Chapter 989

Huang Quan drained his wine in one gulp and laughed heartily: "It was my oversight—I forgot outsiders wouldn't know this."

Huang Quan sighed: "Too bad Feng family's demands are too high; otherwise, plenty of men in Chaozhou would be eager to become a son-in-law."

Dai Fu nervously tugged at Huang Quan's sleeve.

Huang Quan brushed off Dai Fu's hand: "Why tug me? I didn't say anything wrong—if Feng family didn't demand both literary and martial talent, men from Chaozhou alone would fight over it. How poor could a man who's both literary and martial be? Who with ambition would become a son-in-law?"

Dai Fu cast a shy, apologetic glance at Xue Shao and whispered to Huang Quan: "Cousin, the poetry contest has begun."

The poetry contest had indeed begun—the owner of Piaoxiang Tower carried up a box.

He would draw a theme from it; whatever he pulled, everyone would compose a poem on that theme, and the best would win, called the Poetry Champion.

The Poetry Champion wins sixty-six taels of silver and a year's worth of solo meals at Piaoxiang Tower—breakfast, lunch, and dinner included—quite a generous prize.

While listening to gossip, Pan Yun lifted her head for a glance, about to lower it again when her peripheral vision caught the owner's hand making a peculiar motion as he reached into the box—she arched an eyebrow, her half-lowered eyes snapping back up, sparkling as she fixed them on the man onstage.

The owner of Piaoxiang Tower remained oblivious, pulling out a slip of paper and unfolding it loudly: "The theme is out—Sea! This time, our poetry must center on the sea."

"The sea? If we're talking about sea-themed verse, Cao Cao's is still the best."

"I think Zhang Jiuling's 'The moon rises over the sea, shared by all at the ends of the earth' is the greatest of all time."

"Su Shi's 'Ascending Dengzhou's Sea Mirage' is more profound—it observes the sea to perceive heaven's laws, to investigate things and attain knowledge."

After listening to the crowd's chatter for a while, Pan Yun turned to Xue Shao: "Can you win?"

Xue Shao was modest: "I'll give it a try. Even if I don't win, my calligraphy is good—I can hang it up, and someone might come to buy it."

Huang Quan was astonished: "Xue Brother, you're this poor you have to sell your calligraphy to survive?"

Xue Shao gave a slight nod: "Xue Mou is indeed short on funds right now."

Huang Quan instantly looked understanding—no wonder he wanted to become a son-in-law—but…

He glanced at the dishes and wine on the table, his heart skipped—a man short on funds, yet this wine and food…

Xue Shao knew his worry the moment he lowered his eyes and immediately lifted the wine jug: "Xue Mou thanks you, Huang Brother, for guiding me—if not for you, I'd have wandered far off course. This cup is for you."

Huang Quan relaxed, laughing heartily: "No need to thank me—Xue Brother, rest assured, tomorrow I'll take you to register at the Feng family's villa."

Pan Yun's curious gaze swept the tavern, watching the crowd nodding, muttering, and pinching their fingers in thought—soon she singled out three men who, though also nodding and frowning, carried an air of quiet confidence.

She immediately poked Xue Shao, urging: "Hurry, hurry—the incense stick has started, some are already going up to write—go write yours now!"

Pan Yun grinned mischievously: "If you win the champion, that'll be fun."

Xue Shao turned to look at her: "Fun?"

Pan Yun nodded solemnly and weightily: "Fun. Very fun."

She pushed him to his feet, urging: "Go, go—if you win, you'll see why. If you don't, I'll tell you later."

Xue Shao rose and invited Huang Quan and Dai Fu to join him.

Huang Quan waved his hand: "I'm no good at poetry, and with so many talented scholars and beauties here, I wouldn't dare show off—Xue Brother, go ahead."

Indeed, the poetry contest allowed not just men but women to enter.

Xue Shao rose and walked toward the long table set before the stage.

Three long tables stood before the stage, each with nine sets of brushes and ink—anyone who composed a verse could step forward and write immediately.

After writing, they signed their name and handed it to a nearby page; when the incense stick burned out, the pages would read each poem aloud in order, and finally, the judges upstairs and the guests in the hall would jointly select the champion.

This system produced poems widely accepted as fair—according to Huang Quan, so far, even when critics disagreed on the quality of the winning verses, everyone agreed on the champion's ability and the contest's fairness.

Pan Yun agreed the winning poems were good, but whether they truly reflected the champion's ability was another matter.

After all, what if the champion had known the theme in advance and had prepared several poems ahead of time?

Others had only one incense stick's time—but he might have had a day, three days, even longer to prepare.

