By the time the two arrived at the Da Baoen Temple, it was almost noon.

With a bang, the tin umbrella opened, blocking the sunlight for Zhao Shouzheng who came out of the cabin.

"Huh?" Fan Datong then realized that there was actually another person traveling with him. He pointed at Fang Wen blankly and asked, "Where did this kid come from?"

"Book boy." Zhao Shouzheng had a stern face and was holding his temper, looking like a completely different person than usual.

"I'm going!"

The two entered the pagoda courtyard a little earlier today than yesterday. At this time, dozens of young monks were carrying trays and preparing to serve vegetarian food.

"Here comes the freeloader again."

The scholar from yesterday was looking for them early this morning. When he saw the two of them coming in, he clapped his hands and laughed:

"On time indeed."

Everyone at the poetry gathering also looked at the two with mocking expressions, and someone asked:

"I wonder if this poet of the Kuyin School has come up with a good line?"

Facing the ridicule of the crowd, Zhao Shouzheng looked calm. He felt that he had never been so courageous in the past thirty years.

"Take it, don't delay our meal."

He took out a piece of paper from his sleeve and threw it to the scholar.

Then, Zhao Shouzheng pulled Fan Datong to sit down.

The young monk was about to serve vegetarian food to the two people but was stopped by the scholar.

"No hurry. Once you finish reading it, maybe you can save them the vegetarian meal."

The scholar held up the paper, walked to the center of the meeting room, cleared his throat, and read aloud.

"After going through so much pain of separation, I never expected to find the flowers scattered like this when I returned..."

The guests all smiled and whispered to each other.

“It turns out to be a filler word.”

"It's from 'Dielianhua'. This paragraph is pretty neat. I guess he didn't sleep all night and managed to come up with this sentence..."

Then the scholar continued:

"Under the flowers we look at each other without a word, through the green window spring and the sky are both gone."

As soon as this paragraph came out, no one had any more sarcastic expressions on their faces, and many people looked surprised.

"When I tell my love to you under the lamp, I will have a new love and thousands of old hatreds..."

When the scholar read out the third paragraph, the whole room was in uproar. No one had expected that the literary talent of a mere student could be so high! He said that he was a hard-working poet, and he was not exaggerating.

Even the scholar looked as if he had seen a ghost, and he stammered and could not continue reading.

"The most, the most, the most..."

"Most, what's most? Read it quickly!"

Someone impatient shouted loudly.

But the scholar looked pale and refused to read on.

Xuelang came to his side without knowing when, snatched the poem from him, and read aloud in his clear and outstanding voice:

"The most unretainable thing in the world is the beauty of the mirror and the flowers and trees!"

The whole place fell silent immediately; even Xuelang himself was stunned.

~~

"Good! Great words! Great words in the world!"

After a long while, no one knew who took the lead, but enthusiastic cheers broke out in the venue.

Regardless of whether they were willing or not, everyone was convinced and had to admit that this student was qualified to comment on the Ming poetry scene...

"What a great line, 'The most unforgettable thing in the world is the red face leaving the mirror and the flowers leaving the trees'!" Xuelang also came back to his senses, his eyes filled with excitement. He raised the poem with both hands and said loudly: "This is truly an immortal line, covering up the shame of the Ming poetry world for two hundred years!"

Zhao Shouzheng, however, sat upright and asked the scholar, "Can we have the vegetarian meal now?"

Why did the scholar need to give instructions? The young monk hurriedly served the best vegetarian meal, Zhao Shouzheng handed a pair of chopsticks to Fan Datong, and the two of them began to eat and drink without paying attention to the people around them.

"What a gentleman!"

As soon as this "Dielianhua" was performed, Zhao Shouzheng was instantly transformed from a poor student into a famous scholar in the eyes of everyone...

Xuelang, who had always been aloof and arrogant, was standing by and serving tea and water to Zhao Shouzheng.

Only after he had eaten and drunk his fill did Xuelang put his hands together and said, "It is very rude of me not to ask for your name, the poet."

But Zhao Shouzheng took out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth, then he shook his head slowly and said, "I'm not the poet, I'm the poet's father."

