Chapter 1248: The Twelve Rules for Raising a Loyal Dog

The third floor was indeed lively.

Almost all the talented scholars of Wanling City who could claim a name had gathered; upon seeing Jin Chen enter, they all rose to salute.

It wasn't that they respected Jin Chen much, but rather his status.

All scholars know that if the imperial family hadn't produced a Han Prince who loved studying academics from childhood, they would likely value martial arts over literature just like other countries.

Now, in the court, civil and military officials are equal, and even commoners can change their fate through the imperial examinations—all thanks to the Han Prince.

"No need for formalities."

Jin Chen brought Yajiu to the upper seat; once seated, he had no proper posture, propping his head with the back of his hand as he leaned sideways on the grand tutor's chair cushion, and he pulled the Yajiu standing behind him to sit beside him, insisting on holding hands to be satisfied.

Anyway, no one dared to say anything.

The Little Overlord of Yangzhou truly lives up to his name!

"It's rare that we've all gathered today; if we don't do something interesting, we'd be wasting this fine wine and scenery."

Zhou Zhìhóng had spent last night recalling many fine poems, his heart and mind full of hopes that today's event would boost his reputation again—he wouldn't be like Zhou Zhīhóng, who only knew how to endure; what good is constantly hiding one's talent?

"Why not take the moon as today's theme? If someone's improvised poem leaves others unable to follow, that person will be today's winner."

"Good! This plan is excellent!" The few young masters who had already been won over by Zhou Zhìhóng immediately chimed in, and the others soon agreed.

"I'll go first!" A young man in plain clothes rose, hands behind his back, and began to walk while composing poetry.

"Clouds and mist slant against the moon's railing, the candlelight on the plain screen drips half‑gone…… Longing trapped with no words to speak, don't say the curtain falls and you wish to speak in the cold."

Within just a few steps, the regret of a lonely night spent unable to confess one's feelings to the beloved leapt forth.

Jin Chen glanced at that person—he was one of the disciples of the manor's tutor, essentially a guest of the manor.

He must have seen through Zhou Zhìhóng's trick and was doing it to save face for him.

"Good!" someone clapped, "No wonder he's taught by the Han Prince's manor! Xuan, your literary talent is splendid!"

Afterward, several more scholars improvised poems.

Yajiu didn't understand poetry; his attention was wholly on his master's hand.

He straightened his waist, trying to let the soft flesh on his sides escape his master's fingers.

Jin Chen pinched his earlobe like a punishment, "Don't move."

Yajiu softened his voice slightly, making sure only his master could hear.

"Itchy…"

It wasn't that he was truly afraid of the tickle; an assassin isn't allowed to have a weak spot.

But when those warm fingers rested on his waist and pinched, even through his clothes Yajiu felt an unbearable tingling, a sensation rising from the depths of his soul.

In the past, such pleas had worked, but today they only made his master intensify the torment.

"You're still acting coquettish outside—there's nothing I can do with you." Jin Chen held him tighter, like coaxing a child, "Don't move around, or you'll fall."

Yajiu: "……"

Where exactly was he being coquettish?

He could only relax his body to let his master hold him more comfortably, daring not to move.

Seeing that the time was about right, the bribed young masters immediately shouted, "The host hosting today also needs to recite a poem!"

"Exactly, who doesn't know that Young Master Zhou was praised by His Majesty? Young Master Zhou, don't hide your talent!"

Clang.

Xu Huaiyu's teacup slipped from his hand and fell to the floor, instantly drawing everyone's gaze.

"Sorry, please continue." Xu Huaiyu gave a proper apologetic smile.

The young attendant picked up the cup, and while pouring tea for Xu Huaiyu, softly comforted him, "Young master, calm down."

Xu Huaiyu lowered his gaze, his eyes gradually turning cold; he simply couldn't accept that Elder Brother Zhihong's reputation was being trampled and exploited by this monster—clearly His Majesty had praised the monster, not the monster, so how could he feel justified using it?

Zhou Zhìhóng paid no heed to this interruption, proudly beginning to recite a poem with his hands behind his back.

"A pot of wine among the flowers, drinking alone without a kindred spirit, raising my cup to invite the bright moon, facing my shadow we become three…"

After the poem finished, the hall remained stunned for a long time.

Jin Chen: "……"

I'm going to file a complaint against Li Bai.

"Eh… this monster actually has something; this poem is really well written!" Liu Chengze exclaimed in surprise, "I didn't expect him to have genuine talent as well."

He had just finished praising when he was struck on the head by a jade fan.

Jin Chen pushed his head away, "Stupid."

Amidst the chorus of praise, Jin Chen's sudden interruption stood out starkly.

He tapped the tea table with his finger, "You say this poem was your impromptu composition."

"Yes, yes, I improvised it. Heir Apparent, Your Highness, what advice do you have?"

Zhou Zhìhóng had no need to worry about being exposed by these ignorant ancients; he immediately admitted it without hesitation.

Jin Chen: "What is the central idea expressed in this poem, what emotion are you conveying, and who are the three referred to by 'facing my shadow we become three'?"

Zhou Zhìhóng: "……"

He stared blankly for a few seconds; just being able to recall the poem was already not bad! Who still remembers what it means?

Seeing Zhou Zhìhóng delay in answering, many began to suspect.

"What's wrong with Young Master Zhou? You composed the poem yourself—don't you even know its meaning?"

Zhou Zhìhóng hesitated for half a day, then felt his dignity utterly lost, deciding that Jin Chen was deliberately making things difficult for him.

"I naturally know what my own poem means; I just wonder why I have to tell it to the Heir Apparent. The way he keeps probing down to the bottom of the pot—surely there's some other motive! For example… to claim it as his own!"

Yajiu drew his blade, his young face instantly covered in a cold frost, "Impudent! Do not slander the Heir Apparent!"

But in an instant, the blade was already at Zhou Zhìhóng's neck.

Jin Chen had no intention of stopping; he sighed and leisurely rose to his feet, saying with interest: "It's a coincidence—when this Heir Apparent once traveled overseas with his father the king, I once heard another poet also compose this poem…… exactly the same."

Zhou Zhihong's face turned deathly pale instantly.

Impossible! Isn't this just a fictional dynasty!

Jin Chen admired his pallor, a wicked smile curling his lips: "That poet's name is Li Taibai."

You must be drenched in sweat, time traveler!