Volume 1, Chapter 47: Young Master Fan, Please Ascend to the Third Floor

As Liu Wenyans words faded, the people following him instantly broke into a chorus of jeers.

"Exactly! Do you dare to try?"

"When it comes to literary talent or appearance, how could you ever compare to Young Master Liu?"

"You had better crawl away right now before you make a complete fool of yourself!"

Liu Wenyan sneered as he looked at Fan Xiu.

In literature there is no first place, in martial arts no second.

Whether one possesses true learning or not depends entirely on who is supporting them.

Countless scholars had brought forth their most cherished masterpieces just for a glimpse of Su Ying'er.

Yet very few indeed were ever granted the privilege of seeing her true face!

Fan Xiu simply was not capable of writing a poem that could satisfy Su Ying'er.

Since meeting Su Ying'er was out of the question, the outcome would rest entirely on the judgment of the people present. As for the scholars in the crowd, they were all his men; whether a poem was good or bad was entirely a matter of his single word.

Ma Sanniang watched the antics of Liu Wenyan and his cohorts. As a veteran mistress of the pleasure quarters, how could she fail to understand the petty schemes in their hearts?

Su Ying'er was the premier beauty of the Drunken Immortal House in the capital; even she had to mind Su Ying'er's moods.

Was she someone just anyone could see at a whim?

"I think we should let this rest,"

Ma Sanniang smiled and said, "Let todays affair be for the sake of giving this elder sister some face, and let it pass."

She genuinely liked Fan Xiu and did not want to see him humiliated here.

However,

Liu Wenyan completely ignored her, turning instead to Fan Xiu. "Fan Xiu, do you dare? If you do not dare, then confess right here before us that you are nothing more than a fraud who steals the reputation of others!"

Fan Xiu stroked his chin.

If he did not produce a poem today, it seemed Liu Wenyan would not let the matter rest.

Besides, he genuinely wished to meet Su Ying'er.

Since that was the case,

Old Brother Du Mu, it shall be you. Forgive me, I am your sworn brother, Master Du.

"Bring me a brush."

Fan Xiu gave a cold command.

Ma Sanniang opened her mouth to speak, then let out a sigh.

This Fan Xiu really could not resist a provocation. Eager as she was to help, she had no idea how and could only order her attendants to prepare paper and ink.

Upstairs.

Guo Xiulan hurriedly grabbed the hem of Su Ying'er's dress.

"Little Sister Ying'er,"

Guo Xiulan said softly, "Once Fan Xiu finishes his poem later, would you grant him an audience? Consider it a favor to your elder sister."

Su Ying'er sighed and replied, "Elder Sister, aren't you putting me in a difficult position? If this precedent is set, do you have any idea how much trouble little sister will face in the future?"

"I am begging you, elder sister never asks anyone for favors," Guo Xiulan pleaded, her face full of entreaty.

Su Ying'er shook her head. "Sister, please spare me. If the poem he writes is truly acceptable, I will naturally see him; if it is mediocre, then please forgive your little sister's inability to comply."

Guo Xiulan bit her lip, then looked down at Fan Xiu on the ground floor, letting out a helpless sigh.

*Little brother, elder sister cannot help you this time; you must rely entirely on yourself,* Guo Xiulan thought to herself.

Downstairs.

很快,

The writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were quickly prepared and placed before Fan Xiu.

Liu Wenyan exchanged a glance with several other scholars, and the group instantly understood one another.

They were ready.

No matter what kind of poem Fan Xiu produced later, they would tear it to shreds with criticism.

Ying stood quietly behind Fan Xiu.

"Fan Xiu, are you going first? Do you need my help?" Ying asked.

Fan Xiu asked with surprise, "You even understand poetry?"

"Nonsense! I am the second young miss of the Liu family of... the Blood... of Jingzhou," Ying said proudly.

She had studied alongside Xiao Ruoqing since childhood.

Whether in martial arts or literary grace, she was top-tier. Moreover, having constantly met talented scholars in the capital, composing a poem—even if not the absolute finest—would certainly not be poor.

"Forget it,"

Fan Xiu chuckled. "The poems you compose might not get you an audience with Su Ying'er, but mine certainly will!"

Hearing such confident words from Fan Xiu, Ying immediately frowned.

This fellow,

has he always been this arrogant?

You haven't even written the poem yet, and you dare make such a boast?

Is Su Ying'er someone so easily seen?

Liu Wenyan laughed aloud, "Fan Xiu, I will give you ten minutes. As long as you—"

"There is no need,"

Fan Xiu interrupted. "I will write it for you right now."

