The two of them returned to the private room.
Gu Wangchen, ever so composed, poured himself another cup of tea, taking small sips as he enjoyed the massage and kneading services from the attendants of Jingfang Pavilion.
“I say, Brother Wangchen, if that Lin Yutang won’t sell, then so be it. We can just find someone else to buy from, can’t we? He’s not the only one with talent—our Great Qian spans millions of miles, overflowing with gifted scholars who excel in poetry, song, and prose. We have as many as we want!”
Yang Ruilin sat on the other side, waving away the attendant who wished to serve him, clearly puzzled.
“And another thing, I saw it—he’s obviously just arrogant because of his talent, pretending to be aloof,” Yang Ruilin’s eyes flickered as he complained, “Earlier, he was drinking with another group, but midway through he left that circle on his own.”
“I’ve seen plenty like him—think they’re hot stuff because they have a bit of talent or minor fame, and then look down on us so-called idle rich with no ability.”
Seeing Yang Ruilin’s resentment, Gu Wangchen put down his teacup and comforted him, “Enough, Ruilin. There’s no need to get worked up over something so trivial.”
He turned to glance outside the private room, listening to the endless commotion from the hall downstairs, and smiled gently, “Scholars have their own bottom line. I think that’s a good thing. Our Great Qian needs upright currents like him.”
“Maybe he’s upright, but we’re the ones losing out!” Thinking of the ten thousand taels he had bet, Yang Ruilin’s heart ached. “Brother Wangchen, that’s ten thousand taels! Your odds are a staggering ten to one—if we win, that’s a hundred thousand taels, a hundred thousand taels!”
Even for the son of the Minister of Revenue, a hundred thousand taels was no small sum.
He couldn’t help but feel anxious.
Noticing his slightly desperate look, Gu Wangchen sat up, waved the attendant away, and spoke slowly, “Ruilin, just rest easy. When have I, Gu Wangchen, ever failed to deliver on my promises?”
“That Su Qianhua, I’ll definitely win her over tonight.”
“Brother Wangchen, ai!” Yang Ruilin stood up and paced the private room. Seemingly hearing Wang Lingniang’s voice outside, he walked over to Gu Wangchen and said anxiously:
“You absolutely have a way, don’t you? You got someone to write a poem for you in advance, didn’t you?”
“Hurry up and take it out, Brother Wangchen, the deadline is almost up, and people are already submitting their works!”
Gu Wangchen pushed his hand aside, stood up and stretched, sighing helplessly, “Fine. Since you’re so anxious, Ruilin, I’ll compose a poem right here and now and guarantee we’ll take first place.”
“I knew it! I knew Brother Wangchen had a plan!”
Yang Ruilin’s expression brightened. He thought to himself that now their victory was assured—Brother Wangchen surely knew the poem’s theme in advance, and must’ve had someone ghostwrite it for him to memorize.
A hundred thousand taels, here I come!
In no time at all, Gu Wangchen picked up a charcoal brush and wrote a seven-character quatrain on xuan paper in a bold, flowing hand. Yang Ruilin couldn’t help but lean over to take a look.
“This…”
When he saw the content, his heart skipped a beat. He hurriedly grabbed Gu Wangchen’s arm. “Brother Wangchen, this is just an appetizer, right? The real poem isn’t written yet, is it?”
“Hmm? This is the poem I’m submitting. See how rhythmic it is? It includes both the themes of ‘qin’ and ‘melody’.” Gu Wangchen raised his brow, explaining.
“No, Brother Wangchen, I might not have much talent and can’t write good poetry, but I can still tell what’s good or bad,” Yang Ruilin swallowed, his voice trembling, “To be honest, I feel like…this poem is just for fun.”
“What’s more, you didn’t even give it a title!”
Gu Wangchen put down the charcoal brush and said casually, “I’m not particularly talented, as you know. You insisted I compose a poem to submit, so after racking my brains this is all I could come up with.”
“Besides… you did remind me, it doesn’t have a title yet.”
Gu Wangchen picked up the charcoal brush again, thought for a moment, then wrote: “Presented to the Beauty Su Qianhua.”
After finishing, he didn’t hesitate—signed his name below, then waved to the attendant to deliver it to the high platform.
“All right, Ruilin, what’s done is done. Let’s go.”
“It’s over, it’s all over, my ten thousand taels are really going down the drain this time!” Yang Ruilin looked utterly despondent, and was absentmindedly pulled into the first-floor hall by Gu Wangchen.
Wang Lingniang looked at the thick stack of poems on the table in front of the stage, beaming from ear to ear. The excitement Su Qianhua’s appearance had brought tonight far exceeded her expectations.
All her scheming over the past two years, all the money she spent to hire the array master from the Qingyi Sect, and that last-minute inspiration—the “glimpse of a stunning beauty”—had all paid off.
Stifling her smile, she walked up to the high platform and announced loudly, “Talented gentlemen and ladies, the time is up! I’ll now begin reading everyone’s poems aloud. To ensure fairness, not only will Qianhua see and hear them, but all of you present may also enjoy them together!”
“Hurry and start! My poem will surely astonish everyone here!”
“Nonsense! My poem is number one under heaven!”
“Quiet, the lot of you! See that person there? The top scorer from Ludong Province—his ‘Ode to Early Rice’ from the provincial exam was so famous even I’ve heard of it. Compared to him, you’re nothing!”
“‘Ode to Early Rice’? Never heard of it.”
“Heh, you two country bumpkins! Never even heard of that one and you still dare show your faces here?”
“Get lost! I can’t be bothered with you. Just watch how I win first prize in a moment!”
Listening to the buzz of the crowd below, Wang Lingniang flashed a charming smile, then took the first poem from the attendant and began reciting in a clear, resonant voice.
As soon as she finished, a wave of sighs erupted from below.
“That’s it? That’s your poem? See? Miss Su behind the gauze curtain didn’t even react.”
“What do you know? My poem—my poem is on too high a level for you commoners to understand!”
After speaking, the young noble who had boasted moments ago flushed red and swept his sleeves, leaving in embarrassment.
“All right, it seems you’re all dissatisfied with the first poem. Coincidentally, both Qianhua and I feel the same,” Wang Lingniang glanced at the departing young man, confirmed his identity, then bluntly said, “Let’s move on to the next talented scholar’s poem.”
One poem, two poems, more than a dozen.
Poem after poem, none managed to stir the beauty behind the gauze curtain even the slightest.
The reactions from the crowd below rose and fell like a roller coaster.
Quite a few of these poems were excellent—so why had Miss Su still not selected a single one?
Even if she didn’t choose outright, shouldn’t at least some of them have made it to the “second review” behind the curtain?
Just as the crowd was puzzling over this, Wang Lingniang on stage cleared her throat, picked up the voice-amplifying talisman, and opened the next poem.
When she saw the name at the bottom, her face instantly lit up, and she announced in a loud voice, “All right, talented gentlemen and ladies, this next poem was written by one of our most outstanding scholars tonight!”
“Who is it? Who?”
The curiosity of the crowd was instantly piqued. To be honest, during the previous readings, Wang Lingniang hadn’t once said, “This is by one of our outstanding scholars.”
Confirming that she now had everyone’s attention, Wang Lingniang didn’t intend to keep them guessing any longer and declared:
“Of course, it’s the top scorer from our Great Qian’s Ludong Province—Lin Yutang, Young Master Lin!”