Chapter 28: Singing Plum Blossoms Startles Everyone

Jia Cong's words made everyone present feel a bit puzzled. Could it be that he was squeezed too hard by Wu Wu Jinrong and was panicked and talking nonsense?

In the past, there was Cao Zijian who made a poem in seven steps. Jinrong had just set the topic, and he hadn't even taken half a step, and he already had one?

Ignoring what everyone thought, Jia Cong had already raised his brush and started writing.

The people in the seat were very disgusted by Qiu Qiu Xuanfu's despicable provocation just now, and they were all moved by Jia Cong's self-narration of not receiving his mother's teachings and his regret for not being able to fulfill his filial piety.

If his biological mother was noble, it was common for children to be filial and respectful, but for Jia Cong to be so calm and accept it, with his longing for his mother overflowing, that was the true pure filial piety and great righteousness.

The country had been established for seventy years and advocated governing the world with filial piety. Such a teenager should be a model of filial piety and etiquette.

That Wu Wu Jinrong was not as despicable as Qiu Qiu Xuanfu, and his etiquette was thoughtful, but he was also making things difficult for this teenager. Moreover, he had colluded with Zhou Zhou Junxing, and his reputation in the scholarly forest was already stained, so everyone disliked him even more.

At this moment, seeing Jia Cong writing a poem, they all felt a sense of shared hatred, and several people left their seats and gathered around Jia Cong's desk to see what he was going to write.

Liu Bi also arrived by Jia Cong's side, even helping him flatten the rice paper; although he had never seen Jia Cong write poetry, seeing him so confident, he must have already had a plan in mind.

Just now, Jia Cong's response to Qiu Qiu Xuanfu's questioning had been outstanding, which had truly opened Liu Bi's eyes.

Under the tune name, he wrote: "In the tenth year of Emperor Jia Zhao, at the Shuyun Villa in the Love Shenjing, seeing the ice frozen on the cliffs, isolated and desolate in the human world, with wild plum blossoms splitting the rocks to grow upon them, their color vibrant and their spirit stern; composed with a feeling in my heart."

When the crowd saw Jia Cong's bearing in front of the archway at the foot of the mountain, they were already amazed; just now in the hall, they saw him face the provocations and insults of others, dissolving them into nothingness with just a few words.

If it were him today, he wouldn't be able to do something so brilliant; he would likely have ended up in a big fight with that Qiu Qiu Xuanfu, losing all decorum.

When he first met Jia Cong at Chunhua Tower, he knew his calligraphy was outstanding, but he only thought it was due to talent, and besides, he was really too young, so he didn't pay too much attention to it in his heart.

The crowd recited silently; these first two lines were ordinary, but they were appropriate for describing today's scenery, only the wording was a bit plain.

Now, seeing this ancient, clumsy, and elegant calligraphy, unique in its grace, he realized that this youth being able to sit in the position of recording official was truly well-deserved.

Jia Cong saw him wave his brush and write the tune name: "Bu Suan Zi, Ode to the Plum Blossom."

People in the world say that turning decay into magic is nothing more than this; the two novel and brilliant lines that followed immediately made the plain opening lines appear with charm.

When these two lines came out, the onlookers couldn't help but gasp; these people were all old scholars and famous masters, their learning and vision were not ordinary, so how could they not see the brilliance of these two lines?

What amazed the crowd was the handwriting; it was truly outstanding. It was a pity that he could practice it at such a young age.

It could be seen that his encounters and actions today made them admire this little friend from the bottom of their hearts.

Liu Bi, who was usually like this, couldn't help but shout, "Wonderful! The change is novel, and the interest is suddenly born. Brother Cong, I can't believe you could write this."

Plum blossoms grow in bitter cold, their nature is noble, they don't flow with romantic spring flowers to compete for beauty, but bloom silently in the biting spring cold when the hundred flowers have not yet flourished. This youth is using plum blossoms to describe his own heart.

Jia Cong continued to write: "Already a hundred feet of ice on the cliff, yet the flower branches are still beautiful..."

The previous two lines were as plain as water, but these two lines were like wind and clouds rising from flat ground; the cliffs were high and isolated, the ice and snow were crystal clear, and the cold plum blossoms stood beautifully. In just a few words, a dashing and strange grace had already leaped onto the paper.

Finally, the first two lines: "Wind and rain send spring away, flying snow welcomes spring's arrival."

Jia Cong seemed to hear nothing around him at this moment, continuing to lift his brush and write: "Beautiful but not competing for spring, only reporting the arrival of spring..."

Jia Cong was invited by Prince Prince Jia Shun and didn't know the others; although the crowd saw him sitting in the recording official's position, because they were far away, they didn't see the words he wrote.

As if a bit of magic color had been integrated into the bland black and white ink, the whole painting immediately became fresh and vivid.

The crowd around them clapped and cheered again; the first two lines were plain and direct, the next two lines were strange and changing, and the interest was full. These few lines were beyond the interest, directly expressing his heart and ambition.

But thinking about this youth's age, his years of reading were limited; to have flowery diction like a scholar who had read old books, it wouldn't be like him.

Now seeing him write a few lines, it seemed like he was picking them up at will, but the atmosphere and style were gradually deepening from shallow to deep, which could not be done by someone who was not deeply proficient in poetry.

