"Westward the river bends and bends again; / Startled, I find this foreign land's strange scene. / A cluster of homes becomes a county town; / No walls on three sides, yet it leans on hills. / Sails linger beyond the maple leaves; / Shoal waters murmur amid the pounding mills. / Rain capes and misty hats—Yanling draws near; / Ashamed, clear streams reflect the traveler's face... Fine poem, fine poem. This poem could remain on the Hall of Eminent Scholars' poetry list for at least a year. I hear its author is a talented man surnamed Xu from New Paulownia City. Not bad, not bad..."
"And there's this one. I think this poem has even more artistic depth: / Wild winds greet the white-robed monk; / With every step, he reaches the stream ahead. / The setting sun sinks into flowing waters; / Distant hills are green, unevenly so. / Chilled flowers droop as they please; / Weary birds cry now and then. / Where does the smoke of tea arise? / A fishing boat is moored west of the bamboo..."
"Brother Ou, I beg to differ. If this poem appeared in a country tavern or the dwelling of a hermit deep in the mountains, it would certainly be called stunning. But for such an artistic realm to appear here in the Hall of Eminent Scholars, the poet seems rather too eager to show off. Moreover, his appearance and heart do not match. What he truly seeks may not possess the poem's quiet elegance of standing apart from worldly strife. The Hall ballot in my hand will absolutely not be cast for this poem to help it make the rankings..."
"Brother Li speaks reasonably, most reasonably..."
It was afternoon. After spending the entire morning wandering through Great Tang City,