Chapter 86 [VIP]
Song Qiao and his gang were repeat offenders. They hadn't been able to be arrested before due to a lack of evidence. Now that they had been caught red-handed, the officers quickly arrived and arrested all three of them, taking them back to the yamen for trial.
This incident turned out to be a close call, but it served as a reminder to the three of them that they should never trust a stranger's words when traveling!
Back at the inn, Chen Qingyan didn't dare tell his teacher about the incident, as it was far too dangerous and he was afraid that Old Master Liang would get anxious and upset after hearing about it.
Furthermore, Liang Boqing brought the three of them out with a responsibility in mind. If he were to consider safety issues and decide not to continue their study tour, it would be troublesome.
The three brothers then agreed that none of them would mention the matter, and they would pretend that it had never happened.
Chen Qingsong couldn't help but ask, "Big brother, why did you suddenly disappear just now...?"
Chen Qingyan knew they would ask, so she had no choice but to make up a lie for her brothers.
"Years ago, I was seriously ill and almost died in bed. Unexpectedly, I had a stroke of luck. This opportunity was to open a space that no one else could see. However, it was only two feet square, enough for one person to hide in. So I hid weapons inside in advance just in case. I never thought I would have to use them today."
Chen Qingyan didn't tell Wang Ying's name. The fewer people who knew about the experimental field, the better. If it were ever exposed, he would have to protect Wang Ying.
"You must not tell anyone about this, otherwise people might think I'm some kind of monster."
Chen Qingsong and Chen Qinghuai nodded repeatedly, "Don't worry, we'll definitely keep our mouths shut and won't tell any outsiders a word!"
"That's good."
There's a poetry gathering tonight, but Qingsong's face is still swollen and he can't go.
Chen Qingyan decided to go with Qinghuai. It wouldn't be good to refuse something he had already agreed to at the last minute. Besides, not going without a reason would definitely arouse Liang Lao's suspicion.
After changing their clothes and getting ready, it was already late. When they arrived at the teahouse by car, the second floor was already full of people attending the poetry gathering.
Some of these people were students from the prefectural school, while others were well-known literati and scholars from Jizhou Prefecture.
Just like when Mr. Liang attended the poetry gathering back then, many people came because of the reputation of being the disciple of Liang Liufang, the number one talent in Jiangnan. Everyone wanted to see the skills of Mr. Liang's apprentice.
As soon as Chen Qingyan and his companions went up to the second floor, Liu Changyi waved to them, "You're here, come over here quickly." He had reserved seats in the middle.
After the two sat down, Liu Changyi said in a low voice, "I thought you weren't coming today."
Chen Qingyan said, "I'm sorry, something came up and I was delayed."
"It's alright, it's alright, as long as you can come."
When most of the people had arrived, someone clapped their hands and spoke up, "Now that everyone is here, let the poetry gathering begin."
The poetry gathering was hosted by a scholar named Fang Wenke, who was quite famous in the literary circles of Jizhou. He was skilled in poetry, and even Lu Zhongqi praised his poems for having the style of Li Bai and Du Fu.
Talented people all have one thing in common: they tend to be arrogant.
This is inevitable. He was so young and had already passed the imperial examination with top honors. How could someone with such talent not be arrogant?
When Liang Lao came to Jizhou back then, he was much more arrogant than him; it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he was extremely haughty.
Fang Wenke was too young to attend the poetry gathering, but he had heard from others that Liang Liufang was exceptionally talented and had always admired her. Now that he knew that Liang Liufang's disciple had arrived, he naturally wanted to see for himself.
He took the initiative to walk up to Chen Qingyan and said, "I've heard that you are disciples of the great scholar Liang. You must be very talented in literature. Today, please broaden our horizons."
Chen Qingyan and Chen Qinghuai were still reeling from what had happened at noon, their minds a jumble. However, it would seem cowardly to refuse the invitation, as they couldn't tarnish their master's reputation.
Chen Qingyan asked, "What should the topic be?"
