A quiet woman stood by the side of the boat, gazing ahead as she softly recited, "The river is a green silk ribbon; the mountains, jade-green hairpins."
Those who had come were indeed quite learned and fond of poetry. Hearing the verse the woman had recited, they all turned their eyes toward her, their attention shifting to her as though nothing had happened just moments ago.
A handsome young gentleman beside her smiled and recited, "Willows green, river level; beauties and talented men roam upon the river."
A refined young man looked toward the distant mountains with a faint smile and followed with, "One never tires of gazing at green hills; how endlessly charming is flowing water."
A woman in a palace dress seated by the boat's side rested her chin on her hand, watching the river with a trace of melancholy as she softly recited, "Flowers fade easily, like my lord's affections; water flows without end, like my sorrow."
With someone having taken the lead, the others also turned their eyes toward the beautiful river scenery, pondering verses and softly reciting them one after another.
Zhao Fu felt that he had come to the wrong place. Among this group of gifted scholars trading poems and couplets, he was an oddity. He did not understand poetry very well at all; asking him to compose a poem was simply impossible.
Still, Zhao Fu listened from the side and discovered that these people did possess quite a bit of literary talent.
"Is Young Master feeling somewhat out of place?" Nalan Ruo asked with a faint smile as she looked at Zhao Fu, who seemed thoroughly out of step with the others.
She could see that Zhao Fu did not possess the slightest air of a scholar. He was likely a military general