"What a fine poem!"
Before the thunder of the drum rang out, the others had already gathered around to watch. Su Ziji's brush moved as though guided by divine inspiration, line after line flowing swiftly onto the paper. When he finished the last stroke, they all cheered.
Everyone lavished praise on it. To turn a poem of praise and tribute into something like this was truly remarkable. Even ordinary scholars of the Hanlin Academy could not match such skill.
Luo Pei's eyes stung as well. He hastily suppressed the feeling before tears could fall, gazing wistfully at the wine in his cup and merely nodding.
He had followed Prince Shu for so long and done so much for him, only to be discarded like a worn-out shoe. Prince Dai, however, had remained steadfast throughout.
For a subject, choosing a lord to serve was no different from a woman choosing a husband. It was almost a second birth. Choose an enlightened lord, and ruler and subject would suit each other; not only could they create a fine tale celebrated for years to come, but both could prosper. Choose the wrong lord, though, and encounter a scoundrel, and it truly left one's heart cold and spirit turned to ash.
Luo Pei was no blindly loyal fool. When Prince Shu treated him as a peerless statesman, he repaid him as one. Since Prince Shu had cast him aside without a thought, he could naturally abandon Prince Shu in turn.
Su Ziji relaxed his hand and tossed down the brush, smiling. "Passable, I suppose?"
He had read the occasional poems composed by Hanlin scholars of the Ming and Qing dynasties in response to imperial commands. This poem was probably a little better than theirs, approaching first-rate quality. Naturally, that made it merely passable.
In