Chapter 112 The Green Hills Remain and the Waters Flow On
Nothing was said that night.
When Lin Rui woke up, he did what he always did: washed up, left the hotel, and wandered around the ancient town.
Today, the literati and artists in the ancient town are much more active than they were two days ago.
They gathered in twos and threes, either in theaters, painted boats, or teahouses on the street, engaging in literary pursuits.
Every now and then a brilliant line appears, immediately drawing praise and applause from those around him.
Tonight is the Mid-Autumn Festival poetry selection.
Some hotels have already opened in dark red.
Currently, Yan Zhenhui, who is unwell, is at the top of the list.
After all, on the opening night of the poetry competition, Yan Zhenhui poured his heart out, expressing his longing for his wife under the moon, and his Mid-Autumn Festival poem attracted everyone's attention.
Wenqingsong ranked fourth.
His works cannot be said to be bad.
But in front of him were two other deities.
The second place goes to Su Banshan, who has not yet started writing.
The third place goes to Fusheng, who is elusive and rarely seen.
Obviously.
The owners of the hotels in the ancient town who opened their businesses in dark red were all relatively rational.
They won't be arrogant and ignorant enough to set high odds just because Su Banshan and Lin Rui haven't made their moves yet.
A person's name, a tree's shadow.
Su Banshan and Yan Zhenhui were equally famous in Huazhou for more than a decade, and Su Banshan was a literary giant in Huazhou.
Even before he put pen to paper, no one dared to underestimate him.
As for Fusheng, that's even more outrageous.
He didn't put pen to paper.
However, during his short stay in Washington state, he presented three works.
First, it is a poem with repeated characters in a circular pattern.
Secondly, his inscription on the white wall of Shuangxing Scenic Area caused a stir in the literary circles of Huazhou, with people rushing to see it overnight.
After that, he even wrote the most extraordinary poem in the world!
It would be extremely risky not to place such a brilliant and talented person first.
Hotel owners aren't fools; why would they recklessly open a sale and lose money just because Fusheng hasn't written anything yet?
certainly.
While Lin Rui was having lunch, he also saw the dark red list in the lobby.
Several familiar names appeared on the list.
For example, Cao Kang, Fan Bojian, Shen Jun, He Zhongting, Li Donglai, etc.
Even Chi Haoming, whom I saw on the boat the day I attended the Mid-Autumn Poetry Gathering, was on the list.
Night fell.
Now, it is the proper Mid-Autumn Festival night.
All the literary figures and scholars present gathered in the square.
Riddle.
Build a pagoda.
Burn incense.
A lamp in the tree.
Dragon dance.
Pound the lion.
Prayer lanterns.
It had everything, and it was quite lively.
Young women can be seen everywhere on the street, wearing embroidered skirts, their faces covered by round fans, smiling charmingly, just like ladies of ancient times.
There were also literati and scholars who changed into various costumes and mingled among the crowds.
Various folk performances were in full swing, dazzling the audience.
As the fireworks soared into the sky, a kaleidoscope of colors appeared.
This also foreshadows the Mid-Autumn Poetry Competition selection.
It's here!
A large number of literati, scholars, and beautiful women flocked to the scene.
The live broadcast channel also turned its camera to the Chinese Poetry Competition.
Led by Cao Kang, the Huazhou Writers Association formed a selection panel.
This selection panel is quite extraordinary.
Even the former president of the Washington State Literary Association took his seat with a cane in hand.
Among them are two permanent directors of the No. 1 Restaurant in the World.
Tonight, ten judges will select the champion of this year's poetry competition.
The judges' seats are located in the pavilion, surrounded by vermilion pavilions and enclosed by pools of water on all four sides, with jagged artificial rocks.
Cao Kang and others took turns reciting the works of the writers and offering their comments.
Of course, the poems displayed on the table were all carefully selected masterpieces.
If you were to recite all the works, you could not finish even after three days and three nights.
"Those days should have brought me sorrow, tonight I remember old friends..."
Fan Bojian was still reading it.
Suddenly, he felt someone stand up behind him.
Soon, everyone's attention was focused on this person.
Nothing more.
Because this person is Su Banshan.
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