Liu Changyi helped explain, "There's a divination tube over there with ten sticks in total, each with a different theme. To prevent people from using old poems as the theme, the theme is based on whichever stick you roll."
Chen Qingyan understood and turned to ask Qinghuai, "Are you going to do this?"
Qinghuai whispered, "I'll give it a try."
Chen Qingyan said, "Okay, we'll both participate."
"Alright!" Fang Wenke raised an eyebrow, rubbing his hands together, ready to have a good match with these two.
As the poetry gathering began, an elderly scholar stood up first, saying, "I am the oldest here, so I, Zhu, will boldly and shamelessly start this discussion to inspire you all."
He raised the bamboo tube, shook it, and threw it. After a short while, a bamboo stick fell out, with a seven-character poem written on it on the theme of flowers and birds.
The topic is quite simple. Countless literati and poets have written poems and songs about flowers and birds throughout history, but it is not easy to write something outstanding.
The old scholar sat down with the lot in hand and began to ponder how to compose a poem, while the next person continued to throw the lot.
The second person was a student from the prefectural school. He drew a bamboo slip and wrote a five-character quatrain on the theme of wind and rain.
The third one was Fang Wenke, who drew a seven-character poem on the theme of landscape.
This is an extremely auspicious sign. Landscape poems are the easiest to write well, and if you write a good one, you'll definitely win first place. Even if you write an average one, it won't be too bad.
The people in front of him drew lots one by one. When it was Chen Qingyan's turn, there were only three bamboo sticks left in the lot-drawing tube. He handed the tube to his cousin, saying, "You draw first."
Chen Qinghuai took a deep breath nervously, picked up the bamboo divination stick container, shook it, and after a while, a bamboo stick fell out. He picked it up and read aloud: "Write a poem on the theme of fine wine..."
This topic is really difficult. He has hardly ever drunk wine, so how could he possibly write poems about wine?
Chen Qingyan was also worried for her cousin and asked in a low voice, "Can he do it?"
"I'll give it a try."
Chen Qingyan took the bamboo stick container, which only had two sticks left. He was under immense pressure, worried that Qinghuai would be too nervous to write a poem, and also worried that the topic he had drawn was too obscure and that he would embarrass his master if he didn't write well.
He shook it, but the last two sticks seemed to be teasing him, no matter how he shook them, he couldn't get them out.
Chen Qingyan was somewhat helpless. Liu Changyi said, "It's just the two of us left, so let's each smoke one."
Everyone nodded in agreement. Chen Qingyan reached into the divination tube and took out a stick with only two words on it: Untitled.
This fortune slip has its pros and cons, because it doesn't have a specific topic or restrictions on your creativity; you can just write a poem and call it a day.
But can he do whatever he wants?
If he dares to casually write a poem to get by, the whole of Jizhou Prefecture will be talking about it by tomorrow: Liang Liufang, the number one talent in Jiangnan, is all talk and no action, and the disciples he has taught are utterly worthless. I hope this will make Old Master Liang so angry that he faints.
Chen Qingyan sat down, holding the bamboo stick, and began to think about how to write the poem.
At this point, Liu Changyi drew the last fortune stick, and his task was to compose a poem on the theme of spring scenery.
Chen Qingyan couldn't help but lament his bad luck. He wished he had drawn this lot. Along the way, the three of them had composed countless poems on the theme of spring, including many lines that had been praised by their master. Using them would surely have amazed everyone.
Well, I've already drawn the lots, so I guess I'll just have to bite the bullet and write it down.
The first scholar to draw a lot had already finished composing a poem, titled "Ode to Flowers and Birds."
"The east wind passed through the west garden last night, blowing down crabapple blossoms that fluttered against the embroidered curtains. The yellow birds, unaware that spring is already old, still carry broken petals and play on the carved railing." These four short lines of poetry, featuring both flowers and birds, are quite fitting for the theme.
However, it lacked a certain artistic conception and could only be described as mediocre, not particularly outstanding.
