The room fell into a silent atmosphere.
Although it wasn’t the Mid-Autumn poem everyone had expected, this topic wasn’t difficult to write.
Of course, whether it was easy or hard to write was a matter for the literati, and as for those young masters, they just had to wait for their literati to present their poems.
If the poem was good, they would definitely be heavily rewarded, and if it was bad, they would either be scolded or even have their heads chopped off.
It’s that simple.
A group of literati guests gazed at Yang Liu Shi, who seemed a bit tired but exuded a languid, alluring charm. Inspired, they began to compose poems, their minds overflowing with words of praise, waiting to be arranged.
Before long, one of them had finished a poem.
He leaned in to whisper a few lines to the young master, likely reciting his newly composed poem to impress him.
However, the young master, He Gongzi, who ran a money-changing business, furrowed his brow, hesitating as if he couldn’t memorize the poem.
After several attempts, he gave up, and with a glance, the guest immediately understood and loudly declared:
“Miss Yang Liu Shi, my young master has composed a poem, and I’m honored to recite it for you.”
“Thank you, He Gongzi. I’m all ears.”
Yang Liu Shi, of course, wouldn’t expose the truth, smiling at He Gongzi as if the poem were truly his creation.
The guest’s voice echoed clearly in the room:
“A thousand autumns without a single flaw,”
“A beauty to behold is a delight to the eyes.”
“A nation-toppling beauty,”
“A marvel to all under heaven.”
The four-line poem, with twenty characters, was quickly recited.
Some people’s eyes lit up, but most simply raised an eyebrow.
“A thousand autumns without a flaw,” “A beauty to behold is a delight to the eyes,” “A nation-toppling beauty,” and “A marvel to all under heaven.”
This poem was created by adding a single character to each of four idioms, which could be seen as clever or shallow.
More importantly, the second and fourth lines ended with the same character, strictly speaking, not adhering to poetic rules.
Therefore, overall, it could only be considered mediocre.
Yang Liu Shi praised the poem with a few words, then fell silent, clearly not impressed.
He Gongzi’s face instantly turned unpleasant, while others gained confidence, and soon a second person stood up to present a poem.
“Miss Yang Liu Shi, please listen to my young master’s poem!”
“I’m all ears.”
“…”
One poem after another, over ten poems were soon presented.
Although the subsequent poems were slightly better than the first, they could only be considered passable.
Though they were new poems, they lacked novelty, merely rearranging words.
Wei Chang Tian was about to fall asleep, but Yang Zong Liang suddenly stood up.
As a member of the Yang family, his standing up silenced everyone.
Unlike others, Yang Zong Liang didn’t bother with small talk, simply shaking out his sleeves before loudly reciting:
“The lotus doesn’t surpass the beauty’s makeup,”
“The water palace’s wind brings the fragrance of pearls and jade.”
“Who can share the hidden sorrow of autumn fans,”
“Awaiting the bright moon, the king’s decree is announced.”
“…”
The room fell silent for a few seconds before someone slammed their hand on the table, their face flushed with excitement, exclaiming: “What a great poem!!”
Following his lead, others reacted, and soon the room was filled with applause.
The young masters were mostly trying to curry favor with Yang Zong Liang, while the literati genuinely thought the poem was excellent.
The first two lines used lotus, pearls, and jade to describe the beauty’s appearance, although the idea was unoriginal, the writing was natural and effortless, without any pretension.
The last two lines were even more remarkable, elevating the entire poem to a higher level.
Who can compare to the autumn fan, suspended in the bright moonlight, awaiting the king’s arrival.
By likening people to the bright moon awaiting the king’s arrival, it subtly implies that even the emperor would be impressed by Yang Liu’s poem… This is undoubtedly a great honor for a courtesan.
If this poem wasn’t prepared in advance, it can only be explained by one thing—
The poet’s talent is extraordinary.
Listening to the crowd’s praise, Liu Zongliang felt pleased and slightly proud as he gazed at Yang Liu’s poem.
“Master Liu…”
Yang Liu was taken aback for a moment before smiling coyly: “It seems I belong to you tonight.”
Although the audience was in an uproar, no one had any objections.
It’s true that there’s no first place in literature, but that’s only said when the difference between articles and poems is negligible.
Now, Liu Zongliang’s poem was obviously superior to others by several levels, so naturally, no one would dare to challenge him.
