Chapter 332 Master Competition 1
The players went back and forth on the field, and poems poured out like flowing water.
The villagers in the stands were dazzled, their heads spinning left and right as the contestants answered, and soon they were dizzy.
"My goodness, these kids are so amazing! It turns out there are so many poems with flowers in them. I didn't even know about them." An aunt held her forehead, her face full of amazement.
The aunt next to him laughed and joked, "You old woman, you've only been studying for a few days, how many words do you know? These children are the best in the school. It's not normal for them to know so much."
"Hey, have you noticed? There seems to be a girl in the team on our left. Who is this girl?"
"I saw it, I heard it..."
Amidst the whispers, there was amazement at the competition and curiosity about the players.
As the game progressed, Zhang Chuyan's team's advantage gradually became apparent. "When the peach and plum blossoms have all bloomed, only the green grass remains."
After Zhang Chuyan finished speaking, he looked across at the opposite side with a sharp gaze and a hint of provocation in his eyes.
On Zhang Zhaodi's side, sweat kept rolling down the children's foreheads, and the confidence in their eyes was gradually replaced by anxiety.
They didn't expect that the other party had such a rich reserve of poetry, and could even compose poems impromptu, which won frequent nods from several teachers.
"Now, let's count down from five. If the other person still can't answer, they win. Five... four... two... one..."
Gu Jiayue's voice was like a verdict. Zhang Zhaodi and others turned pale, filled with regret and unwillingness.
"Song Qiquan's team won the first question. Let's move on to the second question. Please name a poem containing the word 'rain'."
While these questions weren't particularly difficult for students well-versed in poetry and literature, Zhang Zhaodi and her classmates' limited knowledge and relatively recent enrollment exposed their disadvantages. Despite Gu Huangan's academic prowess, facing the relentless barrage of questions from the other three, failure seemed inevitable.
After the match, Zhang Zhaodi's eyes were red and her voice was choked with sobs: "I'm sorry, Master, we failed to live up to your trust!"
Her heart was filled with guilt, feeling that she had let down Su Zhuxing's expectations.
Su Zhuxing opened his mouth, but the scolding he had prepared was stuck in his throat and he couldn't say it.
Looking at the children's frustrated expressions and thinking of their wonderful performance on the field, especially the poems composed on the spot by Zhang Zhaodi and Meng Ziqi, his heart was filled with pride.
You have to remember, these kids have only been in school for two months! It's already pretty impressive that they've made it this far.
If you were outside, you would definitely be praised as a genius!
"Hmph! If you know your shortcomings, then practice more! Get down here and watch me torture Song Qiquan!"
The sun shone obliquely on the Cuju field, making the blue bricks hot, but it could not suppress the suddenly tense atmosphere on the field.
With Gu Jiayue's order, the second game officially kicked off. The protagonists of this game were no longer the immature students, but the two teachers who shouldered the important task of leading the team.
Gu Jiayue glanced at the people holding their breath in concentration, and said softly, "For students, we need to test their knowledge. For team leaders, we need to test not only their teaching knowledge but also their leadership ability."
She paused slightly, catching a glimpse of Su Zhuxing's straight back from the corner of her eye. Song Qiquan, stroking the hem of his clothes, continued, "After all, there are so many children here. What if we take them out without proper arrangements and something unexpected happens? Besides, we're just a new school. If we want to stand out from the other schools, it depends on the leader's ability to deploy troops and formations."
As soon as he finished speaking, the whispers of the villagers in the stands stopped abruptly, and even the wind blowing across the copper bells on the flagpole seemed cautious.
Su Zhuxinghe and Song Qiquan, who had already attached great importance to this game, became even more prepared.
"Let's start with the first competition, the literary accumulation competition. You are teachers and scholars, so the exam will naturally be more difficult." Gu Jiayue deliberately dragged out the last word, "How about we have a test on composing a poem in seven steps?"
Su Zhuxing's eyes widened and his Adam's apple rolled up and down, as if he had swallowed a whole stone.
Song Qiquan frowned, his index finger unconsciously drawing circles on his palm, and his ink-colored gown was stained with dark marks from cold sweat.
"This... isn't this just making things difficult for us?" someone in the crowd whispered.
