"Rest assured, everyone, I, Pei Shaoji, will expose the hypocrisy of such a villain in front of the Ninth Princess. I will never allow such a despicable person to pollute the cultural heritage of Dali."
Upon hearing this, everyone in the room shouted in response.
"Young Master Pei is truly virtuous!"
As time went by, more and more poems were submitted.
At this moment, the third incense stick had also burned to the end.
As a gentle breeze swept by, Mu Zian, who was resting with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them.
"Bring me a pen."
Liu Rushi handed the wolf-hair brush, which was already soaked in ink, to Mu Zian.
Mu Zian held his breath and focused intently as his brush danced back and forth on the Xuan paper.
The characters are as sharp as if carved by a knife, and the strokes are as powerful as metal spears.
It was completed in one go from beginning to end, and the ink dried completely with a casual blow.
Ning Hongchen and Liu Rushi looked at the paper with curiosity.
One glance was enough to make one feel as if they had seen a ghost.
Mu Zian smiled slightly, and then wrote a single character at the end of the signature.
Below the high platform, a group of renowned scholars were engaged in a heated discussion.
"...The battle clothes have been stripped away, leaving only bones, a lone rider arrives amidst the smoke of war. The desolate desert swallows the sun and moon, the ancient city is dilapidated, the remains of the old Qin. The banners still flutter in the color of wind and clouds, the swords in their sheaths gleam with ten thousand feet of light, a lonely grave lies buried with rusted armor, and phosphorescent lights illuminate the lonely platform at night."
"Mr. Dongshan, this poem by Young Master Pei, 'Battlefield,' is truly a masterpiece. With just a few strokes, it vividly depicts the desolate scene of the battlefield. Today, this poem will be the most outstanding in the first round."
Mr. Dongshan nodded upon hearing this.
"Although Pei Shaoji is a scholar who has never been to the battlefield, it is not easy for him to write such frontier poems. They are excellent works."
"What does Your Highness think?"
Xiao Xiuning smiled elegantly.
"I am no match for you seniors in the art of poetry; I leave everything to you gentlemen to decide."
Everyone laughed upon hearing this.
"Your Highness is too modest. Everyone knows you are a renowned talented woman in the capital. However, Young Master Pei is indeed talented, and the works of other scholars are slightly inferior to his. In that case, how about we name this poem..."
Before he could finish speaking, a servant came running over with the manuscript in his arms.
"Gentlemen, wait a moment, there is one more poem."
Everyone turned their heads and saw that the last stick of incense had burned out at that moment, not a minute more or less.
Although another poem was added at the end, no one had any hope for it.
After all, Pei Shaoji's writing is already top-notch, and adding another poem wouldn't make any difference.
An elderly man, well past sixty, accepted the poem.
The others didn't take it seriously either, Mr. Dongshan said.
"Since no one has any objections, then Pei Shaoji's poem should be ranked first."
No sooner had he finished speaking than the elderly man in his sixties, who had just received the poem, suddenly stood up and shouted.
"Wait!"
The voice trembled slightly, and everyone present turned to look.
Even Xiao Xiuning's gaze was drawn to him.
Upon seeing this, Mr. Dongshan stroked his beard and smiled.
"If Lord Liu has any good poems or lyrics, please recite them quickly. Why keep us in suspense?"
Hearing this, everyone became curious, after all, this Lord Liu was known for his stable emotions, and it was rare to see him so flustered.
Upon hearing this, Liu Gong took a deep breath and said.
"This is a seven-character quatrain. Gentlemen, please listen to it."
"Fine wine in a luminous cup."
The first couplet was quite novel and ingeniously structured, but its straightforwardness made it a less than excellent work.
Before anyone could think, the next sentence rang out again.
"The pipa urges me on to drink, but I cannot stop now."
The crowd, which had been all smiles, suddenly fell silent.
One slow, one fast; one still, one moving.
These two short sentences instantly depict a scene of soldiers being sent off with a farewell feast before heading to the battlefield.
The originally delicious wine now carried a hint of sadness.
Just then, Liu Gong suddenly jumped up, and his voice became louder.
"Do not laugh at me, drunk and lying on the battlefield."
With a deafening boom, everyone's mind went completely blank!
In just seven words, they heard a sense of heartache, tragedy, romance, and freedom.
The people present looked at each other, and they could see the word "shock" in each other's expressions.
Liu Gong took a deep breath and recited the last words.
"How many warriors have returned from ancient battles?"
The emotions are mixed but not chaotic; there is sadness but also a sense of freedom!
The atmosphere at the scene froze, and Mr. Higashiyama exclaimed in surprise.
"Another timeless line!"
Who wrote this poem?
All eyes turned to Liu Gong.
Upon hearing this, Liu Gong looked at each character and saw that at the bottom of the Xuan paper, where the signature was written, there was only one character: Mu.
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