"Homesickness... homesickness..." Fang Ming dipped his brush on the Xuan paper, frowning in deep thought. To write a standout classical poem among so many ancient masters was no easy feat.
He wasn't sure of their poetic standards, so he could only try his best to craft a poem he considered good.
"Liu Hua."
Fang Ming first wrote down the main theme of his poem on the Xuan paper, then began to write.
"The well reflects the moon, creating a mist of silk."
Fang Ming's mind began to construct a scene of longing for home and country. Since he wanted to express homesickness, the element of the moon couldn't be absent, and he would employ some metaphors.
Xiao Nan stared intently at Fang Ming's poem, silently reciting it. Although she could only read simple characters, she could discern the melancholy of homesickness from this line.
"A cup of wine can hardly contain the vastness of the world."
Under the bright moonlight, one sat alone in the room, drinking and looking at the wine's reflection, which evoked thoughts of returning home.
"Sigh~" Fang Ming suddenly stopped writing and sighed.
Xiao Nan, puzzled, quickly asked, "What's wrong, young master?"
"Nothing, I just miss my parents a little," Fang Ming replied with a wry smile, shaking his head. He hadn't seen his parents for a very, very long time, so long that he had almost forgotten what they looked like.
"Then, after this competition, you can go back, can't you? Go back and see your parents," Xiao Nan comforted him. She didn't know Fang Ming's true identity or his purpose for being here.
"You're right. Thank you for comforting me," Fang Ming took a deep breath, suppressing the melancholy rising in his heart, and picked up his brush to continue writing the rest.
"Wind comes and goes, all are visitors from home;
Silver hair tied up, dreams shatter like fallen flowers."
This couplet was written in one go, without any hesitation, astonishing Xiao Nan. She knew Fang Ming was a prodigy, but she never imagined his poetic talent was so high!
"Here, see what you think?" Fang Ming reviewed it and was very satisfied, so he handed it to Xiao Nan. "Tell me if there's anything you think could be improved. Don't hesitate."
Xiao Nan took the Xuan paper and read it several times. Her skill level was average, so she couldn't find any faults. Regardless, she found the poem inexplicably beautiful and it stirred her own thoughts of home.
She was constantly on the move these days, navigating between Fang Ming and the Liu family. Wasn't she like the line in the poem, "Wind comes and goes, all are visitors from home"? No matter how freely she came and went, she was still an outsider.
"Sigh~" This time, it was Xiao Nan who sighed.
Fang Ming looked confused. "What's wrong? Is there something not good about it?"
"No, no," Xiao Nan waved her hands hastily, wiping away imaginary tears. "I just feel that what young master writes is too good. Reading it makes me think of my own home."
Fang Ming fell silent for a moment. He knew a little about Xiao Nan's background and could only offer a few simple words of comfort.
Afterwards, Fang Ming called over a runner from the competition venue.
"I've finished. Can I submit it early?"
"Finished?" the runner exclaimed in surprise. In past competitions, those who submitted their work in just a few minutes were either gods or utterly incompetent. He wondered which category Fang Ming belonged to.
"Yes."
Fang Ming handed the Xuan paper to the runner, who took it and gasped. A good poem! Having participated in the Yunxian Poetry Gathering several times with the Liu family, he had some discernment.
Fang Ming heard this and a satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"Please wait, young master. The results for your group will only be announced after all ten participants have finished. If you need anything, you can call me anytime, but please do not leave your seat," the runner said politely.
"Okay, no problem," Fang Ming nodded. He understood the basic rules, but he seemed to have finished too quickly. He glanced at the others who were still deep in thought, and some hadn't even started writing yet.
After giving his instructions, the runner left with Fang Ming's poem and handed it to the judges behind the scenes.
At this moment, five old men were sitting in a room on the second floor of a painted boat, leisurely playing chess. A few young attendants were serving them tea and water.
These five men were renowned scholars in the entire city, and they were undoubtedly qualified to be judges for this competition.
"Shang Ba Feng Si," one old man declared triumphantly, placing a chess piece. The old man opposite him frowned, looking at the chessboard. With this move, his opponent had almost sealed the win.
"Knock, knock, knock." Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
"Enter."
A runner entered with a piece of Xuan paper. "Esteemed sirs, this is the first submitted entry for this competition."
The frowning elder, already in a bad mood due to his impending defeat, became even more agitated upon hearing the runner. "Someone's already finished a poem in just a few minutes? Does he think he's Cao Zhi, who wrote a seven-step poem?"