"Uh..." Everyone couldn't help but be stunned. They didn't expect that this guy was actually a madman!

In today's Ming Dynasty, madmen are more popular than famous people.

For example, He Xinyin, Li Zhi, Xu Wei, as well as the earlier Wang Shouren, Yuan Hongdao, Wang Gen, and even the poet monk Xuelang in front of him, were all influential figures who led the Ming Dynasty for a time.

In this era, being an official by following the rules will only make one boring. If one wants to set the trend of the world, lead the trend, and become a star that everyone pays attention to, the only way is to be aloof, arrogant, and unrestrained.

However, no matter how crazy you are, you can't talk like that, right?

Even Xuelang, who belonged to this group, had a bitter smile on his handsome face.

"Based on this poem, the donor deserves the elegant title of 'Ci Dad', but we still have to exclude senior predecessors such as Liu Su, Ou Jiang, Xin Li, etc..."

Zhao Shouzheng shook his head again, looked at the monk's bald head honestly and said: "You misunderstood, I mean, these are the lyrics written by my son."

Everyone's expression changed immediately again. This time they were not in a good mood. They thought that this lunatic was making a veiled accusation.

Xuelang shook his head in disbelief and said with a smile: "Donor, you are joking. Donor should be only thirty years old. Even if your son has been learning poetry and lyrics since his mother's womb, he would never have such sophisticated skills."

"If the monk doesn't believe me, there's nothing I can do. This is the truth anyway. I'm not good at writing poems, so I asked my son to write one for me when I went back. Believe it or not." Zhao Shouzheng spread his hands, told the truth, and stood up to leave.

He was a kind-hearted man and thought that getting back his face was enough. But Fan Datong was very mean and cunning, so he would not give up. He pointed at the scholar hiding in the crowd and said with a smile:

"Brother Juren, can you write this poem?"

The scholar shook his head in embarrassment, and after the last sentence came out, he was speechless.

Fan Datong laughed and said, "Then you are not even as good as the son of my classmate."

He was really cursing...

But with the poem "Dielianhua" in control, the scholar, who usually looked down on others, did not dare to refute a mere student. He just disappeared into the crowd and ran away in shame.

Now he just wants to be a handsome man who doesn't want to reveal his name.

This poem would surely spread throughout Jinling and even the entire Jiangnan region in no time. This scholar did not want to become the villain in a good story and be laughed at by the world.

~~

Zhao Shouzheng and his companions regained their place, ate and drank their fill, and returned victoriously.

When walking out of the gate of Da Baoen Temple, Fan Datong held his head high and his belly sticking out, like a victorious general.

Zhao Shouzheng just kept sighing.

"Brother, you are so happy today, why are you still frowning?" Fan Datong asked puzzled.

"Alas, I didn't expect this poem to cause such a sensation." Zhao Shouzheng said depressedly: "If I had known this, I would have changed to another one and left it to my son to show off."

"Ah, this poem was really written by my nephew?" Fan Datong's eyes widened. Although he admitted that Zhao Hao was smart, mature, and good-looking, he absolutely did not believe that a brat of fourteen or fifteen years old could write such a mature poem like a Song Dynasty poet.

"Of course, how come even you don't believe it?!" Zhao Shouzheng was a little unhappy, and he said, "Luo Binwang wrote a poem about geese when he was seven years old, and Wang Bo wrote "Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng" at the age of fourteen. My son is one year older than Wang Bo, so why can't he write this poem "Dielianhua"? "

"Okay, okay, brother, you're right." Fan Datong begged for mercy, "My dear nephew may be a genius, so it's finally settled, right?"

"What do you mean by maybe? He is a genius!"

Zhao Shouzheng raised his head proudly and got on the boat with the help of Fang Wen.

"Hey, where did this kid come from?" Fan Datong was shocked again.

The boatman held up the bamboo pole and tried to push the sloop away from the dock, but heard loud shouts in the distance.

"Donor, Father Ci, please stay..."

ps. In the new week, please vote for recommendation and comment on the chapter~~