Pan Yun watched the owner of Piaoxiang Tower and the judges upstairs with keen interest.

Xue Shao walked slowly; by the time he reached the table, he already had his poem ready—he picked up his brush and wrote at once.

He had seen the sea, sailed on it, even fought naval battles—he knew the sea no less than these native Chaozhou people.

His brush danced like a dragon, and he finished the poem quickly; after a moment's thought, he signed it "Xue Wen."

His given name was Wen Shao, and though he rarely used it, those well-connected in official circles might recognize it—so he used only "Wen," hiding "Shao."

Xue Shao set down his brush, lifted the poem, and blew on it to dry, then handed it to the page standing by.

The page glanced at it and his eyes widened in surprise.

As a page, he was naturally literate, and having worked here long, though he couldn't compose poetry, he could still appreciate it.

This poem might not be the best—but this handwriting? Undoubtedly the finest in the hall.

Xue Shao turned to return to his seat; just as he reached the table, the owner of Piaoxiang Tower struck a gong with a loud clang, announcing the incense stick had burned out.

Two pages immediately unfurled the collected poems and began reading them one by one.

After each poem, they paused briefly, letting the crowd reflect and the judges upstairs score.

Soon, Ma Chengjun and He Yang emerged as the top two, their scores closest.

The guests in the main hall began whispering, debating which poem was better.

Just as they remained deadlocked, a page lifted a final slip and announced: "This is the last poem—'Waves Wash Sand' by Lord Xue Wen of Hedong."

The page read it aloud loudly—the hall fell silent; the judges upstairs rose and leaned forward, asking: "Who is Xue Wen?"

Everyone upstairs leaned down, scanning the crowd.

Huang Quan had long been gaping at Xue Shao; as soon as the judges spoke, he leapt up, waving his hand loudly: "This—this!"

He grabbed Xue Shao's hand and shoved him forward, shouting: "This is Lord Xue Wen!"

Lin's young lady, seeing it was Xue Shao, covered her face with her fan, smiling with crinkled eyes: "Little sister, our taste is truly excellent—this gentleman is not only handsome but talented."

Lin's young lady blushed.

Lin's young lady sighed: "Too bad he's accompanied by a young lady—otherwise, I'd ask Father to set up a literary contest for you. Feng family holds martial contests for brides—we'd hold a literary one."

Lin's young lady: "... Big sister, if you keep making wild suggestions, I'll tell Brother you came to Piaoxiang Tower to ogle handsome men—see how you dare go out next time." Lin's young lady tapped her head with her fan: "Ungrateful! Why do I go out so diligently? Isn't it just to take you out for a stroll?"

Miss Lin snorted, her gaze sweeping over Pan Yun, who stood beside Xue Shao with a smiling face, then fell silent.

Pan Yun was overjoyed, standing beside Xue Shao and urging him repeatedly to take the bet: "I say, since you're so talented, will the judges give you first place? I bet they won't!"

Xue Shao's eyes swept the second floor, where five judges sat; one leaned forward, watching him with keen interest, while the other four remained perfectly still.

His vision was sharp—he could clearly see the solemn expressions on their faces and the displeasure in their eyes.

The owner of Piaoxiang Pavilion, who had been smiling warmly on stage, now wore a smile that looked utterly false, his gaze constantly flickering to one side.

Xue Shao followed his gaze and saw Ma Chengjun and He Yang standing there, locked in a tie before Xue Shao's poem had been recited.

Xue Shao withdrew his gaze, scanned the main hall and second floor once more, then said calmly: "I don't bet on the judges' result—I bet on the final outcome. I bet I will definitely win first place."

Pan Yun also scanned the upper and lower floors, noticing that today's crowd was unusually large, and everyone seemed remarkably wealthy—not paid spectators hired by Piaoxiang Pavilion.

If they weren't paid, then the voting was fair.

"Fine," Pan Yun conceded, "I bet you'll win first place in the end."

Since no one bet against him, there was no point in opening the bet at all.

Huang Quan, standing nearby, listened half-understandingly, dumbfounded.

Xue Shao stepped forward, bowed respectfully to the crowd on the second floor and in the main hall, and introduced himself with a smile.

Seeing that Xue Shao was not only talented, young, and handsome, everyone's eyes brightened further.

Handsome men are admired not only by women, but by men too.

In official circles, good looks grant extra advantages—those who favor beauty aren't just women.

So as soon as Xue Shao appeared, goodwill toward him surged rapidly among those upstairs and downstairs—even the four judges on the second floor couldn't help softening their expressions, though they remained distinctly displeased.

