67 ‘Picking Lotus’
Wang Yu furrowed his brow, gazing out the window with a thoughtful expression.
At this moment, Mo Qingkuang had already received reassurance from Mo Fan and remained calm, even feeling a bit amused.
He simply waited quietly for Wang Yu to play his part.
The literary candidates all looked at Wang Yu with anticipation, waiting for the masterpiece he was about to unfold.
Meanwhile, the martial arts candidates wore worried expressions. This unfair competition made it difficult for them to maintain confidence in Mo Qingkuang.
Suddenly, Wang Yu turned around abruptly, swung his sleeves forcefully, and shouted, "Bring the wine!"
Immediately, someone understanding brought the wine and complimented, "Young Master Wang must have a draft in mind. The ancients used wine to stimulate inspiration. Today, Young Master Wang must be going to compose poetry like the ancients!"
This echoed praise quickly caught everyone's attention, and all eyes turned to Wang Yu.
He lifted the wine jug, and poured it directly into his mouth without hesitation, letting the transparent liquid flow continuously into his mouth. Some of it even splashed onto his clothes, but he paid no attention.
After drinking several mouthfuls, Wang Yu flung the wine jug away and exclaimed, "Refreshing!"
With the flush of alcohol on his face and the dampness of his clothes, he exuded a wild and carefree demeanour.
"Diamond brocade mixed with floral hairpins!" Wang Yu swayed his head and recited with full posture as he walked around.
"Wearing a green robe adorned with green lotus, I ask, where is my beloved going today? She goes to pick lotus flowers south of the river. Three thousand miles to the west, wanting to send but lacking the opportunity. I hope you will return early and enjoy the freshness of the lotus flowers." In the increasingly astonished gazes of the crowd, Wang Yu vividly recited the 'Ode to Lotus Flowers' to completion.
"Bravo!" The literary group was always the first to respond.
Flattery was always welcomed in literary circles.
Even if Wang Yu's 'Ode to Lotus Flowers' was only average, it would still receive widespread praise.
After listening to it, Zheng Tao's eyes lit up, and he was about to praise it when he heard Dean Hua whisper, "Old man Wang's poem is indeed not bad."
"Hmm? Was this written by Wang Hua?" Zheng Tao was stunned.
"Of course. Do you think Wang Yu has the ability to write such a poem? The emotions expressed in this poem are not something a young man like Wang Yu, seventeen or eighteen years old, can understand. What right does he have to write it?" Dean Hua sneered.
"Besides, this poem was not originally like this. After Wang Hua wrote the original manuscript, he asked me to review it, and I helped him revise it before it became what it is now."
"However, this poem was written recently and has not been circulated. For Wang Yu to recite this poem now, he's not too stupid."
Zheng Tao was speechless, sighing inwardly. This was a destined-to-fail competition.
At this moment, Dean Hua added more fuel to the fire with a smile, "Well done, excellent poem!"
Hearing Dean Hua's praise, Wang Yu smiled broadly, almost grinning from ear to ear.
This was praised by the dean of the literary department, the approval of the literary star of the Golden Generation!
He modestly said, "Dean, you flatter me. I just casually improvised. I hope Dean will teach me more in the future."
"Hmm." Seeing Wang Yu's smugness, Dean Hua didn't expose him and just responded with a noncommittal sound.
"Young Master Wang's literary talent is truly outstanding. He deserves the title of literary champion!" The literary candidates praised one after another, showering Wang Yu with compliments.
However, unlike the joy on the literary side, the hearts of the martial arts candidates sank to the bottom.
This poem was indeed excellent, enough to be passed down through the ages.
Even among martial artists, many had a hobby of studying poetry and could discern its quality.
"I don't believe one bit that this poem was made by Wang Yu!" Tang Yu was the most infuriated, snorting.
He knew the insider story of Wang Yu's literary championship. If Wang Yu truly had such literary talent, why would he need to write such an article to vie for the championship?
He was about to expose it but was stopped by Gu Hongyi. "Don't be impulsive. We haven't heard of this poem before. Whether it's made by Wang Yu or not, you have no evidence to prove that it's not made by him."
"But I can't just watch him use some plagiarized poetry to bully Brother Mo!" Tang Yu's face was full of discontent.
"Wait a moment, this poem!" Gu Hongyi suddenly realized something, her eyes lit up, and she said, "This is a poem! But its title is 'Ode to Lotus Flowers'. Young Master Wang, this doesn't quite follow the rules, does it?"
(T/N: I didn't fully understand this part, but translated it anyway. If any of you fellow Daoists understood this, feel free to share.)
Tang Yu was overjoyed and secretly gave Gu Hongyi a thumbs up. "You've got some skills."
Wang Yu's eyes also flickered. Indeed, this was a poem titled 'Picking Lotus,' but he had changed the title temporarily to better fit his chosen theme.
He hadn't expected to be caught by Gu Hongyi.
Just as the martial artists thought Wang Yu was about to be tongue-tied...
Wang Yu's eyes darted around, then he smiled and said, "Miss Gu is being too strict. Poetry and prose are essentially the same; the difference lies only in the format of expression. Since Miss Gu feels that 'Ode to Lotus Flowers' is not appropriate, then I will change it. How about 'Picking Lotus'?"
"'Picking Lotus' is good. It fits the theme of this poem better. Young Master Wang, you're highly talented!" As soon as Wang Yu finished speaking, someone echoed, not giving Gu Hongyi a chance to interrupt, simply reaffirming the fact that this was a good poem.
Gu Hongyi sighed inwardly when she saw this. With everyone chiming in, this hard-found problem was once again covered up.
Wang Yu secretly remembered the person who echoed and thought to reward him with a promising future opportunity.
Then, he looked at Mo Qingkuang. "What do you think, Brother Mo?"
Mo Qingkuang didn't understand poetry, but he could tell from everyone's expressions that this poem was quite good.
But he couldn't praise it openly, so he nodded reservedly. "Not bad."
"Oh? Just 'not bad'? It seems that Brother Mo doesn't think much of my poem. I'm sure Brother Mo already has a better draft in mind. Why not share it with us for our enjoyment?" Wang Yu raised an eyebrow, continuing to press Mo Qingkuang step by step.
"Yes, I believe Young Master Mo must be talented in both literature and martial arts. Why not recite your draft for us to learn from?" The echoing friend once again played his role.
Everyone looked at Mo Qingkuang. With 'Picking Lotus' out in the open, they were almost certain that Mo Qingkuang had no chance. Now they just wanted to see if Mo Qingkuang could produce a poem of decent quality to save some face.
Especially the literary candidates looked at Mo Qingkuang with mockery and pity.
For Mo Qingkuang, they had respect, but also jealousy.
In previous years, Tianxuan was weak, and the quality of martial arts candidates was not high.
Although Tianxuan was revered for martial arts, in the Tianxuan Empire, the imperial examination for literature often outshone martial arts. Today, Mo Qingkuang emerged as the brightest star, and the importance of the literary examination was no longer as high as before, so they harboured a small jealousy.
They would feel a different kind of satisfaction watching this rising star make a fool of himself.
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