The old scholar knew his work was mediocre and said self-deprecatingly, "I am of limited talent and learning, and I hope that future scholars can write better poems."
The second student also finished writing. He composed a five-character quatrain on the theme of wind and rain: "Scattered leaves beat against the cold window, a lonely lamp casts a long shadow. The wind sounds like an angry guest, the rain arrows shoot at my sorrowful heart."
Everyone began to appreciate the poem, praising the last line as brilliantly written, where the angry guest and the rain arrows depict the ruthlessness of the wind and rain, adding a touch of desolation.
"What a wonderful poem! What a wonderful poem!" someone exclaimed, clapping their hands in praise.
The student, unable to hide his pride, returned the gesture with a cupped hand, saying, "You flatter me, you flatter me."
When it was Fang Wenke's turn, everyone stopped talking and waited quietly for him to start reciting the poem.
"In 'West Stream of Jiangzhou,' I alone pity the wild grass growing by the stream, above which orioles sing in the deep trees. The spring tide, carrying rain, rushes in late, and at the deserted ferry, the boat lies adrift."①
After he finished reciting the poem, everyone fell silent for a moment, repeating the lines in their minds. After a long while, Scholar Zhu spoke first: "This landscape poem is absolutely brilliant! The scenery leaps off the page, making the reader feel as if they are actually there, just like a painting. This poem is definitely the best!"
The student sitting next to him snorted, "That's too early to say. There are still seven people who haven't done their work yet."
Some, disapproving of Fang Wenke's usual behavior, whispered, "Jiangzhou is more than 600 li away from Jizhou. I wonder when he went there and how long ago he wrote this poem."
Fang Wenke snorted coldly and said disdainfully, "Do you think everyone likes to use old poems to pass off as something else?"
The people who drew lots later blushed. Some of them used old poems to make up the numbers. Not everyone is a genius and can write eloquently!
Distracted by the noise, Chen Qingyan was at a loss and looked at the person next to him while biting his pen.
Qinghuai had already started grinding ink, indicating that he already had something in mind, and Liu Changyi behind him also began to bury himself in writing.
Chen Qingyan closed his eyes, clearing his mind, and for some reason, the image of Wang Ying when he left home that day suddenly appeared in his mind.
He straightened his collar, reminded himself to be careful outside, and an indescribable emotion surged forth, verses flowing out like water. Almost without thinking, he picked up his pen and began to write.
Fang Juren's first poem was so stunning that the following poems paled in comparison, and soon it was Chen Qinghuai's turn.
When he took out his own poem, everyone sat up straight and listened attentively.
Chen Qinghuai drew a lot that asked him to compose a poem on the theme of fine wine. He rarely drank alcohol, and the only times he did so were at his aunt's house. He was particularly impressed by the Mid-Autumn Festival last year, so he wrote this poem on that theme.
He took a deep breath and began to recite the poem: "Drinking Alone Under the Moon, A jade pot pours amber wine, I drink alone before the moon's beauty. I wish to ask the guest of the Moon Palace, How many years will you be drunk tonight?"②
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Perhaps because of Liang Boqing, everyone paid extra attention to Chen Qingyan and Chen Qinghuai, and their poems also became the focus of everyone's appreciation.
Fang Dengke was the first to speak, "What a fine poem! Comparing wine to amber, how wonderful, how wonderful!"
Scholar Zhu exclaimed, "No wonder he's Liang Liufang's disciple! His poetic talent is beyond the reach of ordinary people!"
The others memorized the poem, but although it was wonderfully written, the five-character quatrain was too short. Although it was amazing, it was not worthy of being called the best.
It was Chen Qingyan's turn, and everyone's attention was once again focused on him.
A note from the author:
Note ① "West Stream in Chuzhou" by Wei Yingwu (Tang Dynasty)
Note ② Rewritten from Li Bai's "Four Poems on Drinking Alone Under the Moon"
The previous chapter has been rewritten; those who haven't read it can take a look again.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