Being able to compose a poem in seven steps is a remarkable talent that only Cao Zhi possessed. Even in the literary world, there are very few people who can do it with ease.
But Gu Jiayue looked calm, as if she hadn't heard the discussion. She raised her hand and said, "No objection? Then let the competition begin. Master Du will draw the first question on the spot."
The carved sandalwood box was lifted onto the platform. The moment the lid was opened, a few pieces of paper trembled in the wind, as if carrying the scent of ink that had been there for a thousand years.
Mr. Du cleared his throat, reached into the box with his skinny fingers, took out a piece of paper and slowly unfolded it, and the vigorous word "snow" jumped into his eyes.
Su Zhuxing's tense shoulders suddenly relaxed, and a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth; Song Qiquan also breathed a sigh of relief, and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes smoothed out a little.
Snow is a frequent character in the works of literati and poets, who can recite eight or ten poems about it with their eyes closed.
The two of them lifted their feet almost at the same time, their steps as brisk as stepping on clouds. Before they had counted seven steps, they were already standing steadily in front of the table.
The wolf hair brush is dipped in ink, the rice paper is spread out, the ink turns into white flowers under the brush, and the rustling sound of writing interweaves into a melody.
The rules of this competition are designed to be very fair. The first step is to compare speed to see who puts down the pen first; the second step is to compare quality, and the scores will be given by the teachers who did not participate in the competition.
Gu Jiayue held the hourglass in her hand, and the fine sand fell, freezing time into visible scales.
After finishing the first question, Gu Jiayue immediately took out the second question from the box.
The second question is “Moon”.
This was also a simple proposition. The two were evenly matched, their turn-in times barely separated by a blink of an eye, causing the villagers in the stands to alternately hold their breath and sigh.
The third question was drawn by the village chief of Taohua Village.
When the village chief's calloused hands drew out the third question, "Broken Wild Goose," an autumn wind suddenly blew dead leaves across the playing field, making a whimpering sound.
Su Zhuxing's pupils suddenly contracted, and the hand holding the pen trembled slightly.
Song Qiquan stared at the two words, as if he saw a lost lone goose in the sky.
The broken wild goose is not only a goose that has strayed from the flock, but also a symbol of wandering and loneliness. These two young scholars who have lived a life of luxury have never truly experienced such bone-chilling loneliness.
When Su Zhuxing took his first step, it felt like he was stepping on cotton, and his steps were light and frivolous; Song Qiquan's steps were no longer calm, and every step seemed to be measuring the distance between himself and poetry.
After finally reaching the table, the two of them held their pens suspended over the paper, reluctant to put them down.
The sunlight stretched their shadows very long, casting trembling spots of light on the rice paper.
I don’t know how long it took, but with a "pop" sound, Song Qiquan put down his pen first, and the tip of the pen made a crisp sound when it hit the edge of the inkstone.
Gu Jiayue picked up his manuscript, scanned the handwriting, and read softly: "Dusk presses down on the clouds, the reeds on the cold shore are sparse. A single feather flies through the mist, and a faint cry breaks the smoke. The traveler sheds tears for home, and the separated lover breaks a willow branch. We share this hatred across the world, the cold moon shines on the empty curtain."
The words are like knives, vividly depicting the desolation of the lone goose in the twilight.
Du Fuzi picked up Su Zhuxing's poem, his voice filled with regret: "The autumn wind blows from all directions, and the lone wild goose wanders alone..."
The two poems were placed side by side on the table, like two armies facing each other.
Su Zhuxing stared at Song Qiquan's poem, his lips moved, and finally turned into a sigh.
"Master Su, Master Song won this match. Are you convinced?" Gu Jiayue's voice was gentle but carried unquestionable power.
Su Zhuxing lowered his head even lower, with a few strands of hair hanging in front of his eyes: "I'm convinced!"
The hoarse voice was full of reluctance and relief.
Seeing this, Gu Jiayue walked up and patted him on the shoulder gently: "Don't be discouraged, there is still a second game."
She sighed secretly in her heart, but on the surface she still maintained the dignity of the headmaster.
Running a school is not easy. You have to balance teaching and appease the teachers' emotions. The role of a "master of balancing" is really difficult to play.
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