The Poet-Addict Old Man's words rang out with the weight of stone. Most of Ganzhou's scholars nodded slightly, shame on their faces. Zhang Wankong might have been shrouded in suspicion, but Zhang Longxiang truly showed no inclination toward the rebel species. If even the Poet-Addict Old Man said so, they ought to reflect deeply on themselves.
Some men of the Deer Gate Army lowered their heads slightly, but several generals ground their teeth. They had never expected even the renowned Poet-Addict Old Man to help the Pearl River Marquis.
Wei Changxian was secretly alarmed. Those two lines, "Though my station is low, I dare not forget concern for my country; only when the coffin closes can the verdict be settled," were far too extraordinary. Once this poem truly became nation-quelling, scholars would inevitably be influenced and come to believe that Zhang Longxiang might not belong to the rebel species.
The poetry of the human race had always possessed power.
Wei Changxian's brows knotted as he racked his brains for a way to strike back.
The Poet-Addict Old Man continued, "The third couplet reads, 'May Heaven, Earth, and all the sages uphold the state; the capital's elders await the imperial carriage bells.' Among the charioteering skills in the six arts of the gentleman is 'Ringing Bells and Luan.' The characters for these carriage bells are interchangeable, and they refer to driving a carriage, or even to the sovereign personally leading an expedition. The people of Jingzhou City hope that all the sages will protect their land and state, and that the King of Chu will recover the lost territory."
"The final couplet, 'One memorial on the expedition links ancient times and now; at midnight I trim the lamp and read it closer still,' turns the brush, bringing us back from the