Chapter 34: Murong Kai and Zhao Bingchun Are Completely Stunned

At this moment, Li Yuanjing finally began to understand the situation.

So it was like this.

Murong Kai and Zhao Bingchun were just like the eager fans of books and dramas from later generations, longing for the complete version of their favorites.

However—

“The talent I possess must have its use by nature,” was a line from Li Bai’s “Bring in the Wine.” Such a rebellious verse was clearly not suitable to reveal at this moment.

As for “Fate brings us together, even from a thousand miles away,” Li Yuanjing vaguely remembered it was a playful phrase from “Water Margin,” and certainly did not have a complete poem attached to it.

Neither of these were fit to present.

Seeing the growing anticipation in Murong Kai and Zhao Bingchun’s eyes, a sudden inspiration struck Li Yuanjing, and he couldn’t help but let a smile curl at the corners of his lips.

He had thought of a good way out!

He laughed and said,

“My lords, these two lines were merely idle scribbles by a humble student—there really is no continuation to them.”

“However—”

“Recently, some changes have occurred at home, and I have gained new insights into life and the world. In fact, I have composed something new.”

“If the two noble gentlemen do not mind, would you care to come to my humble abode? I wish to write this new poem and invite you both, men of great talent, to offer your critique!”

Murong Kai and Zhao Bingchun had rushed here through the night, already weary and thirsty. Now, with Li Yuanjing’s warm invitation, they naturally did not stand on ceremony and followed him into his home with cheerful smiles.

Yu Niang was utterly stunned by the scene.

She could never have dreamed of this.

This was the county magistrate of Fengcheng, the father of one hundred thousand citizens, and today he was coming to their home as a guest…

Especially the gentleman in white, who seemed to be of even higher status than Magistrate Zhao Bingchun…

How had her brother accomplished this?

Outside,

The old village chief, Zhao Zengjin, and the others were all dumbfounded, unable to find words to express their feelings.

The gap between people truly was as vast as the clouds and the mud…

And at the back of the crowd,

Lotus’s delicate hands were tightly entwined, her pearly white teeth nearly drawing blood from her soft lips.

Before, though she had known there was a difference between herself and Li Yuanjing, she had never felt it was so great.

After all,

She was the old village chief’s daughter, and in Spring Village, she still had her share of pride.

But now…

Lotus found herself in complete disarray, her mind blank and reeling…

—

Behind the rammed-earth wall of a modest house at the foot of the little hill, a slender and frail figure was quietly watching the unfolding scene.

But as she noticed a group of curious onlookers hurrying toward this spot, she quickly shrank back behind the wall.

Only after the crowd had passed did she cautiously poke her head out again, her gaze fixed unblinkingly on Li Yuanjing’s dilapidated home…

—

“Girl.”

“What are you standing there for? Hurry and prepare some food for our honored guests. Just make some egg soup and crispy fish.”

Back in his own home, Li Yuanjing smiled and beckoned Yu Niang to cook for Murong Kai and Zhao Bingchun, then added apologetically,

“My lords, my family is truly poor. We have no tea to serve and must ask your forgiveness for such meager hospitality.”

Murong Kai and Zhao Bingchun, already famished, paid no heed to such details and urged Li Yuanjing, all smiles, to write his new composition at once.

Li Yuanjing smiled, not bothering with further pleasantries, and laid out paper, beginning to grind ink.

Murong Kai and Zhao Bingchun exchanged glances, anticipation clear in their eyes, though there was a hint of playful challenge between them.

It was as though they were making a wager—testing whether Li Yuanjing’s new work would prove itself worthy or fall short.

In no time at all,

Li Yuanjing finished grinding the ink. Without further ado, he drew a deep breath and firmly wrote the opening line of his poem:

“If only life were but as at first meeting, why grieve for the painted fan, mourned by autumn wind?”

“I—”

The moment Li Yuanjing finished writing this line, the playful amusement in Murong Kai and Zhao Bingchun’s eyes vanished; both were utterly stunned.

Murong Kai, in particular, leapt up in excitement, his face flushed red. He wanted to speak, but was so overcome he could not utter a word, almost rolling his eyes in agitation.

Zhao Bingchun, more composed and mature, took several deep breaths to calm himself before finally speaking. Even so, his hands trembled with excitement:

“A fine poem—and what superb calligraphy!”

“Brother Yuanjing, I am hardly qualified to judge your verse, but your calligraphy alone is worthy of a true master—enough to found a new school!”

Zhao Bingchun was genuinely moved, his old face flushed with excitement as he spoke.

For it was known that in the Great Qian Dynasty’s civil examinations, aside from the rigid form of the eight-legged essay, calligraphy was most highly prized.

Several centuries ago, at the founding of the Great Qian, there were a few great masters of calligraphy and the scholarly atmosphere was at its height.

But over the centuries, the younger generations grew weaker, relying only on the reputation of their ancestors.

By the present day, not only the young, but even among the elders, few could boast any truly accomplished calligraphy.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” Murong Kai finally found his voice, exclaiming excitedly,

“Brother Li—what a poem, what calligraphy! Let me speak candidly: if word of these two lines spreads, I fear the ten thousand brothels across the land would all open their doors to you, Brother Li, free of charge…”

Li Yuanjing only smiled, humbly deflecting their praise.

—

He had expected this reaction.

For the calligraphy of the Great Qian was much like the cursive script of later ages—full of spirit and grandeur, but lacking in structure and order.

In his past life, thanks to his father-in-law and fiancée, Li Yuanjing had studied both Slender Gold and Palace Script in depth.

Now,

Unleashing this most elegant of styles, the Slender Gold Script, upon the unsuspecting Murong Kai and Zhao Bingchun—they could not help but be overwhelmed.

It was, in truth, a strike from another dimension…

Once the two men had recovered, Li Yuanjing wasted no time and continued writing.

“In a moment, the heart of an old friend changes;
And yet, they say, ‘the heart is easily altered.’
After words at Mount Li, the midnight clear,
Tears rain down, the bell’s chime—yet there is no blame.
What worth, that faithless lord in shining robes?
Once, we wished to be twin birds, joined in flight.”

When he had finished, Li Yuanjing paid no mind to the utterly dumbstruck, statue-like Murong Kai and Zhao Bingchun.

At the bottom of the page, he signed his work:

“Li Yuanjing, scholar of Fengcheng. Written at the hour of Si, on the thirtieth day of the ninth month, in the twenty-first year of Longtai under the Great Qian.”

“Brother Li, Brother Li, this, this, this—”

Murong Kai finally came back to his senses. He wanted to speak, but his thoughts lagged behind; his fair face flushed red, and he could not form a complete sentence.

Beside him,

Zhao Bingchun could not restrain his admiration:

“Brother Yuanjing, this poem and this calligraphy are worth a thousand pieces of gold—a thousand pieces of gold, indeed—”

“Far more than a thousand!” Murong Kai finally recovered, shaking his head with a wry smile.

“Sir, such a lyric poem would fetch far more than ten thousand gold. Should it ever reach the capital or Jiangnan, the famed courtesans would spend fortunes just to have Brother Li inscribe a few lines…”

As he spoke, a sudden realization struck Murong Kai. He turned to Li Yuanjing, eyes burning with hope:

“Brother Li, could you part with this calligraphy? I am willing to offer a thousand—no, ten thousand taels of silver—if only you’ll let me have it…”

As he spoke, Murong Kai bowed deeply to Li Yuanjing with utmost respect—as a younger brother would to his elder.