Gazing at the Moon, Thinking of One Far Away

Shen Jingchuan didn't come here just to join the fun; he had a purpose—he was here for clues about the Spirit Stones.

He barely knew anyone in this strange world and had absolutely no clue whatsoever. If he just watched the spectacle and headed back home, wouldn't his trip to Chang'an have been a complete waste?

This poetry gathering is the best breakthrough. If we can get a good ranking, or even make a name for ourselves, we can get to know more prominent figures in Chang'an, the Capital, or even other countries, which will greatly increase our chances of finding clues to the Spirit Stone.

His goal was clear: not only to get a ranking, but to get first place, and preferably to stun the entire audience.

For today, he made a special trip back to the modern era last night. He took out his phone and went through all the famous poems and lyrics from the Tang and Song dynasties that were about the Mid-Autumn Festival and the moon.

He had memorized the well-known lines by heart back in school, so that was a piece of cake; but for those lines he only remembered the famous quotes and not the whole text, he would repeatedly memorize them by rote.

Although his physical condition improved after transmigrating, and his memory also improved significantly, he was, after all, a science student, and he wasn't entirely confident that he could memorize so many poems in such a short time.

Just in case, I simply found some paper and copied down each of the dozen or so poems I had chosen, then tucked them into my pocket as a backup plan, making sure I was well-prepared.

As for whether having too much fame was dangerous, Shen Jingchuan had no psychological burden whatsoever.

He's someone who can travel between two worlds at any time and disappear without a trace in the blink of an eye; he has nothing to fear no matter where he is.

The only thing he needed to be careful about was being poisoned in secret or attacked when he wasn't paying attention—given even a second's reaction time, he could escape immediately, and he wouldn't be afraid of even the most inescapable trap.

Just then, Prince Jing finished announcing the first question: to write a poem on the theme of "moon." The room was filled with the soft rustling of pens and paper. Few people were concentrating on their thoughts, as the question was basically clear and everyone was prepared.

Shen Jingchuan glanced at the private seats on Lake View Tower, a confident smile playing on his lips.

I've prepared several poems, but which one should I use? The rule is that any poem or lyrics are acceptable.

Shen Jingchuan sat there, his mind racing with calculations.

The first one that came to mind was Su Shi's "Prelude to Water Prelude to Water Melody." When it comes to writing about the Mid-Autumn Moon, later generations say that once this one comes out, the rest are no match for it. But then he had a change of heart—he wasn't sure if the title "Prelude to Water Melody" even existed in this world. If it came down to strict rules and regulations, his half-baked knowledge might easily expose his ignorance.

Then he thought of "A Moonlit Night on the Spring River," a masterpiece hailed as "a single poem that surpasses all others in the Tang Dynasty," its significance undeniable. But the poem was too long. Although he had copied a cheat sheet last night and kept it in his pocket, if he were to actually take it out and someone were to pull him aside to discuss the details of the words and phrases, he himself wouldn't be able to recite it all, and he would definitely be exposed. After thinking it over, he decided it wasn't worth taking the risk.

In the end, he settled on Zhang Jiuling's "Looking at the Moon and Thinking of a Distant Friend," a simple poem that he himself knew by heart. The opening line is grand in scope, and the whole poem is concise and profound, more than enough to set the tone for the occasion.

Seeing that he hadn't put pen to paper for a while, and that he looked like he had made up his mind, Lin Qingyao couldn't help but smile and ask:

"Young Master Shen, I've noticed you haven't picked up your pen for a while. Could it be that you've already finished writing it? Or that you've prepared it a long time ago?"

"You know what, I actually prepared one." Shen Jingchuan smiled at her and pushed the paper and pen towards her. "Do me a favor, I'll read it aloud and you write it down, we'll finish it together."

Although Lin Qingyao was somewhat surprised, she didn't ask any further questions. She picked up a wolf-hair brush, dipped it in ink, and nodded to signal him to speak.

Shen Jingchuan cleared his throat and slowly read aloud, word by word:

The bright moon rises over the sea; we share this moment though we are far apart.

Lovers lament the long night, their longing rising with each passing evening.

I extinguish the candle, pitying the remaining light; I put on my robe, feeling the dew's dampness.

