A Lucky Guess

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As Shen Jingchuan strolled through the garden, admiring the scenery, a young scholar strode towards him, bowing respectfully and saying, "Young Master Shen, we've finally waited for you."

Shen Jingchuan recognized him after a moment's thought—it was the disciple who had written the invitation card next to Juren Zhang during the entrance exam the day before. The scholar quickly introduced himself:

"I am a student of Juren Zhang, surnamed Wang. My teacher knew you would be attending today, so he specially asked me to wait at the garden gate and reserve a seat for you."

Shen Jingchuan nodded upon hearing this, thanked him, turned around and called to Zhou Tong and the others, then followed the scholar to the side of the waterside pavilion.

That area, right next to the carved railings of the waterside pavilion, offered a wide view, allowing a clear view of the entire poetry gathering inside, while being much quieter than the crowded areas outside.

The scholar led everyone to sit at two tables: Zhou Tong, Xu Mo, and Su Yan sat at one table, while Shen Jingchuan, Lin Qingyao, Yue'er sat at the other table.

The servants waiting nearby quickly stepped forward to brew tea and set out snacks, Yue'er also got up to help add water and serve.

The scholar surnamed Wang finished making the arrangements and took his leave. He returned shortly afterward, bowed to Shen Jingchuan, and said:

"Young Master Shen, my master requests your presence to introduce you to some senior figures in the literary world."

Shen Jingchuan got up, greeted Lin Qingyao and Zhou Tong, and then followed the scholar to the main seating area directly in front of the waterside pavilion.

This area was filled with middle-aged and elderly scholars, all dressed in clean long gowns. Some had white hair and beards and exuded a calm demeanor, while others had sharp eyes and a natural air of integrity.

Juren Zhang, was chatting with two other scholars who had been appraising the poems written in the garden that day when they saw Shen Jingchuan approaching. All three of them immediately stood up.

Juren Zhang quickly stepped forward, smiling as he took Shen Jingchuan's wrist and introduced him to the assembled guests.

He turned to the crowd and spoke loudly:

"My old friends, weren't you just asking me which talented scholar wrote the famous poem 'Autumn Mountain Journey' that was so well-known throughout Chang'an? Well, the very person in question has arrived today."

He gestured for Shen Jingchuan to step forward, then continued, "This is my Young Friend Shen Jingchuan, from Yuxi Prefecture in the north. To possess such poetic talent at such a young age is truly remarkable; he is a rare rising star."

After he finished speaking, all eyes in the room fell on Shen Jingchuan, filled with surprise and admiration. Only then did Juren Zhang, turn around and introduce each person to Shen Jingchuan:

"This is Compiler Li from the Hanlin Academy, and this is Academy Head Zhao from the North Corner Academy..."

Each time a person was mentioned, Shen Jingchuan would cup his hands in greeting, and everyone would nod and smile, acknowledging this newly emerging young talent.

After exchanging greetings with all the seniors, Shen Jingchuan cupped his hands in farewell.

Although Juren Zhang, wanted to invite him to sit and chat, he saw that the man was respectful and insisted on staying, so he did not press him further.

Shen Jingchuan acknowledged the invitation and took his leave, walking back through the scattered seating area to his own seat.

The table overlooked the carved railings of the waterside pavilion, where a gentle breeze carried the fragrance of osmanthus, and the view was bright and open. He and Lin Qingyao sat on opposite sides, with Yue'er standing beside Lin Qingyao, ready to refill tea and serve dishes at any time.

At another small table right next to them, Zhou Tong, Xu Mo, and Su Yan were sitting and chatting.

He had just sat down when Zhou Tong leaned over and whispered, suppressing a laugh:

"Young Master Shen is truly famous now. Didn't you see the way those old gentlemen looked at you just now? Among so many scholars in the garden, who could gain the approval of these renowned Confucian scholars?"

Shen Jingchuan smiled and waved his hand, his tone humble:

"Brother Zhou, you flatter me. I merely had a sudden inspiration while traveling and uttered a few words to suit the occasion. It was just a coincidence, nothing more. I don't deserve such praise."

