Chapter 181 Poetry Contest
"Wow—!" Xiao Yi tilted her head back, opened her mouth wide, and exclaimed in genuine amazement.
He had never seen such a magnificent and dreamlike sight. His small figure stood under the huge maple tree, looking exceptionally tiny.
Although Xiao Ran wasn't as outwardly expressive as Xiao Yi, she was also immersed in this beautiful scene.
He bent down and picked up the maple leaves he thought were pretty, one by one, and picked up more and more.
"Sister Jiang, look over there! It's as red as fire! It wasn't this red when we came last time!"
Cheng Jiaojiao excitedly pointed to a maple forest on the hillside with particularly vibrant colors.
Looking at Jiang Ling's relaxed brows and smiling profile, Cheng Fang felt a sense of pleasure and said with a smile, "How is it, Miss Jiang? Do you find the red leaves of West Hill pleasing to the eye?"
Jiang Ling sincerely praised, "It's not just pleasing to the eye, it's like a fairyland. Such a magnificent scene truly lives up to its reputation."
Cheng Fang added gently, "If you come in the early morning or evening, the maple leaves will be even more vibrant red under the glow of the sunset, creating a unique charm."
The group walked slowly up the mountain path, stopping from time to time to admire the scenery.
After walking for about half an hour, they found a platform with a wide view and stopped to rest.
Leaning on the railing and gazing into the distance, the forests are ablaze with color, and the outline of the capital city is faintly visible under the clear autumn sky. The magnificent landscape is breathtaking and invigorating.
There were quite a few visitors to admire the maple forest today, arriving in small groups, one after another.
They laid out a mat, took out their prepared food box, and enjoyed a picnic while admiring the red maple leaves.
"Miss Jiang, come, sit down and rest for a while."
Before Cheng Fang arrived, he had packed some pastries. The guards chose a spot with a great view, laid out cushions, and the group sat down.
Xiao Yi handed the reddest and largest maple leaf he had picked to Jiang Ling: "Sister, this is for you!"
Jiang Ling took the red leaf, which was as small as a hand, and smiled as she patted his head: "Thank you, Xiao Yi, it's so beautiful."
Such a beautiful scene prompted several young men who looked like scholars to compose poems in the distance.
One of the young men, dressed in a blue robe and wearing a square headscarf, stood up first, bowed to the mountain full of red maple leaves, and recited aloud:
"Autumn colors surge across the western mountains, and crimson clouds dye the nine heavens."
I wish to depict this magnificent scene with brush and ink, but I worry that my skill is insufficient.
As soon as the poem was finished, cheers immediately erupted from the surrounding crowd.
"What a wonderful line, 'Yet I worry that my brushwork is not skillful enough'! It's so vivid!"
A wealthy merchant dressed in silk clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Young Master Zhang has made an extraordinary rise to prominence; the younger generation is truly formidable!"
No sooner had he finished speaking than another, slightly thinner young man in white, not to be outdone, rose and spoke, his poetry even more refined and delicate:
"Layer upon layer of mountains are dyed red by piled-up clouds, and the wind sweeps the crimson maple leaves back with the waves."
Don't say autumn has no beautiful scenery; the red leaves on this mountain surpass even the finest spring wine!
Comparing the red leaves to spring wine not only captures the richness of the leaves but also conveys the elegance of the autumn scenery.
Several older scholars showed their appreciation and whispered among themselves about the clever use of allusions in the poem.
Cheng Jiaojiao smiled and said, "Sister Jiang, I like this song. It has maple leaves and wine, it's so beautiful!"
She knew nothing about poetry; she was just listening for fun.
Jiang Ling nodded, indicating that it was a good idea.
Xiao Yi tugged at Xiao Ran's sleeve and asked, "Brother Xiao Ran, what is reciting poetry? Is it like reciting sentences as Mr. Fu taught us?"
Xiao Ran nodded and explained softly, "It's about looking at the scenery in front of you, writing down your thoughts in poems, and seeing who writes the best."
The young man in white smiled, cupped his hands in greeting, and sat down. Then, another thin young student in blue stood up.