To be so young and have such a seasoned foundation in poetry—how on earth did he get it? It was simply unbelievable.

Everyone was amazed in their hearts; wasn't this self-respecting, unhurried, and talented youth comparable to the cold plum blossoms, a cut above the rest?

Jia Cong lifted his brush to add ink and wrote the last line: "When the mountain flowers are in full bloom, he will smile among them!"

When this last line was written, the low discussion of the crowd just now was like boiling water, suddenly erupting.

An old scholar with white hair and beard next to him, excited, suddenly felt a youthful madness, clapped his hands and shouted, "Wonderful! The youth has good methods, truly a good poem!"

Although this poem had only a few lines, it was layered, and the atmosphere rose step by step, reaching the last line: "When the mountain flowers are in full bloom, he will smile among them!"

It ignited the accumulated atmosphere and emotion of the whole poem, making people feel like they were reaching the top of the mountain, watching the changes of the mountains and rivers, watching the hundred flowers bloom and fade, seeing through honor and disgrace, and feeling the heroism of being undefeated.

Liu Bi looked at Jia Cong, his expression somewhat dazed; he prided himself on his talent and had written poems he considered proud, but now he knew what poetry was. This little brother of his was incredible.

Not only was his calligraphy cultivation astonishing, but he could also write such exquisite poems. It was fine that Heaven favored him with talent, but wasn't this a bit too biased?

Liu Liu Yanxiu, Prince Prince Jia Shun, Zhang Zhang Yuzhen, and others in the stone pavilion saw that a few people had gathered around Jia Cong's desk to watch him write new poems, and soon someone made a sound of admiration.

Following that, more and more people left their seats and gathered at that desk; finally, they heard someone shouting loudly, and the chanting and discussion of the crowd rolled in like a tide.

These few people were puzzled in their hearts; they knew Jia Cong's calligraphy was outstanding, so it was not strange that he was praised by the crowd for his calligraphy.

Could it be that he had written some good poetry to cause such a big commotion?

They didn't believe it much in their hearts; after all, he was a half-grown child, and it was already rare to have one outstanding skill.

Just now, Wu Wu Jinrong had just finished the topic, and Jia Cong had written without thinking. People like Liu Liu Yanxiu, who were cultured and cautious, felt that the youth was a bit reckless.

Could he really write something good just like that? Although they were suspicious in their hearts, those gathered around the desk were all elites of the scholarly world in the Love Shenjing, and their vision and pattern were not low.

Prince Prince Jia Shun called Wang Dong beside him and asked him to go over and see what was going on; if Jia Cong had already written a poem, he should pass it up quickly, as he was also looking forward to it in his heart.

Before long, Wang Dong returned with a smile, holding a piece of rice paper dripping with ink, and carefully spread it out on the table.

The gazes of the three people in the stone pavilion gathered on the poem manuscript.

The more they read, the more their emotions surged; they finally understood why there was such a big commotion just now.

Prince Prince Jia Shun patted the table and laughed, "How old is this Jia Cong? It's fine that his calligraphy is outstanding, but he can actually write such wonderful poems. Is it that all the good things in the world have been taken by him?"

Liu Liu Yanxiu, as a master of literature of his generation, was deeply immersed in poetry, and his response to poetry was richer than ordinary people; he was also conquered by the artistic conception of this poem.

He picked up the poem manuscript on the table, muttering to himself, his eyes shining, and the white beard under his chin trembling imperceptibly; one could imagine how agitated his heart was at this moment.

"Good! What a good 'Ode to the Plum Blossom'! The wording of this poem is extremely clean, but the description is vivid, and the interest is full. In just a few lines, the rhyme is layered. There is a stern spirit and an unyielding will."

For such a young age to have such talent and heart, it is not an exaggeration to call him a genius.

I have read countless 'Odes to the Plum Blossom' in my life; perhaps some are better in rhythm and flow, or in flowery language."

"But no other poem can surpass the spirit of indignation that permeates this one. This 'Ode to the Plum Blossom' will surely be passed down for a hundred generations!"

Zhang Zhang Yuzhen on the side looked at the poem manuscript in Liu Liu Yanxiu's hand; he was known as a great scholar of the Daoist school, so naturally, he knew that Liu Liu Yanxiu's evaluation of this poem was fair.

These words of Liu Liu Yanxiu were heard not only by Prince Prince Jia Shun and Master Zhang Zhang Tianshi in the stone pavilion but also by many scholars participating in the literary gathering outside the stone pavilion.

If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes and heard it with their own ears, it would be hard to believe that Liu Liu Yanxiu would give such high praise to a child of childhood age.

This youth's affairs today, this poem today, and Liu Liu Yanxiu's words just now—his fame in the Love Shenjing is just around the corner!

The gazes of the crowd looking over were also much more complicated; there was envy, admiration, and quite a bit of burning jealousy.

Wang Dong stepped forward and said to Prince Prince Jia Shun, "This old servant congratulates the Prince. With such an affair and such a good poem from Jia Cong today, it will surely be passed down in the Love Shenjing tomorrow."

"The Nanxi Literary Gathering held by the Prince will likely be recorded in history books; what a great honor this is."

Prince Prince Jia Shun laughed and pointed at Wang Dong, saying, "You old fellow really know how to flatter."

(End of chapter)