Chapter 164

Jia Cong smiled: "Reporting to Your Highness, today I was interrupted by Official Ruan, and my interest has been disturbed. It would be a bit difficult to write seven or eight at once, but writing one is possible."

Ruan Hongcheng on the side was already so angry that he was about to faint. Who was the one interrupting whom just now?

Prince Ning saw that Jia Cong's words toward Ruan Hongcheng were merciless, which should be because he was very disgusted by his unprovoked provocation. He found it a bit funny in his heart, but he still didn't believe what Jia Cong said.

Although this "Full River Red" was belittled by Jia Cong himself as a crude work, everyone present was a learned scholar, and no one was blind.

The so-called crude work was just Jia Cong's affectation. This "Full River Red: Jin Ling Nostalgia," which was now sung all over Jin Ling, was indeed a rare masterpiece that could be passed down through the ages.

To want to write a poem of equal excellence, talent, opportunity, and timing are all indispensable. How could it be written immediately just because one wanted to? Even if Jia Cong's talent was high, it shouldn't be to this extent.

Prince Ning had a good relationship with Jia Cong both publicly and privately. He was afraid that he was young and arrogant, and was provoked by others to write a poem. If what he wrote was far inferior to this "Full River Red," not to mention losing face.

I am afraid that Ruan Hongcheng's theory of plagiarism would also be believed by others. This would be a fatal blow to a scholar's reputation, and the consequences would be unimaginable.

People like Prince Ning and Yang Hongbin present did not want Jia Cong to make a fool of himself in public because of this matter and end up with a ruined reputation.

In the final analysis, their financial path was cut off, and this account could almost be blamed on Jia Cong. Naturally, they didn't want to see this kid proud.

But after Zou Huaiyi died, the Water Supervision Department was cleaned up by the imperial court. Many of the original financial paths and information had been cut off, causing heavy losses to those officials who relied on foreign goods business to accumulate wealth.

Regardless of whether this youth could write another poem comparable to that "Full River Red," his cultivation in calligraphy alone was enough to prove that his fame was not in vain.

As for the other people who were watching coldly, their thoughts were not so simple.

Linjiang Xian

Jia Cong did not stand on ceremony either. He took a brush, looked out the window at the blue sky, the vast river, and wrote freely:

But there were also many people who were silent, watching coldly. Since ancient times, literati belittling each other has been the norm. Ruan Hongcheng's theory that young people cannot write vigorous and melancholic poetry still entered the hearts of some people.

Prince Ning asked again: "Official Chengshi, poetry is for expressing one's will, and it is written when there is a feeling. How can it be written casually? There is no need to force it."

Literati value reputation the most, but this fame of being sung all over the city was obtained by an outsider youth who was still wet behind the ears, which made people somewhat jealous.

In the 12th year of Emperor Jia Zhao, I ascended the Zhuojiang Tower in Jin Ling, fortunate to receive Prince Ning's grand farewell. Looking north at the heavenly palace, the river waves were like snow, the clouds were vast and soaring, I respectfully remembered the sages, and wished to exhaust my humble thoughts, writing this short introduction to record it.

Prince Ning's words could be considered fair, and many people present echoed them.

Although these people were not directly involved in Zou Huaiyi's raising of ronin, killing, and looting ships.

It was just that Jia Cong's calligraphy had not circulated much in the past few years, and most of the people present had not seen it. Now seeing him wave his brush, a charm and brush intent permeated the paper amidst the splashing ink.

This was the momentum that could only appear when the art of calligraphy reached a very high realm, approaching the Dao. This calligraphy alone had already entered the realm of a master of a generation.

At this moment, some officials who loved to stir up trouble and were not afraid of big things volunteered to take pen, ink, paper, and inkstone. As for whether they wanted to see the masterpiece of the Official Chengshi or see him make a fool of himself, only heaven knew.

If he didn't write a new poem in front of everyone, I am afraid he would be left with a stain and handle in the future."

Jia Cong smiled and replied: "Cong thanks the Prince for his consideration, but what I said just now is not false.

The Jin Ling officialdom almost all accumulated wealth through foreign goods at the port, and most of the channels and information came from the Water Supervision Department.

Now, who in the Jin Ling officialdom doesn't know that the reason the Water Supervision Department is not what it used to be is because Jia Cong led troops to the door and forced the Water Supervision Department battalion commander Zou Huaiyi to death.

Many officials in the hall knew that this Official Chengshi had excellent calligraphy and was famous in the Divine Capital, which was also the reason why he was specially ordered by the Emperor to copy scriptures for the Daci'en Temple.

