The speaker was Fang's father. He had just fallen asleep and woken up to hear someone trying to mislead his son. How could he not be furious?
"Nonsense, don't corrupt my son."
Mr. Fang quickly pulled his son away, looking at Li Ming with a wary expression, and said, "You dare to call yourself a saint? State your name, which saint are you?"
The boy in front of him looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old, yet he presumptuously claimed to be a saint. He had never heard of such a young saint before.
He's definitely a con artist.
Seeing that Li Ming remained silent, Fang's father's face grew even more smug, and he said:
"Speechless, aren't you? I knew you were a liar, but I was too embarrassed to call you out on it. I've seen plenty of liars like you."
Have you ever seen a con artist trick someone into studying?
"..." Mr. Fang was speechless for a moment, unable to understand what this young man was doing. He certainly didn't seem like a conman, but something felt off. He said:
What exactly do you want to do?
"Don't rush, let's talk about it slowly."
As Li Ming spoke, he took out a sparkling pearl from his pocket and placed it in Fang's father's hand.
Fang's father, who was initially somewhat angry, calmed down and carefully examined the pearl in his hand. The more he examined it, the more surprised he became; this thing must be very valuable.
They really are rich.
So he lowered his stance and said with a smile, "I might have been a little rude just now. Brother, didn't you have something you wanted to talk to me about? Feel free to say it."
He also pulled Li Ming a little further away, afraid that Li Ming would say something inappropriate and that his son would hear it.
The complete 360-degree change in attitude surprised Li Ming.
Indeed, money makes the world go round, especially for someone as greedy and short-sighted as him.
Seeing that his attitude had changed, Li Ming seized the opportunity and said, "You've heard part of what I just said. Do you think I'm right?"
"Actually, I only heard you say that you are a saint, and I also heard you say that my son will perish."
"Good to hear. I'm telling the truth." Li Ming stopped beating around the bush and got straight to the point.
"How is this possible?" Fang's father had just accepted a pearl from Li Ming; otherwise, he would have jumped up and beaten him by now. "Let's put aside whether you are a saint or not for now. My son, Fang Zhongyong, is a child prodigy. How could he possibly have fallen?"
"Look at those great figures, like Confucius, Guan Zhong, and Lao Tzu. Weren't they all intelligent? But they didn't rely on their intelligence to neglect their studies. And there's the story of Mencius' mother moving three times so her son could study properly. Your son is very capable. If you let him study hard at his age, his future achievements will be limitless. He'll have everything he could ever want. There's no need to rush things now. You should make sure he's studying even if you're dirt poor and have to sell your possessions, so that he can live in a house like mine in the future..."
Li Ming gestured and gave a lecture, but it was to no avail.
Because he looks too young.
If it were an old man, or even Confucius himself, Mr. Fang might listen.
In the middle-aged man's eyes, Li Ming was just a little kid.
He doesn't take what he says to heart at all.
It's impossible for anyone to listen to a child who looks so much younger than you trying to preach a bunch of道理 (principles/truths).
They might even think what you're saying is nonsense, and feel a little embarrassed.
Father Fang wasn't angry, because Li Ming was rich. He smiled faintly and said:
"How about this, we don't need to say so much. You and my son have a contest, composing poems on any subject. If you can beat my son, then everything will be fine."
"Are you sure you want your son to compete with me?" Li Ming looked at him.
"Sure."
"OK."
Li Ming was just thinking about how to find a starting point, but after his words, he finally found one. This Mr. Fang had a mysterious confidence in his son.
If I could defeat him fair and square, then the situation would be different.
Fang's father believed in the sage.
It seems that I, Li Ming, have no choice but to truly accept the title of "Sage".
“Zhongyong, come here for a moment. You’re going to have a poetry contest with this young man. Remember, you have to let him win, don’t make him lose too badly,” Father Fang said smugly.
“There’s no need for that. Kid, you have to use all your strength, because once I make a move, you won’t have a chance,” Li Ming said calmly.
"Hahaha." Father Fang laughed heartily, saying nothing more, only staring at Li Ming, thinking that he was indeed young and impetuous.
Fang Zhongyong suddenly felt a sense of pressure.
He also met many scholars in Jinxi County, but none of them were as good as him. He didn't know why he felt so much pressure in front of these people who were only a few years older than him.
“You go first. You can compose a poem about anything you like, as many as you like,” Li Ming said.
"You go first."
Fang Zhongyong licked his lips. He felt that Li Ming had a strong aura, and even his father, who was standing next to him, could vaguely sense it.
The young man beside him possessed a sharp edge, like a sleeping dragon awakening, with a faint golden aura emanating from his body.
The black dog, which had been lying on the ground with its ears drooping, perked up.
"I told you that if I make a move, you won't have a chance to make a move," Li Ming said calmly.
“Zhongyong, you make the first move, overwhelm him with your momentum, and make him admit defeat before he even has a chance to fight back.” Father Fang pointed to the surroundings and said, “Write a poem about this setting.”
Fang Zhongyong looked around and saw waterfalls, flowing water, gardens, peach groves, and pavilions in the air.
A moment later, a poem came to mind:
"Peach blossoms line the banks, butterflies dance on the waves, and pavilions in the air are painted with mist and clouds."
"The waterfall flows straight down like a jade curtain, hanging ten thousand feet in the air like an inverted lotus."
"The mountains are high and the rivers are long, the meaning is endless; we will meet again in the world of martial arts, a farewell."
"There is no boundless path in books, and I will wander freely in this mortal world."
The poem is finished.
Fang Zhongyong looked at Li Ming, a hint of smugness on his face.
"Clap clap clap..." Mr. Fang couldn't understand what his son was saying, but he felt it was amazing. He kept clapping and looked at Li Ming triumphantly, saying:
"It's your turn."
Li Ming was stunned, completely unable to understand what Fang Zhongyong meant, but the fact that a child could achieve such a level truly amazed him, and he no longer felt he could find fault with anything.
"Would you like another poem?" Li Ming asked.
“No need, the poem we just recited is enough,” Fang Zhongyong said.
"Stop wasting time, hurry up and recite a poem, I want to see your literary talent," said Mr. Fang.
“I told you I am a saint, but you wouldn’t believe me. Very well, now I will show you what the highest realm of a saint is.” Li Ming smiled faintly.
Fang Zhongyong and his father looked at Li Ming at the same time and asked, "What level of cultivation?"
Li Ming remained calm and said, "The highest realm of a sage is to have a brushstroke that can startle wind and rain, and a book that can make ghosts and gods weep. You all better watch closely, because I'm about to make my move."
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