Ode to the Wild Goose Mound

Suddenly, someone behind him laughed loudly, "Fantastic, Brother Liu! Absolutely brilliant! With this poem alone, you've secured a place in the top three today. I can't guarantee first place, but Brother Liu will definitely be among the top three! Brother Liu is truly a genius!"

Then he said in a sarcastic tone:

"I wonder how our talented scholar is doing with his writing?"

As soon as he said that, the people at Shen Jingchuan's two tables recovered from their shock. Zhou Tong, who had the most straightforward temper, immediately frowned and was about to retort.

Shen Jingchuan reached out and gently patted his arm, then turned around and said, "I bet Young Master Liu's poem won't even make the top ten, let alone the top three. Do you two believe me?"

After saying that, he turned around and ignored them.

Then I heard a loud slam on the table behind me, followed by a shout, "Who do you think you are? You think you can just say I can't get in?"

People were starting to stand up, carrying their completed poems to the collection area at the front of the stage. Shen Jingchuan signed his name at the end of the poem, then turned and softly called out, "Yue'er, come and hand in this poem."

Yue'er quickly responded and stepped forward, carefully picking up the poem and holding it gently in her hand.

Shen Jingchuan smiled and looked at Xu Mo and Su Yan, casually asking:

"Gentlemen, don't just look at mine, how are your poems coming along?"

Xu Mo shook his head with a wry smile, "After reading Brother Shen's poem, I realize that the lines I have in my mind are simply not presentable, so there's no need to write any more." His tone was frank, full of genuine admiration, without a trace of jealousy.

Su Yan was even more decisive, simply placing his brush on the brush holder and waving his hand. "I need not say anything more; I was only here to join in the fun. Now that there are such excellent works before me, it would be embarrassing for me to write anything. I won't write anything; I'll just wait and see Brother Shen win first place."

Shen Jingchuan smiled upon hearing this and gestured with his chin towards Yue'er. Yue'er understood, picked up the poem, and quickly walked towards the collection area in front of the stage.

As the incense stick burned out, no one else stepped forward to hand in their paper.

Jin Niang slowly stepped onto the stage and announced in a loud voice, "The time has come. Next is the second question. Please welcome Mr. Liu Yanshan, the grandmaster of poetry criticism in the Great Qian Dynasty, to pose the question for everyone."

As everyone looked up, they saw an elderly man in a blue robe with half-white hair and beard slowly stand up beside Prince Jing by the elegant railing on the second floor. His expression was serene, and his brows carried a hint of scholarly arrogance.

His voice was steady and clear, carrying throughout the audience. "His Highness Prince Jing is considerate of everyone and has set the questions leniently. I will play the villain and not go easy on him."

"Take autumn geese as the theme, and you may write poems, lyrics, or prose; compose a piece within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn."

As soon as the question was announced, the audience erupted in an uproar. No one had expected the second question to be about autumn geese, rendering all the Mid-Autumn Festival-related poems they had prepared useless, and the audience immediately began to discuss it.

Shen Jingchuan was also taken aback. He searched through all the classic poems he remembered, but couldn't find a single one that was specifically about wild geese in autumn.

Just as I was worrying, the phrase "Flying birds from all corners of the world, their old wings have weathered many winters and summers" suddenly popped into my head.

Back then, when he read Jin Yong's novels, he was deeply moved by the story of Li Mochou. He specially found the complete poem "Groping for Fish - Wild Goose Mound Lyric" and read it over and over again. He even read the allusions and sources behind it several times. He had long since memorized the poem.

He knew in his heart that this word was definitely unique in the world, but he wasn't sure if the word "Groping for Fish" (mo yu er) was appropriate here.

Just to be on the safe side, we can let Zhou Tong, Su Yan, and Xu Mo take a look first. If there's a problem with the poem's title, we can simply not submit it, and no one will know; if there's nothing wrong, it's not too late to submit it then.

He turned his head and lowered his voice to say to Lin Qingyao, "Miss Lin, I'll have to trouble you with something else."

Lin Qingyao was a little surprised. "You've already made up your mind?"

"Just a fleeting feeling."

Shen Jingchuan read the words aloud softly, line by line, and Lin Qingyao picked up her pen to write.

Lin Qingyao initially focused on writing, but as she listened, her fingertips gradually trembled, and she often became absent-minded, requiring Shen Jingchuan to read it aloud again before she could continue.

Upon hearing the line, "Joyful moments, bitter partings, and among them, foolish lovers," a sudden pang of sadness struck her, and a tear, unable to be held back, fell squarely onto the plain paper.

She hurriedly pulled out a handkerchief to dab at the corner of her eye, suppressing the tremor in her heart as she continued writing, feeling as if every word was hitting her heart—she couldn't fathom what kind of joys and sorrows Shen Jingchuan had experienced to write such heartfelt and poignant sentences.

After writing the last word, she lowered her eyes, staring intently at the poem, not blinking for a long time.

Zhou Tong had been watching this side. Seeing that Lin Qingyao's eyes were red after she finished writing on the note, he didn't dare to snatch it this time. Instead, he got up and leaned over the table, craning his neck to look.

He had only skimmed a few lines when he reached for the paper and began to read. Even though he was completely unfamiliar with classical Chinese poetry, he felt a heaviness in his chest. Clutching the paper, he sat back down and remained silent for a long time.

Xu Mo and Su Yan hadn't even started writing yet. Qiu Yan's topic was quite narrow, and they were at a loss for what to do. They were waiting to see Shen Jingchuan's approach would be.

Seeing that Zhou Tong was holding the note and wouldn't let go, Xu Mo didn't say anything, but directly leaned over and snatched the note away. Zhou Tong was still stunned and didn't react.

Su Yan immediately moved closer, and the two of them looked at each other side by side, their expressions becoming increasingly tense.

Both of them were in turmoil. Xu Mo was well-versed in the collections of poems from past dynasties and understood their significance best. The opening question came out of nowhere, directly addressing the deepest emotions of life and death. The entire poem used wild geese to represent people, depicting the companionship across the north and south and the loneliness after losing a spouse in a melancholy yet passionate way. The weight of the writing and the height of the intention were not impromptu; they were a masterpiece that could be passed down to future generations.

Su Yan felt a tightness in his chest, and when he read the lines "Across ten thousand miles of layered clouds, a thousand mountains covered in snow at dusk, a lone figure, to whom does it turn?" his nose tingled. He had never seen anyone write about infatuation in such a desolate and magnificent way, and for a moment he was lost in thought.

Xu Mo snapped out of his daze, put down the note, and immediately grabbed paper and pen to quickly copy the entire poem and put it away. Su Yan also realized what was happening and hurriedly grabbed paper and pen as well, copying the whole poem.

Looking at their expressions, Shen Jingchuan understood. That's right, it seems there's no problem.

Without saying a word, he reached out and took the original poem from the table, wrote his signature, and was about to hand it to Yue'er.

Zhou Tong finally came to his senses, quickly came over, grabbed the paper and copied it down in a flash. Without Yue'er, he carried the scroll to the edge of the stage himself.

Just then, a sour voice drifted from behind. "Wow! Pretty fast, huh? You got lucky, you were prepared in advance!"

Before Shen Jingchuan could answer, Xu Mo couldn't hold back any longer. He was usually very refined, but now he was also angry. He slammed his folding fan on the table and stood up to turn around and argue.

Before he could speak, a commotion suddenly broke out in the front row of the judging panel. Several elderly scholars crowded together, vying to see a piece of poetry. One of them, with a loud voice, read it aloud on the spot:

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