The words had barely left his mouth when a very soft, sarcastic laugh came from the next table behind them, the tone sharp and biting, reaching their ears:

"At least he has some self-awareness; he knows he was just lucky."

The group turned around at the sound and saw two young men in their early twenties, dressed in blue robes, sitting on the table behind them. One held a folding fan and waved it lightly, while the other held a teacup and lowered his eyes. Both of them had undisguised arrogance and disdain on their faces.

The scholar holding the fan slightly raised his eyelids and slowly replied:

"That's right. What skills can someone who has to take an exam to enter the garden possibly have? He just got lucky and gained some fame with a poem, and now he thinks he's a genius. If it were a real competition, he probably wouldn't have anything truly impressive to offer."

The two spoke as if it were a private conversation at the table, but their volume was just right, so that two or three tables around them could hear them clearly. It was obvious that they were deliberately speaking for Shen Jingchuan and his group to hear.

Xu Mo and Su Yan at the next table also turned their heads, their cold gazes sweeping over the two of them. Their brows furrowed slightly, and although they did not utter a word in rebuttal, their annoyance was obvious.

Zhou Tong, who was known for his forthright and fiery nature, immediately darkened his expression and turned around, saying coldly:

"You two are going too far with your words. If you're so capable, why don't you try to 'guess' a poem that will be known throughout Chang'an City? What kind of skill is it to just talk behind someone's back?"

The scholar holding the fan chuckled and raised his chin, saying:

"Poetry gatherings rely on genuine talent and skill. If someone has real ability, they should present a few excellent works for everyone to appreciate. If they always rely on a single, accidental piece, wouldn't it make them seem like they've run out of ideas?"

"You think timeless masterpieces are like cabbages in the marketplace, something you can pick up anywhere?" Zhou Tong laughed in exasperation, leaning forward slightly.

"I would like to ask you two if you have any masterpieces that you could share with us and broaden our horizons?"

The scholar's face stiffened slightly, and he was about to retort when Shen Jingchuan suddenly reached out and gently placed his hand on Zhou Tong's arm, shaking his head slightly with a calm expression, indicating that he did not need to say anything more.

Lin Qingyao's fingertips were already gripping the rim of the teacup, her brows furrowed tightly. She was by nature fiery-tempered, and in any other setting she would have already retorted, but today was a gathering of literati, and she was a young woman; to argue in public would be undignified.

Suppressing her anger, she turned her head and said softly to Shen Jingchuan, "Young Master Shen, there's no need to stoop to their level."

Zhou Tong reluctantly stopped talking, turned around, and said in a low, angry voice:

"I know these two. They're from the North Corner Academy. The one with the fan is called Liu Wenyan, and the other is Zhao Chong. They're quite well-known among the younger generation in Chang'an. Last year, Liu Wenyan's poem 'Ode to Autumn' even won a top ten prize at the poetry gathering. He's incredibly arrogant, looks down on everyone, and doesn't respect anyone. Brother Shen, don't bother with him."

Suddenly, the laughter and chatter that filled the garden seemed to be cut off by the wind, and gradually fell silent.

Shen Jingchuan looked up and saw a woman slowly walking out from the high platform in the center of the waterside pavilion. She was dressed in a plain white gauze dress, the wide sleeves of which swayed gently with her steps. Her waist was slender, and her gait was graceful and charming.

The corridor was brightly lit, casting a soft glow around her. Her face was covered by a white veil, revealing only half of her smooth chin and her captivating eyes. The obscured features only added to her alluring mystery.

Holding a black lacquered guqin in her arms, she walked to the table, sat down gracefully, and gently placed the guqin on the table with her delicate hands.

With just this simple gesture of bowing his head and raising his hand, the entire garden fell completely silent. Even Liu Wenyan and his companion, who had been arguing loudly just moments before, involuntarily fell silent, their gazes fixed on the stage.