Chapter 46: The Bewildered Gu Xirou

The carriage curtain was lifted, revealing only the profile of Qin Yunmian. Her expression was ethereal and delicate, and her transcendent aura made her seem like someone not belonging to this dusty world.

Yin Rong could not help but be stunned for a moment. With such an otherworldly demeanor, coupled with that carriage, this young woman was clearly no ordinary person.

What kind of connection did Jiang Han have with her?

Nearby, Wang Siyi noticed Gu Xirou's expression sink instantly, and she could not help but think: Xirou actually isn't as indifferent to Jiang Han as she claims! Deep down, she still cares to some extent.

"Very well, I shall wait for you," Qin Yunmian's clear and cold voice rang out. She lowered the curtain, leaving many of the scholars to snap back to their senses, whereupon they began to speculate about the relationship between Jiang Han and this fairy-like maiden.

"Didn't they say Jiang Han was completely incompetent and got rejected by Gu Xirou? How is it that he and that young woman seem to be on such good terms?"

"More than just good terms! I saw the two of them riding in the same carriage; I'm afraid it's that kind of relationship."

"Hiss! Could that widely discussed annulment actually have been initiated by Jiang Han himself?"

Hearing the whispered discussions of the crowd, Gu Xirou felt a surge of anger, her expression turning terrifyingly dark.

Jiang Han looked at the gathered crowd and smiled. "Since you all wish for me to participate in this literary gathering, then state it: what is the theme of today's gathering?"

Yin Rong sneered inwardly, thinking to himself that Jiang Han was merely courting his own humiliation! Today, he would strip away the impostor's disguise and let everyone witness the true, hollow face of this incompetent fool!

Thinking quickly, he reasoned that to prevent this fellow from having prepared poems in advance, he must set a more difficult topic to expose the limits of Jiang Han's true ability!

He immediately declared: "Today is the Qingming Festival. Logically speaking, the theme should be Qingming, but there are already far too many poems about Qingming. Let us choose a different theme: compose a ci poetry piece on the subject of 'Spring Scenery'!"

At these words, many furrowed their brows. The difficulty of *ci* poetry was even higher than that of regulated verse because, while regular poems allowed for ancient styles with fewer restrictions, *ci* poetry was bound by rigid tonal patterns and tunes.

Hearing this, Jiang Han found it quite amusing. He smiled and said, "Since you are the one setting the topic, why don't you lead the way with a piece?"

Seeing him stall for time, Yin Rong grew even more certain that Jiang Han was incapable of producing anything. He smiled and said, "Very well, since Brother Jiang wishes for me to compose one, I shall recite a piece to the tune of *Lang Taosha*!"

Glancing around and pondering for a moment, he began: "Smiling, I drink a cup of wine, facing the eastern wind. The fine rain of Qingming gathers once again. Partings are long and togetherness is brief, the sorrow of farewell knows no end..."

As his recitation concluded, the courtyard erupted into thunderous applause.

"Wonderful verse! Truly wonderful!"

"Especially the second half of the piece; it is genuinely breathtaking."

"Young Master Yin possesses great talent."

Jiang Han cast another glance at Yin Rong. Though the piece was not exceptionally brilliant, it was at least competent and well-structured. The fact that Yin Rong could compose it so quickly proved he indeed possessed a certain level of skill.

Amidst the cheers of the crowd, Yin Rong raised his head with smug complacency and smiled, saying, "You flatter me, you flatter me."

Then, turning back to Jiang Han, he said, "Brother Jiang, you are a man of great talent, especially skilled in *ci* poetry. Surely you can compose something even better than mine. Please, the floor is yours!"

Jiang Han asked, "Do you truly wish for me to compose a piece?"

Yin Rong nodded. "Naturally."

Zhou Kang shouted loudly, "Jiang Han, are you deliberately stalling for time? If you can't write anything, just admit defeat and confess that your previous poems were all ghostwritten by someone else!"

Everyone was watching Jiang Han. Some looked skeptical, some sneered, and others watched with cold detachment.

Wang Siyi could not help holding her breath; truth be told, she felt somewhat anxious for Jiang Han.

Unlike Gu Xirou's suspicions, she believed that if Jiang Han's previous poetry had indeed been ghostwritten by Jiang Zhensheng, someone of Zhongli You's stature would surely have seen through it. Therefore, there was a high probability that those poems were genuinely Jiang Han's own work...

This realization stirred some calculations in her heart. Since Gu Xirou did not want him, she could seize the advantage of proximity... Thus, her inner sympathies still leaned toward Jiang Han.

Yet, within such a short span of time, composing a fine piece of *ci* poetry was by no means easy, let alone surpassing Yin Rong. If he failed to produce anything, Jiang Han's reputation would be utterly ruined.