Liu Zongliang was overjoyed upon hearing this, but soon, Yang Liu continued: “But I wonder which guest at the mansion wrote this poem. Please, Master Liu, tell me…”
Her tone was still soft and gentle, but these words instantly made Liu Zongliang’s face change from white to red, then to green, leaving him in a difficult predicament.
If he said he wrote the poem, no one would believe him, and he would appear deceitful.
But if he admitted it wasn’t his, he would lose face…
After thinking for a while, Liu Zongliang finally pointed to a young man in the crowd, forcing a smile.
“Miss Yang, it was written by this gentleman.”
“Oh?”
Yang Liu turned to look, her eyes filled with gentle affection: “I didn’t know this gentleman had such poetic talent. What’s his esteemed name?”
“You’re overpraising me, Miss.”
The young man stepped forward, speaking calmly: “I’m just a guest at the Liu mansion.”
“Are you not willing to tell me your name, sir?” Yang Liu’s voice was sorrowful.
“This…”
The young man glanced at Liu Zongliang’s pale face before finally succumbing to the beauty’s temptation, proudly answering: “My name is Qin Yu, and I’m a disciple of Su Wu!”
The crowd erupted in surprise.
Who is Su Wu? The Poetry Saint!
So, the young man in front of them, with his ordinary appearance, was actually a disciple of the Poetry Saint?
No wonder he had such poetic talent!
Amidst the commotion, Yang Liu revealed a hint of surprise, her gaze seemingly softer towards Qin Yu.
Liu Zongliang, on the other hand, felt a sense of foreboding, fearing that if this continued, Yang Liu might change her mind and sleep with Qin Yu instead. He hastily asked loudly: “Are there any more poems to present?”
“…”
The commotion stopped, and no one spoke.
Although half of the people still hadn’t recited their poems, everyone knew that since there was already a masterpiece, presenting more poems would be embarrassing.
“Okay, since there aren’t any…”
Liu Zongliang couldn’t wait, and after a brief pause, he was about to announce the end of the poetry gathering.
But just then, Wei Changtian, who had remained silent throughout, finally spoke up.
“What’s the rush, trying to reincarnate?”
“You!”
Liu Zongliang glared at him with extreme anger, and if he didn’t know he couldn’t beat Wei Changtian, he would have already rushed over to fight to the death.
He stared at him without saying a word, and no one dared to intervene in the feud between the Liu and Wei families. At this moment, only Yang Liushi could come out to mediate.
“Lord Wei, do you have a poem?”
“Yes.”
“But I didn’t see you bring a guest to recite it…”
Yang Liushi glanced at Wang Er, who was clearly a martial artist, and smiled as he asked, “Then is this poem definitely written by you yourself, Lord Wei?”
“Yes.”
Wei Changtian was stingy with his words, and Liu Zongliang finally found an opportunity to mock him, saying, “Hahaha, today I finally know what it means to be an ignorant and arrogant person who doesn’t know the height of the sky or the thickness of the earth…”
“You say one more word, do you believe I’ll let you leave here lying down?” Wei Changtian interrupted coldly.
“…”
It was as if Liu Zongliang’s throat was blocked, and his face turned red in an instant, but he ultimately didn’t dare to say another word.
Wei Changtian didn’t bother with him and slowly stood up after scanning the room.
He picked up the wine jug and took a big gulp, his eyes fixed on Yang Liushi.
“Listen well, this is what’s called a poem.”
Beautiful people, enemies, onlookers…
I’ve finally waited for this moment after crossing through time for so long!
Li Taibai! Anyway, so many people have used your poem, and today I’ll borrow it too!
“Gulp~gulp~”
One mouthful of wine, one sentence of poetry.
Four mouthfuls of wine, and the poem is complete.
The silver jug fell to the ground, making a crisp “clink” sound.
Except for that, the atmosphere on and off stage was silent, with only the sound of a pin dropping audible.
Everyone stared at Wei Changtian with their eyes wide open, their minds blank, except for those twenty-eight words that would make Yang Liushi famous throughout the land.
“Clouds think of clothes, flowers think of beauty,”
“Spring breeze brushes the railing, exposing the fragrance.”
“If not for the gathering of jade on the mountain top,”
From noble mtl dot come
“I would have met you under the moon at the jade platform…”
“Thud!”
A figure stumbled and fell to the ground, none other than Qin Yu, the poetry saint.
He couldn’t believe it and repeatedly muttered the four sentences, finally trembling as he concluded with one sentence.
“My teacher may not be able to surpass this…”