Chapter 49: Spring Literary Gathering·2

In the bright March of spring, Yingchun Gu seemed to become a sea of flowers, with blossoms of vivid colors and fragrant scents bursting into bloom as if displaying their beauty and vigor to all; red peonies, pink peach blossoms, white pear blossoms… countless flowers intertwined, forming a kaleidoscopic picture.

Stepping into Yingchun Gu is like being in a fairyland, intoxicating beyond escape; a breeze stirs the sea of flowers into ripples, petals drift down like snow, cloaking the ground in a brilliant floral carpet, while the air is thick with fragrance, drawing bees and butterflies to dance among the blossoms, adding life and vitality to the scene.

Beside the flowing water, countless literati and ink‑writers gather, sitting on the ground, drinking heartily.

"Spring days are infinitely wonderful, the scenery matches my heart. To drink together here with you all today is truly a great joy of life!" Liu Feng raised his cup and shouted.

"Hahaha, Mr. Liu raises his cup, shall we not finish the wine and toast the spring day!"

"Toast to the spring day!"

A painter nearby was excitedly painting, and many high officials and nobles sat aloft; the surrounding literati, smiling, stepped forward to offer cups, but were stopped by those beside them.

It is clear that only literati of sufficient fame can share a drink with those high officials and nobles.

"Hahaha, talented scholars, it is rare for us to gather here today; why not compose a poem for this spring day, for the honored guests, for the many talented men and beautiful women present?"

"Since Great Scholar Zhang has spoken, we shall humbly offer our clumsy verses!"

The surrounding literati, upon hearing this, instantly brightened, picking up paper and brush to feign deep contemplation, while in fact they had already poured out ink they had prepared.

Such is the grand affair of the literati: chatting and drinking.

With women joining, many well‑born and strikingly beautiful women were surrounded by scholars.

Ling Yan was no exception; she forced a smile to cope with the surrounding literati, yet deep inside she was anxious, glancing around, hoping to spot Yan Buji.

Zhong Shifu, as a guard, was allowed entry but could only stand aside, unable to sit with the literati.

Although he noticed Ling Yan's oddness, it seemed more serious than he had imagined.

He wondered what the young lady was truly worrying about…

"It's written decently."

On the high platform nearby, several great scholars examined the poems presented by the scholars, nodding and responding with difficulty.

If swearing were allowed, they'd want to slap his mother—what he wrote is utter nonsense!

The praised literati's face lit with excitement, trembling all over, as if they had earned the great scholars' approval and could soon soar to great heights.

A drunken Liu Feng staggered over, taking a sip, glancing, his face turning sour as he said, "Old Zhang, are you blind? What is this you wrote? How could such words come from your mouth?"

The great scholars' faces darkened, and the surrounding scholars also wore grim looks.

Is it common to slap someone publicly like this?

The poet who presented the poem, indignant and flushed, asked, "But I don't know what masterpiece Mr. Liu claims to have!"

"Hahaha, I dare not claim a masterpiece; my writing is better than yours! Everyone, listen!"

Liu Feng glug gluged a few sips, smacking his lips, wiping the wine from his mouth, his face flushed, he shouted:

"The gentle orchid breeze, the clever oriole's song, should rejoice at the sudden leaving of the secluded valley. Flying past the north window, delivering bright dawn, the lovely sun shines through emerald curtains. The seal platform exudes fragrance. Upon first waking, leaning sideways on jade hairpin, I suddenly feel my waist thin, and now wear a broader skirt."

When this piece was recited, every literati present was startled; upon close appreciation they discovered its brilliance and could not help but nod in approval.

The great scholars' eyes also brightened, seeing Liu Feng resume drinking, and asked, "What about the lower verses?"

"Not thought it out yet, let's leave it at that."

Liu Feng turned, swayed off the stage, and returned to his seat to drink with the others, laughing and chatting, carefree and unrestrained.

The great scholars shook their heads helplessly and burst into laughter.

"Liu Feng's talent truly is astonishing."

"No wonder he's Zuihua Jushi."

A few elder gentlemen nearby also laughed, saying, "We are honored to hear Mr. Liu's new work; even though it's only the upper verses, it may be the best among his many pieces."

"Best? I doubt it! Hahaha!"

Another great scholar beside him suddenly slapped the table, laughing with delight.

"Hm?"

Everyone present turned their heads, looking at him in puzzlement.

Could anyone have written better than Liu Feng?!

Liu Feng seemed unfazed, continuing to drink.

Then the great scholar called out:

"Between Jingkou and Guazhou lies a single waterway; Zhongshan is separated only by a few layers of mountains."

When the first two lines were spoken, many literati wore puzzled expressions.

"Is this Jingkou the capital? Where is Guazhou? Isn't Zhongshan the lofty mountain of the heavens and earth?"

"Perhaps it was thought up casually; let's see the last two lines."

Many literati were still a bit odd, yet their cultivated taste allowed them to see that these two lines indeed possessed some flavor.

But with the following two lines, everyone present, including the drinking Liu Feng, turned sharply, eyes wide!

"The spring wind again greens the southern riverbank; when will the bright moon illuminate my return?"

Even Ling Yan, upon hearing it, could not help but exclaim, "What a splendid 'green riverbank'; truly marvelous!"

"Great, great, great!"

"Just by that single character 'green,' this becomes a timeless classic! I wonder which great talent authored it—may we approach to meet them?" Several great scholars rose, scanning the surroundings.

Liu Feng, standing nearby, rose, and those around him were startled.

"It couldn't be you, could it?"

Liu Feng ascended the platform, bowed to the crowd and said, "I wonder which talented scholar could compose such a masterpiece, far surpassing my own rambling verses; may I get to know them?"

The scholars finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Just now Liu Feng had composed half a wondrously exquisite ci, yet could also produce such a powerful poem; how could these scholars survive?

Hasn't his momentum been completely stolen?

Although I'm certainly not the type to write such verses, as long as it isn't Liu Feng, it's easy to accept.

The scholars present also cared about saving face, and indeed no one dared to claim it.

A plainly dressed scholar rose from the corner, stepped forward under the astonished gazes of the crowd, and bowed his hand to several great Confucians and Liu Feng, saying:

"I am Zhang Xungui, I have met all of you, I have met Brother Liu."

Zhang Xungui's mouth corner lifted slightly, revealing a faint smile. On his somewhat delicate and youthful face were a pair of eyes bright as stars, as if untouched by any worldly dust. Though his clothing was plain and unadorned, from his upright posture and lofty bearing one could still sense the unyielding pride and resilience deep within his heart.

Zhang Xungui!

So this person is the author of the poem?!

Truly remarkable!

To be so young yet able to surpass Liu Feng's talent, I suppose he will be extraordinary in the future!

The scholars present felt a stir in their hearts, and each began to think of getting to know him.