At that very moment, however, Jiang Han merely smiled. "Who says I cannot compose one? A piece of *ci* is as easy as reaching out a hand."

With these words, he took two steps forward, gazed out at the distant green hills and clear waters, and softly murmured. In Wang Siyi's eyes, that retreating figure suddenly appeared unfathomable.

Gu Xirou, meanwhile, sneered inwardly. *Still putting on airs even at a time like this! If you can actually produce a good poem today, consider me, Gu Xirou, completely blind!*

At that moment, Jiang Han turned back around and announced, "Since you desire a *ci*, I shall compose one to the tune of *Die Lian Hua · Spring Scenery*!"

Wang Siyi was taken aback. *He's thought of one already, just like that?*

Yin Rong gave a cold, faint smile, utterly disbelieving that Jiang Han was capable of such a feat.

Jiang Han's gaze swept across the faces of the crowd, lingering for a moment when it fell upon Gu Xirou. Then, pacing forward at a leisurely pace, he slowly chanted:

"The flowers fade, leaving withered red, and the green apricots are small. When the swallows fly past, clear streams wind around humble homes."

Upon hearing these opening lines, a few scholars nodded slightly. *It has some level of skill, but not much!*

"On the branches, the willow catkins are blown until they are few. Where in the wide world are there no fragrant grasses?" Jiang Han recited in a clear, resonant voice.

Many drew in a breath involuntarily. The smile on Yin Rong's face froze completely, and Gu Xirou wore an expression of sheer astonishment.

The meaning of these lines was simple to grasp: spring was coming to an end, and the willow catkins were dwindling, but there was no need to worry—where under heaven could fragrant grasses possibly be lacking?

If it were merely a literal meaning, it might have ended there, but Yin Rong could clearly discern that these two lines were unmistakably aimed at Gu Xirou.

The implication was glaringly obvious: So what if Gu Xirou annulled the engagement? Where in this vast world was there a shortage of beautiful women?

Many of the scholars could not help turning their gazes toward Gu Xirou, only to find her complexion looking rather unsightly.

Jiang Han continued his recitation: "Within the wall, a swing; beyond the wall, a path. Beyond the wall, a passerby; within the wall, a beauty laughs."

"The laughter gradually fades, the sound gradually dies away. Affectionate feelings, instead, are plagued by the unfeeling!"

When Jiang Han recited the second half of the piece, the entire courtyard fell into an absolute, pin-drop silence!

Everyone was stunned by the breathtaking brilliance of the verse, and then they could not help casting their eyes once more toward Gu Xirou.

Yin Rong's expression shifted drastically. The poem was simply too exceptional; though he desperately wished to dismiss it, the more he savored it, the more he realized he could find no grounds for criticism.

What humiliated him the most was that this poem was clearly written for Gu Xirou, with the final line in particular carrying an unsparing directness!

Gu Xirou trembled, her face turning pale as a sheet. She looked at Jiang Han in sheer disbelief, her fingers involuntarily tightening around the hem of her dress.

Within her heart surged a chaotic mix of shock, incomprehension, bewilderment, and even a lingering trace of remorse.

*He actually managed to compose a piece of this caliber? This poem is not merely good, it is simply...*

Even Yin Rong himself might not have been able to write something like this!

Most crucially, the poem felt like a biting mockery of her own blindness.

The probing gazes of the surrounding crowd only intensified her sense of acute humiliation.

Wang Siyi looked alternately at Jiang Han and her close friend, a wave of relief washing over her. *Affectionate feelings, instead, are plagued by the unfeeling...* Jiang Han's meaning could not have been clearer. How deep his affection for Gu Xirou had once been, only to end up as unrequited emotional torment. But since "where in the wide world are there no fragrant grasses," why stubbornly pine for her alone?

Jiang Han had thoroughly and completely let go of Gu Xirou!

With things turning out this way, her own chances of winning his affection had just grown significantly higher.

Yet, suddenly recalling the young woman who had walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Jiang Han, Wang Siyi let out a quiet sigh inwardly. With that maiden in the picture, what chance of winning did she truly have?

"A magnificent poem! With this single piece, Jiang Han is bound to become the premier talent of Yunyang County!"

"This poem... is clearly written for Gu Xirou!"

"On the branches, the willow catkins are blown until they are few. Where in the wide world are there no fragrant grasses... These two lines are nothing short of a divine stroke!"

"Zhou Kang, you doubted Young Master Jiang's talent just a moment ago. What do you have to say for yourself now?"

Many had been entirely conquered by the poem; the deeper their previous skepticism of Jiang Han had been, the greater their current disdain for Zhou Kang.

Zhou Kang's complexion instantly turned deathly pale. Had he known in advance that Jiang Han was capable of producing such a masterpiece, he would never have acted as Yin Rong's vanguard.