Hearing Wang Lingniang announce the “Seeking Poetry” conditions, Gu Wangchen smiled casually, thinking to himself that it was just as he’d expected.
It was exactly the same as the original storyline, not a single detail had changed.
Even the content remained untouched.
Qin? Music?
It was just another way to heat up the atmosphere, nothing more. He knew the operating logic of Jingfang Pavilion all too well—in the end, it was impossible for the true poet to win the top prize.
Unless that poet was himself, or one of the other noble scions.
Thinking of this, his interest waned, and he turned to head back to his private room.
“Hey, Wangchen, where are you going?” Yang Ruilin hurriedly grabbed Gu Wangchen, asking in confusion.
“Back to get something to eat. The grand prize for tonight has already been covered up. I’ll come back when it’s time for the results.”
“No, Wangchen, didn’t Wang Lingniang just say she wants a poem about qin and music for Miss Su? Aren’t you going to participate?”
“Participate in what?” Gu Wangchen shook his head, unconcerned. “You already know what my level is. Do you think I could write a poem that would satisfy Su Qianhua?”
Although his mind was filled with countless poems, lyrics, and odes from his previous life—especially those related to qin and musical themes—he still found the idea of being a plagiarist a little contemptible.
Besides, he wasn’t interested in shocking the crowd at such a place just yet—not as a playboy making a name for himself.
Not to mention, he already knew that even if this round of the “literary contest” was taken by someone else, there would still be other competitions to come.
The content of the contests didn’t matter—what mattered was the atmosphere Wang Lingniang wanted to create.
Thinking of this, he sighed softly. “Alright, let’s just sit back and watch the show this round.”
At this, Yang Ruilin let out a frustrated sigh. “Wangchen, it’s true we can’t write good poetry, but we could…”
He pulled out a wad of silver notes from his robe and grinned. “We can buy it!”
“You want to buy a poem?”
“Of course!” Yang Ruilin nodded. “I’ve just been watching—the first-floor hall is full of poor-looking scholars. They’re probably here for the Spring Examination in Sheng’an.”
He tucked away the silver notes, full of confidence. “Who knows if they’re doing it for face or something else. They clearly have no money, yet they still come to Jingfang Pavilion. Aren’t they afraid they’ll end up pawning even their undergarments for a drink?”
Gu Wangchen shook his head gently. “Young talents have their expenses covered by the rich sons. They’re here to socialize, not just pretending to be rich.”
“In any case,” Yang Ruilin strode ahead, waving him forward,
“Come on, I’ve just spotted a poor scholar. I had someone check earlier—he’s the Jieyuan from Ludong Province, and his literary talent is impressive. I bet for five hundred taels at most, we can get a fine poem from him!”
“Jieyuan from Ludong Province?” Gu Wangchen tried to recall whether this person was mentioned in the original plot but couldn’t remember.
With that, he nodded. “Let’s go and take a look.”
Lin Yutang sat in a corner, drinking alone.
Thinking back to the conversation earlier, he’d thought everyone would discuss the Four Books and Six Classics, chat about literature and geography, or at least talk about current affairs.
Who could have guessed… the topics they actually discussed were all horse racing, falconry, curios, courtesans, and the like.
All things completely outside his realm of knowledge!
Seeing that he couldn’t join in no matter what, he was gradually ignored and excluded by the group, and finally chose to leave on his own accord.
Lin Yutang sighed softly and shook his head helplessly.
He really couldn’t fit in with the local Sheng’an crowd.
No matter. After all, his main reason for coming to Sheng’an was to attend the Spring Examination—to bring honor to himself, his parents, and even his clan—not to force himself into the local circle of playboys.
He raised his cup and drank it all in one go, his vision turning a little blurry as he glanced up at the silk-draped high stage.
Honestly, that fleeting glimpse just now had truly made his heart skip a beat.
He’d never seen a woman of such ethereal beauty before. He felt that even if the fairies from his treasured paintings came to life, they might not compare to that purple-robed immortal figure.
He wanted to see her true face.
Thinking of this, Lin Yutang rubbed his drunken eyes, pulled himself together, and muttered, “A poem about qin and music, is it?”
