"Command a hundred thousand cavalry and ride south to Yangzhou with beauties in tow!" Song Qingshu said with flying brows. "A fine poem—nice and wet!"
Seeing his smug expression, all the women in the room wore strange looks. Ajiu finally could not hold it in and burst out laughing.
Song Qingshu's face darkened slightly. "What's wrong with it?"
Ajiu covered her mouth as she smiled. "Song Lang may be a heaven-blessed genius, but his poetry is rather ordinary." Born into royalty, she had been taught from childhood by the nation's most learned scholars and Hanlin academicians, so she naturally knew good from bad.
Zhao Min beside her added with a smile, "Not merely ordinary. It also sounds suspiciously like boasting."
Song Qingshu grew angry. "How was I boasting?" At the same time, he sighed inwardly. Other transmigrators all dazzled everyone by showing off with Tang poems and Song lyrics, yet he was stuck in such an awkward situation. What else could he do? The era he had transmigrated into was all wrong. Those famous poems from history had already been written, and even Nalan Xingde, the Qing Dynasty's most renowned poet, was still alive. There was nowhere for him to plagiarize from. After finally managing to write a couple of lines himself, he was mocked by several of his beloved women. It was like he'd fucked a husky.
"Even if you scrape together every soldier you have, you would be lucky to field five thousand cavalrymen, much less a hundred thousand." Zhao Min's eyes curved like crescents as she smiled. "Come visit Prince Ruyang's Mansion sometime, and I'll let you witness the might of a hundred thousand cavalry."
"You people are nitpicking words like pedantic scholars. What matters most in poetry is its grandeur and artistic conception. Forget it, you