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    TwoHands
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    190. A Poem that Stuns the Masses

    When the Qingzhou Prefect asked his question, the other officials paused their conversations and drinking, watching with silent smiles.

    Big is big, little is little, the only thing that can be both is Sun Wukong’s staff and your little brother… Xu Qi’an mentally ridiculed this fourth-rank official’s address while outwardly responding with a smile:

    “I do not deserve such praise, sir. That poem was indeed written by me.”

    Oh, so it really is him… The officials thought with realisation.

    When they first heard the name Xu Qi’an, they didn’t immediately connect it, though it did sound familiar. After some time to think, they began to suspect his identity.

    With the spread of Xu Qi’an’s renowned poems, even though the official circles and scholarly community hadn’t intentionally promoted his fame, the high-ranking officials present had the means to gather information.

    No wonder the Commissioner rushed over upon hearing his name.

    A Send-off for Yang Gong to Qingzhou, in Mianyang Pavilion had already spread far and wide. The moment this great scholar took office, he had this famous poem to lead the way, securing significant favour.

    And all of this was thanks to the Bronze Gong named Xu Qi’an before them.

    “I’ve long admired your name; you are indeed a striking figure, a dragon amongst men.”

    The Qingzhou Prefect laughed heartily, speaking with a frank and open demeanour while expertly praising Xu Qi’an.

    You flatter me… Not only a dragon among men but also a dragon among stallions. Xu Qi’an had to admit that if the roles were reversed and he became the centre of attention, the previously tedious official banter suddenly became lively and interesting. He even wished it could continue indefinitely.

    After finishing his drink, the Qingzhou Prefect glanced at the head of the table, where the Commissioner Yang Gong, a great scholar with both talent and capability, had relaxed his previously oppressive aura and looked at ease.

    At that moment, the Qingzhou Prefect suddenly thought of the troublesome stone stele. Writing a poem on it would be the best choice—simple, eye-catching, and thought-provoking.

    However, poetic talent was rare, so it hadn’t been considered. But now things were different. Xu Qi’an was here.

    What perfect timing.

    Xu Qi’an possessed great poetic talent… The Commissioner happened to be troubled by the stele inscription, causing us all a headache… Could we possibly let this talented man do the thinking for us? The Commissioner might have this in mind, but as the dignified head of the province, he might find it hard to ask directly… The Qingzhou Prefect thought quickly.

    With this in mind, the Prefect smiled and asked, “Sir Xu, do you have any other notable works from the capital?”

    He asked casually, intending to prompt Xu Qi’an to either say he had none or, if he did, to put him in the spotlight. Then, the officials could coax him into composing a poem on the spot, naturally leading to a “suggested topic.”

    Such tactics were common at banquets, usually used to encourage drinking, but now they aimed to inspire poetry—different purposes, same methods.

    …Trying to get another poem for free? Xu Qi’an intended to say “no,” but Inspector Zhang quickly intervened, smiling, “He actually does.”

    The officials looked on with interest, including Ziyang Jushi.

    What scholar doesn’t love poetry?

    Inspector Zhang easily regained the focus, took a sip of his drink, and smiled, “But it’s only half a poem. It has just started spreading in the capital, so you all probably haven’t heard it yet.”

    “Oh? Only half a poem?”

    “Please, Inspector Zhang, do tell. We are all ears,” said the Qingzhou Prefect eagerly.

    The officials were not dismissive because it was only half a poem; instead, their curiosity was piqued. For just half a poem to be famous in the capital, it had to be exceptionally good. Otherwise, Inspector Zhang wouldn’t mention it in front of everyone.

    Half a poem… Yang Gong couldn’t help but glance at Xu Qi’an before looking back at Inspector Zhang.

    Inspector Zhang put down his cup, cleared his throat, and, making sure he had everyone’s attention, recited aloud, “Drunk, he knows not if the sky floats in the water; His dream laden boat sailing atop the Milky way.”

    At that very moment, a dance was just finishing, and the music gradually faded.

    The banquet fell into silence, as the officials savoured the lines of the poem. They felt a sense of carefree detachment, unconcerned with fame and fortune, gain and loss.

    After a bout of heavy drinking, lying in a black awning boat and looking up at the starry sky, feeling as if one’s small body were lying side by side with another galaxy, a sense of carefree ease naturally emerged.

    Some swayed their heads, lost in the imagery. Others glanced at the small pond in the courtyard, where clusters of red lotuses grew. It was a shame the pond was so small.

    Ziyang Jushi clapped his hands and said, “The loftiness of this poem’s conception is unparalleled, it is certainly at the pinnacle of all poetic talent that our country has produced in the past two hundred years. Marvellous, truly marvellous.”

    He drank three cups of wine in a row, his spirit uplifted by the poetry.

    After finishing, his bright eyes fixed on Xu Qi’an. “Does this poem have a title?”

    Damn… Once wasn’t enough for you? Do I have no dignity? Xu Qi’an nearly wanted to spray him with saltwater, but he responded solemnly, “It does.”

    Ziyang Jushi looked a bit disappointed but nodded and didn’t press further, mumbling to himself, lost in reverie.

    Seeing the right moment, the Qingzhou Prefect raised his cup and praised, “What a coincidence, Commissioner Yang wishes to erect a cautionary stele in the front yard of the various offices and constabularies, but the inscription itself hasn’t been decided. Might Sir Xu compose a poem for it?”

    As soon as these words were spoken, almost everyone instinctively looked at Xu Qi’an.

