Composing Poetry in the Pavilion, Words Falling Like Clouds and Smoke!

Su Yun furrowed his brows lightly. She knew full well that at a poetry gathering, while the beauty of the poems mattered greatly, the standing of the person who put brush to paper could not be overlooked either.

The poems composed today would all be hung at West Phoenix Pavilion tomorrow, for anyone to read, circulate, and copy.

This was the first edition, containing the spiritual charm of an "opening poem." Even if masters copied it afterward, they might still find it hard to attain the same height.

Living characters were just like this; once they were reflected onto paper tomorrow, more than half their spiritual vitality would likely be lost.

For poetry to be passed down through the ages, it was not merely the poet's achievement—it also required the person wielding the brush to complement it. If someone asked who had recorded the works of the three of them today, and the answer was some obscure young master of the Xie Clan, would that not invite ridicule?

Though it would be difficult to obtain the hand of a great calligrapher, someone like the Second Gentleman, whose every character was worth a thousand gold, could make even slightly muddled poems cause a sensation throughout Bianjing tomorrow through his calligraphy alone.

Even if they were not great calligraphers, anyone with a little reputation in this regard would be enough. Su Yun usually kept several such cultured retainers skilled in the art by her side, but she had not brought them to Xie Manor today.

Now, Shuwan and Master Hu were here!

A mere illegitimate son of the Xie Clan naturally could not be used.

Today was the first gathering among the core members of the Thatched Cottage Poetry Society. Since Li Shuwan had repeatedly failed to attend due to trivial matters