facing the Qinhuai River water illuminated by the lamps, and then looked up at the moon in the sky.
He thought to himself, “Move aside, I’m about to put on a show.”
He suddenly snatched the entire wine pot from the Prince’s table and took a large gulp.
Wine streamed down the corner of his mouth, soaking his blue robe.
“Good wine!”
He roared, slamming the wine pot heavily onto the floor.
His eyes, which had been clear moments before, now seemed to ignite with two flames.
He spread his arms wide, as if to embrace heaven and earth.
“Do you not see the Yellow River water descending from heaven, rushing to the sea never to return!”
He began to speak.
His voice was high-pitched, carrying a sense of desolation and heroism.
Everyone froze.
The opening was so magnificent, like a celestial river pouring down, like ten thousand horses galloping.
“Do you not see the bright mirror in the high hall mourning white hair, turning from black silk at dawn to snow at dusk!”
Feng Yuan’s tone shifted, now imbued with endless sorrow.
The brevity of life and the ruthlessness of time were depicted vividly in these two lines of poetry.
The lazy smile on the Prince’s face disappeared.
The hand holding the wine cup paused mid-air.
“When life is good, one must enjoy it to the fullest; do not let the golden goblet stand empty before the moon.”
“Heaven gave me talent, it must be of use; I will scatter a thousand pieces of gold and they will return again!”
Feng Yuan burst into loud laughter, his mirth unrestrained.
He pointed at the delicacies on the table, and at the people in the cabin.
“Let us roast sheep and slaughter oxen for pleasure; we must drink three hundred cups in one sitting!”
He grabbed the dumbfounded Jia Yucun standing beside him.
“I will sing a song for you, please lend me your ear to listen!”
Jia Yucun stiffened all over, not knowing what to do.
“Bells, drums, fine food, and jade are not worth valuing; I only wish to be perpetually drunk and never wake.”
“Since ancient times, all Sages and virtuous people have been lonely; only the drinkers leave their names behind!”
The cabin fell into a deathly silence.
Everyone was shaken to their core by the ultimate arrogance and disdain in these verses.
Bells, drums, fine food, and jade, high office and great wealth—none were worth valuing?
What audacious words!
The Prince’s expression turned somewhat excited.
He was completely immersed in his own world now.
He staggered over to the Prince, snatched the wine cup from his hand, and drank it all down.
“The King of Chen once held a banquet at Pingle, indulging in merriment with ten thousand coins worth of wine.”
“Why does the host say he lacks money? He should simply go buy more to drink with you!”
“Five-flowered horses, thousand-gold furs—call the servants to bring them out and exchange them for fine wine, so we may dissolve the sorrow of ages together!”
That sorrow, that wildness, that unwillingness to submit, struck everyone’s heart like a heavy hammer.
Especially the Prince.
He was a Prince, possessing wealth beyond measure, but did he not also harbor that ‘sorrow of ages’ in his heart?
The poetry ended, the voice ceased.
Feng Yuan’s body swayed, and he fell straight backward.
“Bang!”
He collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
“Hmph, the essential ‘Song of Drinking’ for a transmigrator really has thirteen levels of skill.”
Jia Yucun scrambled to help him up.
“Slap!”
A sharp crack.
The Prince smashed the wine cup in his hand violently onto the floor, shattering it to pieces.
He suddenly stood up and laughed loudly.
“Good! A magnificent ‘so we may dissolve the sorrow of ages together’!”
He walked to Feng Yuan’s side and looked down at the youth passed out on the ground.
His gaze was incredibly complex, containing admiration, apprehension, and a trace of… resonance.
“Someone come.”
“Take Young Master Feng back to his residence carefully.”
“Tell him that this Prince remembers him.”
In the carriage on the way back.
Feng Yuan remained ‘unconscious,’ while Jia Yucun sat beside him, fidgeting nervously.
Halfway through the journey, Feng Yuan slowly ‘woke up.’
He rubbed his head, looking utterly bewildered.
“Sir, I… what happened to me? I think… I drank too much…”
Jia Yucun looked at him, his lips moving, but he didn't know what to say.
Should he scold him for his audacity, or praise his unparalleled talent?
In the end, he could only let out a long sigh.
“Feng Yuan, oh Feng Yuan, do you know what great trouble you caused tonight, and what great opportunity you seized?”
“Student… Student does not know.” Feng Yuan looked fearful.
“Do you know who that Prince is?”
“This student is dull-witted.”
Jia Yucun leaned closer to him, lowering his voice, speaking each word deliberately.
“That is Prince Zhongshun.”
Feng Yuan’s body trembled almost imperceptibly.
“The current Emperor’s full brother.”
“Back then, he and the current Emperor, they were…” Jia Yucun stopped halfway through, glancing suspiciously out the window.
“In short, remember this. That man holds immense power and his temperament is unpredictable. Gaining his favor is your fortune. But if you take one wrong step, it will be an abyss ten thousand feet deep.”
Feng Yuan lowered his head, appearing receptive to the advice.
“Thank you for the guidance, Sir. This student… will keep it firmly in mind.”
However, a massive storm was brewing in his heart.
Prince Zhongshun.
It really was him.
That ruthless character from the original story who dared to lead men to search the Duke's Residence over an actor.
It seems the Prince and the Jia Family are at odds?
He had somehow gotten entangled in this connection.