Chapter 37: It’s All Right, I Have Another Song!
Without waiting for the audience's reaction, Qiao Songshan began reciting aloud:
“Unable to sleep in the night rain, the western wind chills a traveler’s robe.”
His voice was clear and resonant as he spoke, his posture upright and his gaze free from the slightest hint of nervousness or embarrassment—only composure and ease were evident. Clearly, he had great confidence in the poem written by Cheng Guang.
The moment he opened his mouth, everyone felt their hearts skip a beat. Even those martial men who usually had little interest in poetry found themselves turning to listen. Just from the first line, a sense of solitude in a rainy night permeated the air, as though one stood alone amidst a storm in utter silence.
“This opening line is extraordinary.”
“The choice of words and the imagery are perfect. What comes next?”
“Everyone, be quiet—let’s listen carefully!”
Many scholars found themselves stunned by the opening verse, struck as if by lightning, frozen in place as they listened with undivided attention.
Among the crowd, Wen Qinghe noticed the meticulous choice of words and the vivid imagery as Qiao Songshan recited the first line. Compared to many poems crafted by academy students who had labored over countless volumes, this one possessed a rare vitality.
“Is the heir truly...?”
“Could he actually be capable of composing poetry?”
Wen Qinghe murmured, unable to fathom why, but just from the first line, he felt that the poem Qiao Songshan was reciting might well rival the previous “Watching the Brightness,” and perhaps even surpass it.
At the same time, in the central chamber of Jade Pavilion, Bai Shuxuan’s beautiful eyes widened in surprise, a hint of astonishment flickering within them.
“The heir... is he truly capable of writing poetry? Could the poem Qiao Songshan is reciting really be his?”
She had initially been perplexed, for she had never heard of the heir composing poetry. Had he possessed such talent, she would never have arranged the current situation designed to put him in the spotlight.
Bai Shuxuan had assumed that, for Cheng Guang’s sake, Qiao Songshan would simply cobble together a few lines to save face—thus restoring Cheng Guang’s dignity without drawing criticism, a perfect solution.
Yet, upon listening closely to the poem recited by Qiao Songshan, Bai Shuxuan instinctively sensed from the very first line that this was no haphazard creation.
She and Wen Qinghe found their thoughts converging, both feeling that the poem Qiao Songshan was reciting was far from simple.
Moreover, there had been no opportunity for the heir to purchase a poem.
“Does he truly possess literary talent?”
For reasons unknown, Bai Shuxuan’s opinion of Cheng Guang began to change. Previously, she had looked down on him, considering him little more than a spoiled second-generation scion, a frivolous playboy. Subduing him with her methods had seemed a trivial matter.
Now, upon reconsideration—
It appeared she had been blind.
...
When Qiao Songshan recited the first line, Jade Pavilion fell utterly silent.
All eyes were fixed on Cheng Guang, who stood by the railing with an air of serene indifference, as if he were a figure to be revered.
“Under the bright moon, mountain shadows lie still; the sky vast, the wild geese’s cry faint.”
Qiao Songshan continued, his voice slow and steady.
As his words faded, one could hear a pin drop.
Goosebumps prickled across the crowd.
Expressions hardened in shock, as if they had seen a ghost.
Everyone in Jade Pavilion had some understanding of poetry—even the martial men could discern whether a poem was good or bad.
Having heard the entire poem, they were astonished to find that the one Qiao Songshan recited surpassed the previous “Watching the Brightness.”
It must be noted that the heir had been under their close watch this entire time; he had had no chance to acquire a poem to impress them at the last moment.
Even those who rarely enjoyed reading were surprised by Cheng Guang’s transformation.
The looks cast his way now carried a sense of: “We are all ordinary, so how is it that you alone excel?”
Silence reigned as everyone gazed at Cheng Guang, each harboring their own thoughts.
Only after several moments did the room erupt in a stir.
“Unable to sleep in the night rain, the western wind chills a traveler’s robe.”
“Under the bright moon, mountain shadows lie still; the sky vast, the wild geese’s cry faint.”
“Remarkable!”
“I may not fully understand, but this poem feels exceptional.”
“This is truly a masterpiece—how could anyone conceive of ‘under the bright moon, mountain shadows lie still; the sky vast, the wild geese’s cry faint’?”
“If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve never heard this poem before, I’d suspect it was another purchase by the heir. But who would sell such a poem? At this level, no amount of gold could buy it!”
“We’ve misjudged the heir; it seems he’s simply been hiding his talents.”
“With just this poem, the heir’s talent is proven. Why, then, did he claim the previous poem was not his? With such skill, why would he need to buy poetry?”
“Who knows? Perhaps ‘Watching the Brightness’ was also his, but he thought it wasn’t good enough, so he refused to claim it.”
“Is that even possible?”
The crowd marveled and discussed in awe.
Behind the screen, Bai Shuxuan’s eyes widened, her lips pressed together as she gazed at Cheng Guang in confusion, unable to comprehend how he could compose such exquisite poetry.
Why had he not presented this poem at first, but instead used the one she had sent?
If “Watching the Brightness” had been purchased, others might believe it, but this poem—whose lines not even the greatest scholars could craft—could not be measured by wealth.
To compose just one such poem would be enough to secure lifelong prosperity and a place of honor at the Da Zhou Academy.
...
“Could it be... he truly possesses such talent? Was I mistaken?”
Bai Shuxuan lowered her gaze, her emotions in turmoil.
Had she known of Cheng Guang’s poetic talent, she would never have orchestrated this scenario, granting him the chance to shine before others.
Among the crowd, Wen Qinghe’s expression shifted, torn between confusion, envy, and bitterness, finally settling into pure frustration.
He had always believed himself the most talented poet present; even with the heir’s noble status, no one could surpass him in the art of verse.
Yet—
Even disregarding the previous “Watching the Brightness,” the poem presented by the heir now utterly eclipsed all Wen Qinghe’s own works.
His reputation as Da Zhou Academy’s foremost poet now seemed a joke.
So much for being praised by great scholars...
So much for being the pride of the academy...
Wen Qinghe could scarcely imagine: if the heir ever entered the academy, those esteemed scholars would shamelessly beg him to accept them as disciples.
Wen Qinghe was overwhelmed with discomfort—and envy.
Within Jade Pavilion, after Qiao Songshan finished reciting, and the initial stir faded, everyone looked at him with complicated expressions—admiration, confusion, bewilderment, questioning their own lives.
They were intensely jealous that Qiao Songshan could recite such breathtaking verses.
The air thickened once more, silent to the extreme.
In this strange atmosphere, as everyone expected Cheng Guang to enter Bai Shuxuan’s chamber and enjoy her favor, Qiao Songshan suddenly spoke again.
“Why is everyone so quiet? Do you think my boss’s poem isn’t good enough? Don’t worry, my boss has another one.”
“Mountains silent, the new moon rising; the stream cold, waters near stillness.”
“Moonlight reflects on clear waves, the wind stirs the dream boat.”
Yet another astonishing poem flowed unhurriedly from Qiao Songshan’s lips.
Each word was like a mighty drumbeat, thunderous and powerful.
Aside from the carefree, broad-smiling Qiao Songshan, who was openly admiring his boss, everyone else—including Bai Shuxuan and Wen Qinghe—nearly lost control, their expressions twitching uncontrollably.
Many academy students, nearly in tears, felt utterly defeated.
You think the poem isn’t good? Directly insulting me wouldn’t hurt as much!
...