Long Jianji was undoubtedly a clever man.
His status was exalted. If he entered the contest himself and won, it wouldn't mean much; he already had all the fame he needed. But if he lost, he'd become a laughingstock.
Having Wen Bin and Fan Xingyun enter the contest while he watched from the sidelines was naturally the best idea.
Of course, he didn't want to remain entirely uninvolved. This contest could very well go down in history, and as the one who set the challenge, he'd be perfectly placed to do so.
Besides, Long Jianji's literary refinement was truly exceptional. He deeply agreed with Wen Bin and Fan Xingyun's analysis and was almost certain Xu Yi had stolen his Literary Fame.
But the key to exposing Xu Yi's true colors lay in the challenge.
"I trust Your Highness to set the challenge. Please don't make it too unconventional."
Fan Xingyun cupped his hands.
"Exactly. Make it as obscure and unfamiliar as possible. Then we'll have quite a show."
Wen Bin stared at Xu Yi and snorted.
Long Jianji waved his hand. "Why go to such lengths? Here's what we'll do. I have an old poem. Everyone can write one in imitation of it. Any style is acceptable, and there's no need to follow any particular meter. Just capture its essence."
As soon as he finished speaking, a sheet of white paper appeared in Long Jianji's palm, and several lines of text appeared on it.
It was a short poem:
Spring's bright melody, brocade praised for its beauty.
Heartache weaves sorrow; along the long road, I long for you.
Parting from kindred hearts, my breast swells with quiet thoughts.
The green phoenix's fragrance fades; dew glimmers at dawn on the golden screen.
Dreams stretch on and on; words are drawn out,