I cannot bear to give you all this; I will return to my bed to dream of our happy reunion.

Lin Qingyao held the wolf-hair brush and followed his voice, writing each character in turn.

As she finished writing the opening lines, "A bright moon rises over the sea, we share this moment though far apart," her pen paused slightly. This single opening line alone was like the moon rising over the vast ocean, its grandeur breathtaking. She was startled for a moment, then glanced furtively at Shen Jingchuan before quickly lowering her eyes to continue copying.

As she wrote the lines, "Lovers lament the long night, their longing rising with the passing of time," the pressure on her wrist unconsciously increased. The words "longing" seemed to carry warmth, striking straight into her heart.

She already harbored some girlish feelings for Shen Jingchuan. Her usual awkwardness when she saw him, her longing after they parted, and all those emotions hidden deep in her heart that she dared not even think about in detail were all brought out by this line of poetry.

It turns out that those who are sentimental all lament the long night, all enduring the sleepless nights of longing—it turns out that the feelings of this world are so interconnected.

She composed herself, barely managing to suppress the turmoil in her heart, and continued writing.

"Extinguishing the candle, I cherish the remaining moonlight; donning my robe, I feel the dew's dampness." These ten characters perfectly capture the image of someone tossing and turning, unable to sleep, gazing at the moon in the dead of night. She recalled her own sleepless nights under the moon, gazing at the moon from the window in the same way, exactly as described in the poem. For a moment, she felt a little dazed, as if the poem wasn't written by Shen Jingchuan, but rather reflected her own feelings.

As the last line, "I cannot bear to give you this handful of flowers, I will return to my bed to dream of our happy reunion," was written, the entire poem unfolded before her eyes. Lin Qingyao picked up her pen, her gaze falling on the paper as she read it over and over again, becoming completely absorbed in it.

Moonlight streamed through the window lattice, illuminating the rice paper. The handwriting was elegant, the poetry gentle and lingering. Her mind was in turmoil. Had he, too, been thinking of someone far away when he wrote these lines? Could it be her? Sitting here with him now, sharing this same moon, writing this same poem, truly felt like "sharing this moment though separated by vast distances." Could it be that Young Master Shen...?

In a daze, Lin Qingyao recalled Shen Jingchuan carrying her as they fled, her soft breasts pressed against his back, and how Shen Jingchuan tore open her clothes to treat her wounds, seeing her naked... Her pretty face flushed instantly. Oh dear! What am I thinking?

Lin Qingyao was staring intently at the poem, while Zhou Tong, who had been peeking at her for a long time, saw that she had finished writing but hadn't moved for a while. So he reached out and snatched the paper away with a "whoosh".

He held the poem and read it aloud from beginning to end, stroking his chin and nodding repeatedly:

"Great, that's wonderful! Although I'm not an expert in poetry, I can still distinguish between good and bad."

Xu Mo, who was standing to the side, had already picked up his pen; he had prepared a poem in advance and was about to put pen to paper. Seeing Zhou Tong snatch the poem and look at it with great interest, he put down his pen and held out his hand, saying:

"Brother Zhou, let me take a look too."

Zhou Tong didn't hold back at all and handed it over without hesitation:

"You're the expert, you should judge for yourself. It looks really good to me, but I just don't know how to express it."

Xu Mo took the poem, and his expression changed abruptly as soon as he glanced at the first line.

"The bright moon rises over the sea, we share this moment though we are far apart..." He murmured half a line, then felt his heart tighten and his scalp tingle. Yesterday, Jade Autumn Garden's poem "Autumn Mountain Journey" was already stunning enough; he had thought it was a masterpiece written by Shen Jingchuan by chance.

Who would have thought that in just a short while today, the other party would produce another poem, the opening of which was so grand and majestic, perfectly natural and without the slightest trace of artifice.

Su Yan, who was resting her chin on her hand and pondering, quickly leaned over to look at Shen Jingchuan's poem when Xu Mo brought it over.

He read it once without saying a word, then read it again, and finally couldn't stand it anymore:

"My goodness, this is amazing! 'Extinguishing the candle, I cherish the remaining light; putting on my robe, I feel the dew'—the scene is described so vividly, it's as if I witnessed it myself! With just this one poem, how could I possibly be the winner today?"