“Jieyuan of the Province of Eastern Lu?”
As soon as these words were spoken, the entire audience was shocked.
One must know, the lands of Great Qian stretch for countless millions of miles, with subjects beyond measure. In the two capitals, twenty-one provinces, and nine protectorates of Great Qian, there are only thirty-two Jieyuan selected every three years through the imperial examination.
What’s more, the Province of Eastern Lu has always been a populous region, the home of the Sage himself—there’s no need to elaborate on the prestige carried by the Jieyuan of Eastern Lu.
With this thought, the audience couldn’t help but raise their voices, urging Wang Lingniang to recite quickly.
“I’m coming~”
Once she was certain the entire Jingfang Pavilion’s attention had been drawn to her—or rather, to the title of “Jieyuan of the Province of Eastern Lu”—Wang Lingniang stopped playing coy, and raised her voice in recitation:
“‘Upon Hearing Miss Su of Jingfang Pavilion Playing the Qin.’”
As soon as the title was revealed, the audience instantly fell silent, all eyes focused, ears pricked, quietly listening to the poem of the Jieyuan from the Province of Eastern Lu.
“Jade terrace, seven strings wash away the world’s clamor, unbending even amidst blossoms in full bloom.”
With the first line spoken, hushed murmurs immediately rose from the previously silent hall.
Poetry and verse are the height of elegance in Great Qian—everyone from the elderly to children can recite a line or two of the classics.
Let alone these scholars and gentlefolk seated below.
So, as soon as they heard the first line, they instantly recognized the level of this Jieyuan from Eastern Lu.
“Jade terrace, seven strings wash away the world’s clamor, unbending even amidst blossoms in full bloom…” As Wang Lingniang purposely paused on stage, the scholars below savored the first line, casting glances at the Jieyuan sitting quietly in the corner.
That unremarked corner was, in an instant, thrust into the spotlight.
As for Lin Yutang himself, under the gazes of all, he showed not the slightest hint of fear, sitting straight and tall, smiling as he nodded in greeting to each.
Wang Lingniang also glanced at Lin Yutang from the stage. Once she felt the mood reach its peak again, she continued with the next line:
“Clamor the world cannot fathom; only pure notes soar to the heavens.”
As the poem ended, silence instantly fell over the hall.
Be it scholar or gentlewoman, wealthy scion, or even the maids weaving through the corridors—everyone slowly savored Lin Yutang’s “Upon Hearing Miss Su of Jingfang Pavilion Playing the Qin.”
“Jade terrace, seven strings wash away the world’s clamor, unbending even amidst blossoms in full bloom. Clamor the world cannot fathom; only pure notes soar to the heavens.”
Muttering Lin Yutang’s poem, the plump scholar surnamed Fu hurried over, gripping Lin Yutang’s shoulder in excitement: “Brother Yutang, Brother Yutang, this poem of yours…”
“Brother Fu, calm down, calm down.”
Lin Yutang gently moved away Fu’s hand, his voice steady and composed.
“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down?” The scholar Fu waved his arms to the crowd and cried out, “Did you see that? This is Lin Yutang, Jieyuan of Eastern Lu—my dear friend, Fu Jialiang’s closest companion!”
Buzz buzz…
Fu Jialiang’s words were like a stone thrown into a placid lake, stirring up towering waves. The audience erupted with excitement, enough to shake the very roof.
“Brother Yutang, your literary talent is outstanding indeed! This ‘Upon Hearing Miss Su of Jingfang Pavilion Playing the Qin’ is the most exceptional poem about the qin, music, and beauty I’ve heard in years!”
“Jade terrace, seven strings wash away the world’s clamor, unbending even amidst blossoms in full bloom…” Another scholar in a Confucian cap muttered as he approached Lin Yutang, voice trembling with excitement: “Brother Lin, your opening line is truly a masterpiece—‘unbending even amidst blossoms in full bloom’—is this not the spirit of we scholars?”
“Indeed. If Brother Lin’s first line astonished the audience, then the second did more than just astonish the crowd—it astounded Miss Su herself!” A second scholar turned to glance at Su Qianhua behind the gauze curtain, smiling as he quoted: “‘Clamor the world cannot fathom; only pure notes soar to the heavens.’”