He disdained such individuals who did not take literature seriously.
Another elder said nothing but was also somewhat displeased. These esteemed scholars treated poetry and prose with great seriousness, not only for themselves but also for others.
"Let me see," the elder said with a smile. The runner quickly handed him the Xuan paper.
The elder began to read the poem. He had expected it to be a nonsensical jumble, but after a single glance, he couldn't take his eyes off it.
"Yu lin sha... brilliant! Such a metaphor requires significant literary background to write. 'Wind comes and goes, all are visitors from home,' this line perfectly captures the essence..." The elder exclaimed as he read, piquing the curiosity of the others.
"What is it, Master Zhao? Is the poem very good?" another elder asked.
"You all have a look," Master Zhao spread the Xuan paper on the table, and the others immediately gathered around.
As they read, they continuously praised it. One elder sighed, "The style of this poem is slightly immature, but its tone and content are extremely beautiful and rich in emotion. It's a rare masterpiece."
"Hmph, such a high-quality poem, could it be plagiarism?" the frowning elder remarked sarcastically. He was narrow-minded and somewhat jealous of the poem's author.
"This..." The scholars exchanged glances. It wasn't impossible, after all, homesickness was too broad a topic. If one had prepared in advance, cheating was not out of the question.
"Come here. I ask you, how old is the participant who submitted this work, and do you know them?" Master Zhao called out to the runner and inquired.
The runner quickly approached, bowing respectfully. "Reporting to Master Zhao, this participant is around twenty years old. I don't know them, and their entry card indicates they are not from this locality."
"This..." everyone hesitated for a moment.
"See, I told you it was plagiarism! How could someone only twenty years old write poetry of this caliber!" the frowning elder taunted.
"Could you please summon this young gentleman? We wish to test him further," Master Zhao asked gently.
"Certainly, Master Zhao, please wait. I will go and fetch him," the runner bowed and quickly ran out.
A few minutes later, the runner returned, followed by Fang Ming and Xiao Nan.
Fang Ming was also puzzled. Why were the judges suddenly looking for him?
"Hello, may I be so bold as to ask if this poem was written by you?" Master Zhao asked politely, gesturing towards the Xuan paper on the table.
Fang Ming glanced at it; it was his competition entry.
"If he wrote this, I'll eat this piece of Xuan paper!" the frowning elder sneered.
Fang Ming frowned unhappily at this remark. He glanced at the picky old man, who stared back at Fang Ming defiantly.
"This was indeed written by me," Fang Ming's gaze returned to Master Zhao, and he replied politely. He had a good impression of this old man, who exuded an aura of scholarly refinement.
"You claim to have written it, how will you prove it?" the frowning elder interjected again, clearly suspicious. He was determined to find evidence of Fang Ming's cheating.
Fang Ming, provoked by this person's repeated challenges, showed a hint of anger. "I wonder how you would like me to prove it?"
"Perhaps you could describe the scene under which you wrote this poem?" Master Zhao offered, trying to give Fang Ming an out. He felt the frowning elder was being excessive and didn't want to make things too difficult for Fang Ming.
"Hmph, what scene to describe? This is something that can be memorized. If you have the ability, write another one, and I'll be convinced!" the frowning elder scoffed.
Fang Ming took a deep breath. Even a clay figurine has three parts of spirit, let alone himself, who had done nothing wrong. To be attacked like this by a stranger, who could tolerate it?
"I wonder if you, esteemed judge, will keep your word?" Fang Ming asked with a peculiar smile.
Chai Tou Feng?
Fang Ming's brow furrowed inadvertently at the mention of the ci-pai. To fill a ci with a specific ci-pai not only required focusing on emotions but also on phonetics and rhythm, needing to be sung with musical beauty. The difficulty was imaginable.
"If you admit defeat, I will be lenient and only disqualify you from this year's competition. Otherwise, you will never be able to participate in future Yunxian Poetry Gatherings," the frowning elder declared triumphantly.
Fang Ming ignored his sarcastic remarks and recalled the format of Chai Tou Feng. Filling a ci, the crucial part was "filling," and the format must not be wrong.
A moment later, Fang Ming walked to the table, turned over his entry paper, and began to write on the back. Master Zhao curiously gathered around to watch Fang Ming fill the ci.
A few minutes later, Master Zhao looked at Fang Ming's lyrics with astonishment and gave the frowning elder a look that clearly conveyed "you're on your own."