Jia Cong finished writing the poem's title and wedge, turned his brush, and began to write the first sentence of the main text:

The rolling Yangtze River flows east, the waves wash away all the heroes!

The onlookers were first amazed by Jia Cong's calligraphy. Seeing the first sentence of the poem written, although the words were plain, they already revealed a vast meaning.

And just after the second sentence was written, they felt a strange change. The metaphor of waves and heroes naturally gave birth to a generous spirit that penetrated time, stepped through the ages, and looked at the ups and downs.

Just these first two sentences, the pattern of the spirit revealed, actually faintly surpassed the "Full River Red" that Jia Cong had written.

Just now Jia Cong said that his "Full River Red" was a game, and that he could write seven or eight such poems casually. Everyone felt it was extremely arrogant.

Now, many people had a strange feeling in their hearts, as if this youth was not talking nonsense, but how could this be possible!

The people in the hall saw Jia Cong writing without hesitation, as if he had a draft in his heart, concentrating on the pen and ink, writing like a dragon and snake, and finished the whole poem in a moment.

The eyes of the onlookers were all gathered on the newly written poem.

Those who finished reading first were full of shock and admiration, their eyes had a distant and generous look, shaking their heads and chanting, as if they were immersed in the artistic conception of the poem and could not extricate themselves.

And those behind who hadn't had time to see it, seeing the commotion and discussion of the people in front, the scene was a bit scary, and they wanted to squeeze up to see it.

Prince Ning saw Jia Cong finish it in one go, and knew that he was not in a hurry, he must have had some brewing before.

He knew that Jia Cong's talent was not ordinary. Although his words were arrogant just now, he had a plan in his heart. How could he suffer a loss at the hands of a sour and mediocre official like Ruan Hongcheng? He also breathed a sigh of relief.

He picked up the rice paper with wet ink, unfolded it with both hands, and read:

The rolling Yangtze River flows east, the waves wash away all the heroes.

Right and wrong, success and failure, turn into nothingness.

The green mountains remain, how many times has the sunset been red.

White-haired fishermen and woodcutters on the river island, used to watching the autumn moon and spring breeze.

A pot of turbid wine, happy to meet.

How many things in ancient and modern times are all paid for in laughter.

After Prince Ning finished reading this "Linjiang Xian," everyone in the hall was silent, as if they were all shocked by the generous and desolate meaning in the poem, circling and immersed in it, unable to calm down.

Ascending the tower to face the river, remembering the sages, proving the ancient and modern, the atmosphere is magnificent, the artistic conception of the poem is integrated, and it is so tightly knit.

He smiled: "This 'Linjiang Xian' is generous and tragic, heroic and uninhibited, the feeling of rise and fall, the sigh of ups and downs, the spirit contains the mountains and rivers. In my humble opinion, it is even a step higher than that 'Full River Red.'

I don't know if anyone still thinks that Official Chengshi is young and shallow, unable to write a vigorous and melancholic tone."

Everyone present was somewhat fortunate that no one had echoed Ruan Hongcheng's words just now, otherwise they would have lost face now.

Although Ruan Hongcheng's words just now sounded reasonable, they could only be useful for ordinary people. When encountering a monster like Jia Cong, he could only expose his shortcomings and bring humiliation upon himself.

At this time, everyone looked at Ruan Hongcheng with interest, but saw that he was full of embarrassment, unable to sit or stand, wishing to find a crack in the ground to crawl into.

Because his relatives died in this change of the Water Supervision Department, he, a civil official, did not dare to do anything to Jia Cong, but the resentment in his heart was difficult to calm down.

Just now at the banquet, he also wanted to slander Jia Cong in words, but he didn't expect to make things bigger, and instead let Jia Cong give him a ruthless sarcasm in public.

Now this kid actually had such high talent, and wrote a new poem that surpassed the previous one in the blink of an eye, making himself a clown in vain and making wedding clothes for others.

Fortunately, Jia Cong seemed to have forgotten his existence, otherwise, if he took the newly written poem and poisoned him with his tongue again, Ruan Hongcheng would probably be so embarrassed that he would hit the wall and commit suicide.

At this time, no one noticed that the Experience Officer Cui, who had been concentrating on drinking, raised his head and looked at Jia Cong in the crowd, a cold light flashing in his drunken eyes.

Prince Ning smiled again: "Official Chengshi has these two wonderful poems. Even if you don't write any more poems in this life, you can still occupy a place in the Great Zhou poetry world."

"Everyone, today at the Zhuojiang Tower banquet, Official Chengshi wrote this 'Linjiang Xian' in high spirits. Such a magnificent chapter, such an interesting story, must spread throughout the world and leave a mark in history. I am very fortunate, and you are all fortunate."

(End of chapter)