No one likes an outcome that was all but certain to end in surprise.

The owner of Piaoxiang Pavilion looked at Xue Shao with a half-smile and asked: "From your accent, Young Master Xue, you seem to have just arrived in Chaozhou?"

Xue Shao smiled and replied: "Three years ago, I passed through Chaozhou while studying abroad. I loved the southern landscapes and culture so much that I've come south again to continue my studies."

This answer earned him another wave of favor—the judge on the second floor who liked him best had already leaned halfway out of his seat, eager to speak with him.

Before he could speak, the owner of Piaoxiang Pavilion asked: "Young Master Xue, do you hold any official degree?"

Xue Shao replied: "I am a Provincial Graduate of the Zhengtong Eighth Year."

A collective "Wow!" rose from the entire tavern, every eye fixed intently on Xue Shao.

Such a young Provincial Graduate~~

On the second floor, Lady Lin sat up straight, seized Miss Lin's hand, and said solemnly: "Little sister, if you keep swinging the hoe, there's no wall in this world you can't dig through. I see that girl is dressed as a lady of the inner chambers—they're clearly not married yet. As long as they're not married, you still have a chance."

Miss Lin yanked her hand back sharply, flustered and annoyed: "Big sister, what are you talking about? Do you think I'm that low-class?"

"It's not about being low-class or not—it's about the future of our family! Look at how young he is—a Provincial Graduate! Think of your brother—he's already old, still just a licentiate, has taken the autumn examination three times, didn't pass this year's special imperial exam, and no one knows when he'll get another chance. Such a young Provincial Graduate won't come again!"

Miss Lin ignored her, frowning down at the hall below.

The owner of Piaoxiang Pavilion continued questioning Xue Shao, even proposing that the judges on the second floor test his scholarship.

Miss Lin frowned slightly and murmured: "Big sister, don't you think Sun Hanwen seems strange?"

"What's strange about him?"

Miss Lin's gaze swept back and forth, her brow furrowed: "I don't know—it's just odd. He doesn't seem to want to give first place to this Xue Shao."

Lady Lin waved her round fan dismissively: "Maybe he's upset that the new champion won't keep bringing friends to dine at Piaoxiang Pavilion."

Piaoxiang Pavilion only offers a single-dish meal to the champion—but who would come to a tavern alone to eat?

They'd surely invite friends. Beyond the fixed meal in the single-dish set, everything else costs money—so Piaoxiang Pavilion profits.

Lady Lin, who manages the family's farmland and shops, has learned many tricks from Piaoxiang Pavilion.

The two sisters whispered a few more words, then the judges announced their scores: one gave a perfect score, the other four gave varying low scores.

A murmur of shock spread through the hall and second floor—everyone was confused. Xue Shao's poem was clearly the best of the night—why give such low scores?

The four judges began nitpicking the poem.

Poetry has no absolute first place; to find fault, even Li Bai would be picked apart—one said Xue Shao's rhyme was vulgar, another claimed the character "ru" was poorly chosen and should be changed to "gui…"

Each had their own excuse.

▲￠O

Overall, Xue Shao's judge score ranked only average—not even above Ma Chengjun and He Yang, but down to twelfth place.

Xue Shao didn't mind; he smiled and thanked the five judges for their guidance.

His sincerity and openness made him appear graceful, yet it made the four judges and the ever-questioning owner of Piaoxiang Pavilion seem petty.

So in the final guest voting round, the vast majority cast their votes for Xue Shao.

The "votes" were the flowers placed in bamboo tubes on each table after guests sat down.

For every person seated at a table, the waiter placed that many flowers into the bamboo tube.

The flowers weren't free—one cash per flower. When guests left, if no flowers remained on the table, it meant they'd used them and needed to pay;

if flowers remained, it meant none of tonight's poems pleased them, so they didn't need to pay.

In the past, after the judges announced their results, most guests agreed, so some wouldn't bother voting with flowers.

But tonight, the crowd's opinion clearly differed from the judges' final verdict.

Here, the judges held no absolute authority—Lady Lin picked up a flower from the bamboo tube and placed it on the waiter's tray: "Vote for Young Master Xue."

The other ladies and young ladies at her table immediately picked up flowers and voted for Xue Shao too.

Lady Lin had set the example; everyone followed suit.

Sun Hanwen, owner of Piaoxiang Pavilion: …

Tonight's flower revenue was likely the highest of the year—but he wasn't happy at all.

One flower cost one cash—even if every single flower was used, it wouldn't bring in much. On the contrary, the money from Ma Chengjun and the others…

Tonight, he lost money and damaged his reputation—who the hell was this man?