He had clearly made some preparations, pulling a piece of paper from his sleeve, clearing his throat, and reading aloud: "Autumn Thoughts on the Western Hills: The west wind brings coolness into the mountain slopes, and the leaves of all the trees are half-red after the frost. Looking far into the distance, the sky meets the water, and nearby, red trees cover the slopes. Fishing boats return home at dusk, their sails far away, and flocks of geese fly overhead, casting many shadows. This scene should only exist in heaven, and it is rare to see it on earth."
This poem is well-structured with parallelism and rich imagery, featuring mountains, water, fishing boats, and flocks of geese, giving it a grand and majestic feel at first glance.
However, several elderly scholars quietly discussed: "Too many images make it seem cluttered, and the words are piled up, which makes it lose the spirit of the previous two poems."
"Although this poem is well-structured, it lacks authenticity. Appreciating maple leaves should be about maple leaves; adding fishing boats and flocks of geese makes it deviate from the scene before your eyes."
The students bowed and sat down in shame.
At this moment, a girl in a pale yellow dress stood up with encouragement from her companions. Her voice was clear and melodious, tinged with a hint of shyness, yet she recited a unique poem:
"Red leaves and yellow flowers mark the late autumn; a thousand miles away, I think of the traveler."
The clouds have all flown by, and no wild geese have returned; where can I send a letter?
Tears fall endlessly by the window, so I grind ink on the inkstone.
As I write of our separation, the depth of my feelings fades, and the red paper turns colorless.
This poem, written from a woman's perspective, uses the autumn scenery to express her longing for a traveler far away. The emotions are sincere and delicate, vividly depicting the depth of her yearning, which moved many of the women present, who applauded enthusiastically.
The young man in the blue robe who had composed the poem earlier laughed and said, "Miss Li's poem 'Thinking of a Distant Friend' is so sincere and moving that even we men are touched. It seems that today's poetry gathering will only be truly enjoyable if men and women sing in harmony!"
Another woman stood up, her fingertips gently touching the dewdrops on the leaves, and softly recited:
"The dew stains the maple leaves, deepening their color; the cicadas' last cries reveal a deep crimson. A single leaf falls in the wind before the pavilion, like embroidered floss falling from the spring courtyard."
This poem is less grand than the previous one, but more delicate.
The line "The dew stains the maple leaves, making their color even richer" in particular perfectly captures the moisture and vibrancy of autumn maple leaves.
This drew cheers from the crowd.
Jiang Ling felt that the voice sounded familiar. When she looked over, she realized that it was Miss Liu, whom she had met in the teahouse.
Clearly, Liu Wan'er had also noticed Jiang Ling and her group, and led her small team over.
"So even ordinary people come to admire the maple leaves. Do you even understand what you're doing?"
Liu Wan'er crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping over Jiang Ling and her group before finally settling on Cheng Jiaojiao with disdain.
Cheng Jiaojiao jumped to her feet, almost dropping the osmanthus cake in her hand: "Liu Wan'er! Are you deliberately picking a fight? Why are you following me around like a shadow?!"
Liu Wan'er scoffed, her tone even sharper, "I'm afraid you'll tarnish this magnificent scenery. People who can't even read properly, what are you doing here!"
The women following behind her echoed her sentiments.
"That's right, Miss Liu can compose poems with the talented men of the capital, unlike some people who only know how to eat snacks."
"Go home and practice your swordplay, don't embarrass yourself here!"
Cheng Jiaojiao immediately flew into a rage: "Who do you think you are! With your level of skill, even a three-year-old could sing better than you!"
"If you want us to respect you, write a poem! Don't just shout and yell."
Cheng Jiaojiao blushed with anger. Her family, Cheng, came from a military background, and she never liked reading, so how could she possibly compose poems?
Liu Wan'er sneered and turned her gaze to Jiang Ling, "No way! What can a boorish man like that, leading a bunch of country bumpkins, possibly reward you with! What kind of Sister Jiang is she? Just a country girl, and you're the only one who treats her like a treasure, following her around like a shadow all day. How shameful!"
Jiang Ling didn't want to cause trouble and remained silent, but how did she end up being dragged into this again?
She had always thought that this Miss Liu had a grudge against Cheng Jiaojiao, so why did her words seem to be directed at her?
This is her first time in the capital, how did she offend her?
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