"Ah?"

Hearing this, the surrounding onlookers widened their eyes in shock.

In just the span of a few breaths, Fan Xiu had already finished composing a poem?

Was he just scribbling randomly?

Amidst the skeptical gazes of the crowd, Fan Xiu picked up the brush and began to write.

Ma Sanniang stood close by, reading the words aloud one by one as Fan Xiu brushed them onto the paper.

"A thousand miles of orioles crying, a crimson set against green, water villages and mountain towns amidst the wine-flag's breeze."

Upon reading this line, Ma Sanniang's delicate body trembled slightly.

Though seemingly a description of spring scenery, this line vividly portrayed the singing of orioles, the dancing of swallows, and the decadent, bustling nightlife of their own willow-and-blossom quarters.

Liu Wenyan furrowed his brow.

Could such a verse truly be composed in the space of a few breaths?

Upstairs.

Guo Xiulan exclaimed in pleasant surprise, "Sister Ying'er, this line sounds wonderful! 'A thousand miles of orioles crying, a crimson set against green'—isn't this describing you?"

Su Ying'er said thoughtfully, "This line is indeed well-written, using spring scenery to depict a pleasure quarter, but one can only call it good."

"Ah?"

Guo Xiulan asked doubtfully, "Is it only good?"

Su Ying'er nodded. "Yes, it is merely a simple depiction of scenery by means of scenery, lacking depth and missing the most crucial emotional resonance."

Guo Xiulan's brows locked tightly.

Yet she knew Su Ying'er's literary cultivation was extremely profound; since she said so, it must undoubtedly be the case.

At that moment,

Fan Xiu downstairs wrote out the final two lines.

Ma Sanniang read aloud: "Four hundred and eighty temples of the Southern Dynasties, how many pavilions and towers stand in the misty rain..."

The moment she finished reading, Ma Sanniang froze in place.

Not just her, but the entire previously lively Drunken Immortal House instantly fell into a dead silence.

What had begun as a landscape poem was suddenly infused with an overwhelming sense of vicissitudes with the appearance of this final couplet; the dense, heavy emotion pressed upon them so intensely that they felt almost unable to breathe.

Ying, standing behind Fan Xiu, parted her lips slightly, her eyes filled with astonishment.

Never had she imagined that Fan Xiu's poem would ultimately turn its gaze toward the Southern Dynasties.

The Southern Liang Dynasty was the regime that preceded the Great Yin Dynasty.

The Southern Dynasties had dwelled in peace south of the Yangtze River; their economy was prosperous, but their military preparedness had fallen into decay. Successive emperors indulged themselves in Buddhism and Daoism while heavy taxes burdened the populace.

The Northern Lin Imperial Court seized the opportunity to invade; the Southern emperor surrendered, and the Southern Liang perished accordingly.

Following that, the ancestors of the Great Yin raised an army to found the Great Yin Dynasty, driving the Northern Lin beyond the Northern Hero Pass into the northern steppes.

Throughout the former Southern Dynasties, Buddhist temples were everywhere.

With the collapse of the Southern Dynasties, those very temples had become desolate ruins.

This poem by Fan Xiu used the scenery of the south of the Yangtze and the desolation of temples to mourn the fall of the Southern Dynasties—was this truly a poem Fan Xiu had conjured in the space of a few breaths?

Liu Wenyan was the first to snap back to his senses, hurriedly exchanging glances with the scholars around him.

Yet not a single one of those men stepped forward.

How could they dare to criticize a poem of this caliber?

"A bunch of useless trash!"

Liu Wenyan cursed inwardly, then shouted loudly, "Though this poem is fine, it depicts the scenery of spring, whereas the current season is autumn—it is entirely out of joint with the times! Furthermore, to mock Buddhism in such a manner shows a complete disregard for the Buddha!"

Ying looked at Liu Wenyan as if he were an utter idiot.

This fellow,

how on earth did he ever pass the provincial imperial examination?

Fan Xiu sneered at Liu Wenyan. "Are you certain?"

This idiot!

He even dared to criticize Du Mu's poem?

Could he bear the consequences?

"I am naturally certain! This poem of yours simply will not do! Miss Ying'er will never take a fancy to it!" Liu Wenyan declared resolutely.

Yet no sooner had the words left his mouth than Xiaohé hurried down the stairs in a rush.

"Master Fan, my young mistress Su Ying'er invites you; please follow me to the third floor," Xiaochá said, crossing her hands over her chest and bowing gracefully.