    Ziyang Jushi neither agreed nor objected, watching the young Bronze Gong with a smile.

    One cup of wine for my poem? I’m not that kind of person… Xu Qi’an sighed and said, “I am accompanying Inspector Zhang to investigate a case in Yunzhou. The future is uncertain, and I am filled with anxiety. How could I have the energy or mood to write poetry? My apologies, gentlemen.”

    The Qingzhou officials were immediately disappointed. The Qingzhou Prefect, in his urgency, said, “Sir Xu’s poetic talent is extraordinary, please, do not decline.”

    Xu Qi’an shook his head in resignation and drank his wine.

    After some thought, Ziyang Jushi removed the jade thumb ring he wore and said solemnly, “The banditry in Yunzhou is severe, and this journey is indeed dangerous. Ningyan, take this jade ring. I have worn it for many years, and it is imbued with my righteous spirit, which can ward off evil.”

    Xu Qi’an’s gaze fell on the thumb ring, catching a glimpse of a flash of clear energy. He recalled what Chu Caiwei once said:

    “There are three kinds of magical artifacts in the world: those refined by Sitianjian Masters of Formations, those naturally formed by chance, and those imbued with the aura of high-ranked experts, gaining mystical properties over time.”

    This jade thumb ring belonged to the third category.

    Boss, don’t look too hard at my moral compass tonight… Xu Qi’an hurriedly accepted it, carefully stowing it in his robes, then pondered a moment and said, “For some reason, I’ve suddenly had a rush of inspiration, and a poem has come to mind.”

    Didn’t you just say you had no mood to write? The officials looked at him, bewildered, but after a few seconds, they began to understand. Their expressions turned peculiar, but they tacitly kept silent.

    Ziyang Jushi’s smile remained unchanged. “I am all ears.”

    Xu Qi’an nodded, having already decided. He intended to use the four lines he composed during the Nightwatchers’ conscience test.

    There was no poem more suitable for this occasion. If he remembered correctly, this poem was also called “Warning Stele Inscription”, specifically used to caution officials.

    He took a sip of wine, as the poem floated back into his mind. His heart seemed to return back to the state it was during the test of conscience.

    He couldn’t resist standing up, first looking at Ziyang Jushi, speaking softly:

    “Your food and your money,”

    Then towards Inspector Zhang:

    “Flesh and blood of the people.”

    Then slowly, he scanned the room full of officials, his voice suddenly turning sharp:

    “The people are easy to abuse,”

    Finally, he looked towards heaven, a rush of energy coursing through his body, as he passionately spoke the last words:

    “The heavens are hard to cheat!”

    Unconsciously, a small sliver of the Buddhist lion’s roar melded into his voice, shaking the eardrums of all the officials present, like the evening drums and morning bells, a deafening might.

    Crash… The shattering of wine glasses could be heard all around.

    Many officials revealed guilty or embarrassed looks. Towards a non-ranked Bronze Gong, they felt as if they were facing a strict superior, not daring to even breathe.

    Relatively few had no guilt in their heart, straightening their backs, spirits invigorated.

    “A good poem, what a good poem!”

    Ziyang Jushi suddenly stood, slapping the table. The great scholar’s emotions were somewhat out of control, making him seem less like a seasoned high-ranking official and more like a young scholar newly entering the officialdom, filled with vigour and righteousness.

    “If I had been able to recite this poem angrily in the court back then, to vent my frustrations, how could I have been depressed for a whole year? Xu Ningyan, oh Xu Ningyan, you are a true scholar.”

    In the courtyard, the dancers enduring the cold wind blinked their eyes, curiously observing the only young man at the banquet.

    Such spirit explains his act of attacking the Silver Gong… How many people did this poem frighten? Inspector Zhang sighed. Seeing the atmosphere becoming awkward, he diverted the topic:

    “Commissioner Yang is absolutely right. Ningyan, it’s a pity you didn’t pursue your studies back then.”

    Xu Qi’an hiccoughed and said helplessly, “My second uncle thought I was more suited for martial arts, so he didn’t let me continue my studies.”

    The officials, upon hearing this, felt quite resentful, thinking that his second uncle was heartless, wasting a true scholar. If Xu Ningyan were a scholar, the literary world of the Great Feng would not be so dull.

    …

    Deep into the night, the banquet dispersed. A slightly tipsy Xu Qi’an walked to the pond and picked the bright red lotuses.

    This species of lotus was extremely peculiar, with only six petals, each full and crystalline—something he had never seen before.

    “This lotus is called the Red Lotus, also known as the Winter Lotus, unique to Qingzhou,” Ziyang Jushi walked over, hands behind his back, standing to the side:

    “It blooms in October and withers in the spring of the following year. The lotus seeds have a warming nature, and can be used as medicine.”

    A lotus blooming in winter; I’ve never seen such a thing in my previous life. Xu Qi’an smiled and said, “Blooming and bearing fruit in winter, warm in nature, exactly the opposite of the season. Can’t these red lotuses be transplanted to the Central Plains?”

    “They won’t survive,” Ziyang Jushi said, seemingly hinting at something. “The banditry in Yunzhou is also unique to Yunzhou. It wouldn’t last in any other province. Do you know where the problem lies?”

    Isn’t this a historical issue… Xu Qi’an’s mind stirred. He straightened up and made a respectful bow: “Please enlighten me, sir.”

    He didn’t address him with the title of an official, but rather as a teacher, taking on the role of his student.
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    Lazy reader
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    #panic# missing chapter
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