Scanning the brilliantly lit main hall for a moment, and recalling that stunning glimpse, an idea instantly took shape in his mind.
No sooner thought than done, Lin Yutang asked a maid for brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Rolling up his sleeves, he prepared to get started.
“Young master, may I ask your name?”
Just as he touched brush to paper, before he’d written even the first character, a voice suddenly reached his ears.
He looked over, and his pupils suddenly shrank.
The two approaching him were precisely the pair of notorious wastrels—the same Gu Wangchen and Yang Ruilin that the scholar surnamed Fu had mentioned earlier.
Especially Gu Wangchen—his impression of this man couldn’t be deeper.
Counting yesterday, this was already the third time he’d seen him.
And this time, at such close range…
Lin Yutang was speechless for a moment, his eyes running up and down Gu Wangchen, staring so much that Gu Wangchen began to feel uncomfortable.
“Uh… Young master, is there something on my face?”
Gu Wangchen frowned and instinctively took a step back. He couldn’t help feeling there was something odd about this Jieyuan from Ludong.
Damn, could he be a fake Ludong native—actually from Shu instead?
He respected all preferences, but being the object of someone else’s interests himself—he’d really rather pass.
“…I am Lin Yutang. May I ask what business the two young masters have with me?” Lin Yutang finally regained his senses, hurriedly collecting his gaze, cupped his hands and greeted them with neither arrogance nor humility.
“We’ve long admired Brother Lin’s reputation and your performance in the Ludong provincial exams, so we came to ask a favor,” Yang Ruilin got straight to the point.
“And what would that be, gentlemen?”
Yang Ruilin glanced at the brush and ink in his hand and said, “Brother Lin also plans to compose a poem for Miss Su?”
“That’s exactly it.” Lin Yutang nodded—there was no shame in admitting it.
“Alas!” Yang Ruilin sighed, lamenting, “Brother Lin, to be frank, Wangchen and I had the same idea, but… our own literary talent is lacking. We know we can’t write a poem that would satisfy Miss Su, so we came to ask Brother Lin for one.”
He pointed to Gu Wangchen and introduced, “Wangchen has admired Miss Su for a long time. Today, he swore he’d win her favor, so…”
“We hope Brother Lin might help him.”
With that, Yang Ruilin pulled a silver note worth a hundred taels from his robe and pressed it on the table with the inkstone.
“This…”
When Lin Yutang saw the one hundred tael denomination, his brow couldn’t help but twitch.
A hundred taels—that was nearly three years’ income for his entire family.
But as a scholar, how could he bow for mere grain?
Thinking of this, he grew solemn. “I appreciate your feelings, but as one well-versed in the classics, this is something… I simply cannot do.”
“Not enough?” Yang Ruilin didn’t mind, producing two more notes of the same value and slapping them onto the table. “Three hundred taels.”
“No, gentlemen, it’s not a matter of money…”
“Eight hundred taels!” Yang Ruilin drew out a five hundred tael note with a flourish.
Lin Yutang fell silent on the spot.
Eight hundred taels—eight hundred taels!
He thought of his aging parents at home and wavered.
But remembering the teachings of the sages, and recalling that fleeting glimpse just now, Lin Yutang steeled himself, pushed the four notes back to Yang Ruilin, and said, “Gentlemen, please leave. I absolutely cannot do such a thing!”
“Still not enough? Not to boast, but with eight hundred taels you could buy a house in Sheng’an…”
“That’s enough, Ruilin. If Brother Lin is unwilling, let it be.” Gu Wangchen interrupted the increasingly frustrated Yang Ruilin and pulled him behind, giving Lin Yutang a calm smile:
“Brother Lin’s integrity… I, Gu Wangchen, truly admire it. Just as Lingniang said, what Miss Su wants is a kindred spirit whose music harmonizes with hers, not some playboy reeking of copper coins.”
He clasped his hands behind his back, eyes half-closed, and continued, “Well then… Allow me to wish Brother Lin luck, may you seize the top prize and win Miss Su’s favor.”
“Thank you for your kind words, Young Master Gu.”