Heavenly Pavilion.
Three stories high, it stood in the bustling heart of the capital, positioned atop the course of the dragon vein. Grand in scale and renowned throughout the land, its highest third-floor roof was nearly level with the imperial site for sacrifices to Heaven.
The first floor was a spacious, brightly lit main hall capable of accommodating numerous guests;
The second floor held private rooms, some themed around landscapes and others around flowers, accessible only to nobles and dignitaries;
The third-floor viewing platform contained only one banquet hall for the entire floor. Standing there, one could almost overlook the whole capital and even gaze toward the imperial site for sacrifices to Heaven, carrying the lofty air of a ruler looking down upon the world.
This was no ordinary restaurant. The imperial family had not brought down the hammer on it for two reasons. First, there was a need for it—certain important figures of the martial world had to be received with the utmost ceremony. Second, Heavenly Pavilion belonged to the imperial family to begin with. Otherwise, its outrageously overbearing height alone would have gotten it torn down long ago.
Xiang Yuan stood on the viewing platform, overlooking the prosperity of the capital. It was not yet curfew; lights and streams of people flowed into the distance, the city's quadrants laid out in neat order, wholly worthy of its name as the royal capital.
His throat was a little itchy. The mood felt right—time to compose a poem and give vent to the heroic spirit in his chest.
Which one should he copy?
A lyric would work too. Not picky.
Steady refused to plagiarize. Doubi had no such concerns. They had already crossed into another world, and now he was not even allowed to copy a poem? That was no