“‘The world cannot fathom, pure notes soar to the heavens’… Ha! As expected of the Jieyuan from the Province of Eastern Lu. That resolve—I, Du, truly admire it!”
“Yes, ‘pure notes soar to the heavens’—isn’t that just like the fleeting glimpse of Miss Su’s music just now?”
“This poem never once mentions qin, music, or the person, yet every line is about qin, music, and beauty. Truly remarkable…”
Surrounded by the enthusiastic crowd, Lin Yutang suddenly felt as if he’d returned to the day the provincial exam results were announced and his doorstep was worn thin by visitors.
So it turns out… it’s not that talent and achievement are useless in Sheng’an, but that they must be used in the right place!
He instinctively glanced at the graceful figure behind the gauze curtain, his heart surging with pride.
Father, mother, do you see? Your son, in Sheng’an, has brought honor to the Lin family!
Tonight’s champion—it must be him!
With this thought, he forcibly suppressed his excitement, restored his calm demeanor, and responded one by one to the congratulations and greetings.
As the excitement below reached its height, Wang Lingniang took Lin Yutang’s poem and stepped into the gauze-draped alcove.
“Qianhua, what do you think of this poem from Young Master Lin Yutang?”
“Mm… not bad.” Seated gracefully on a lotus dais, the purple-robed beauty nodded slightly, her lovely eyes lifting as she took the poem Wang Lingniang offered.
Her gaze skimmed the refined, elegant script. She pursed her lips, a glimmer flickering in her violet eyes.
Lin Yutang… According to her knowledge, he was a powerless, penniless scholar, without even the smallest cultivation.
Yet with his status as Jieyuan and such literary talent, in the coming spring examination, he was certain to achieve the rank of presented scholar, perhaps even contend for second or third, or even first.
In other words, if she chose him, not only would he be easy to control, but the return would be substantial.
But…
She recalled the other figure she’d seen on entering, and the instinctive summons she’d felt from him. For a moment, Su Qianhua couldn’t decide.
Lin Yutang was a safe choice, his potential was high—but progress would be too slow. If she relied on him to accomplish her goals, who knew how long it would take.
Her time was running out, and the situation in the secret realm was unstable.
She hesitated.
“Qianhua, have you made your decision?”
“Mm, Lingniang… I am rather satisfied with Young Master Lin’s poem. Let’s keep him for now.”
“Alright, Qianhua. Young Master Lin is quite a decent person, and handsome too. I think you could choose him. But… let’s hear the rest of the poems before making your final decision.” Wang Lingniang reminded her.
“Okay.”
Stepping out from behind the curtain, Wang Lingniang spread her hands and announced loudly: “Qianhua is quite satisfied with Young Master Lin’s poem. The original has been kept!”
Buzz buzz…
A new wave of excited voices broke out below. Lin Yutang, who’d already attracted a fair few, was now surrounded again.
“Congratulations, Brother Yutang!”
“Congratulations, congratulations!”
For a moment, it seemed tonight’s champion was all but decided.
“Brother Wangchen, let’s go…”
Watching the lively scene, Yang Ruilin sighed, tugging at Gu Wangchen’s sleeve to head upstairs.
“Why are we leaving? My poem hasn’t even been presented.” Gu Wangchen stopped him and asked in return.
“Brother Wangchen, let me be blunt. Unless Miss Su is blind, your poem… will never win!”
Gu Wangchen replied indifferently, “What’s wrong with my poem? I think it expresses my feelings perfectly, and this is my level. You’re the one who insisted I write it.”
“Yes, I insisted. But if you don’t write, how will you win?”
“Heh, I told you—I have my own plan. That ten thousand taels of silver—no, our hundred thousand taels—you’d better start thinking about how to spend it!” Gu Wangchen crossed his arms and leaned lazily against the pillar, gaze fixed on Su Qianhua behind the gauze.
Little fox, are you ready to receive this young master’s ‘big stick’?
As the commotion died down, Wang Lingniang prepared to read the next poem.
After glancing over its contents, then at the signature below, her smile faded, a look of hesitation on her face.
She looked over at Gu Wangchen. After receiving a nod, she finally spoke:
“Well then, esteemed scholars and gentlefolk, let us proceed to the next poem. This one is composed by Young Master Gu Wangchen.”
“The title—‘To the Beauty, Su Qianhua.’”