This competition has a referee and also relies on audience voting.
The audience is composed of teachers and students from domestic and foreign universities. They all have a certain appreciation ability in ancient poetry, so fairness can be guaranteed.
The referee invited the Deputy Secretary-General of the United Nations to supervise.
The Deputy Secretary-General is a Chinese American, fair-minded and multilingual.
"The athletes from both countries are ready." The Deputy Secretary-General said in fluent Chinese.
He is not tall, has a very imposing aura, and is wearing a POLO shirt.
Chen Xian sat alone at the debate table, and the Seoul University team also took their seats.
There were a total of ten people on their side, and only one person on Chen Xian's side.
"Are you alone?" asked the professor from Seoul University.
Shen Xian nodded.
Other people were originally arranged in the country, but after seeing Shen Xian coming, everyone felt that it was not a good idea to humiliate themselves.
The professor at Seoul University felt that Shen Xian was somewhat insulting.
But Shen Xian just smiled slightly: “It doesn’t matter, this orthodox battle has never been about the number of people.”
The referee struck the gong: "Silence."
Then he came to a turntable. It was very large and had two pointers. It was divided into hundreds of grids, and each grid contained a Chinese character.
The two pointers will not point to the same grid at the same time.
That is, the two pointers will form a new word.
Later, the referee will turn the huge turntable, and the person who points to the square will have to write a poem using the corresponding Chinese character. The time limit is fifteen minutes.
This depends entirely on talent and knowledge reserves, and there is no possibility of internal manipulation.
"Are you ready?" the referee asked. "If you are, I will start spinning the wheel."
"We're ready!" The Seoul University team and Shen Xian spoke up.
Then the referee started spinning the wheel.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on the turntable.
As the turntable turned slower and slower, many people's breathing became rapid and they all became a little nervous.
Song Tianzong and others were also staring at the turntable.
There were two pointers, the upward pointer pointed to the word "Spring", and the downward pointer pointed to the word "Jiang".
Spring River!
In other words, write poetry about the spring river.
Seeing this, Shen Xian was stunned for a moment, then looked at the Seoul team with pity.
You guys are so unlucky.
If you were to write a poem about the spring river, then the best one would definitely be "Spring River Moonlight Night", which is known as the best poem of the Tang Dynasty!
"Begin!" At the referee's command, the members of the Seoul team quickly gathered together, and some even began to flip through an ancient book.
Shen Xian calmly picked up the input tablet in front of him and began to write poetry.
Seeing that Chen Xian had already started writing, the people in the Seoul team became nervous.
"It definitely won't be that fast. What I write will definitely be terrible."
"That's right, this is impromptu poetry!"
They cheer themselves up.
"This young man didn't think at all and just started writing. How can the quality be good?" asked the old man in the white shirt.
Wen Cangyu laughed: "Don't worry, there will be no problem!"
Song Tianzong remained silent, and Zhou Xingjian was a little nervous.
"Report to the referee, I have finished writing!" Chen Xian said, "I will submit it."
"pass!"
Shen Xian immediately pressed the submit button, and "Spring River Moon Night" was directly displayed on the big screen.
Spring River Flowers and Moonlight
The spring river tide reaches the sea level, and the bright moon on the sea rises with the tide.
The moon is shining on the spring river for thousands of miles; there is no moonless spring river!
…
Last night I dreamed of falling flowers in an idle pond. It was a pity that I hadn’t returned home yet in the middle of spring.
The river flows and spring is about to end, the moon falls into the river and sets in the west.
The setting moon is hidden in the sea fog, and there are endless roads from Jieshi to Xiaoxiang.
I don’t know how many people return home with the moon, the falling moon shakes the emotions of the trees on the river.
When everyone saw the complete poem, they were all stunned.
You know, Zhang Ruoxu's "Spring River Moon Night" is praised as "a unique and outstanding piece of work, which has become a masterpiece", "the poem among poems, the peak among peaks", and is one of the most dazzling pearls in the history of Chinese classical poetry!
The people in the Seoul team hadn’t even figured out two sentences, but Shen Xian had already written thirty-six sentences.
The key is the extremely high quality!
They stared blankly at the big screen. Every word on it seemed to be shining with golden light, blinding their eyes!
They have in-depth research on the Chinese language. Some scholars have been sent to study in China since birth, and their appreciation ability is not much worse than that of some domestic bigwigs.
At this moment, everyone's face showed a dazed look.
In the room, the old man in white opened his eyes wide and breathed rapidly.
"Mr. Ye, what do you think of this poem?" Song Tianzong asked with a smile.
The voice of the old man in white was trembling a little: "This...this...the spring river tide reaches the sea level, and the bright moon on the sea rises with the tide...the beginning is the vastness of heaven and earth, how majestic! I have studied poetry all my life, and I have never seen such a scene!
"This artistic conception...this picture...actually made my withered heart feel the magnificence and excitement of the beginning of the world again!"
"Once this poem was published, all the previous poems about the moon and the river pale in comparison. It is a unique and outstanding poem!"
Song Tianzong and Ning Zheng couldn't hold back their smiles when they heard this: "My son!"
Zhou Xingjian also took a deep breath, "The frost in the sky flies without being noticed, the white sand on the beach is invisible... the light and shadow flow, the virtual and the real coexist, how can it be written so ethereal and clear? It can't be rolled up in the jade curtain, and it keeps brushing against the laundry anvil... The sadness of parting, the lingering and sad, can be so subtle and deep? This elaboration and parallelism, this imagery transformation, this rhythm flow... every sentence is exquisite, and the combination is even more natural, like a masterpiece! I... I am afraid that I can't write even one sentence in my entire life!"
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