Murong Feiyan said, "If you really can compose a masterpiece that will ring through the ages, I'll gladly hold an umbrella for you. But with your abilities..." Convinced Hu Xiaotian had no such talent, she shook her head with a show of disdain.
Hu Xiaotian really did lack that sort of talent, but Han Yu had it! Hu Xiaotian had been a top student since childhood and knew his Tang Poetry, Song Lyrics, and Yuan Drama backward and forward. Even if Li Bai returned from the dead, he could hardly rival Hu Xiaotian's talent. This was called drawing on the strengths of many masters. All the world's writing was one great exercise in copying; Hu Xiaotian merely had to fit the right poem to the right occasion. That was his entire creative process.
The fellow strolled along the road, its bluestone slabs washed clean, and softly recited, "A fine rain moistens Heavenly Street like cream..."
Murong Feiyan could not help laughing. Even the finest line could not withstand this much repetition. There was nothing affected about her laughter, which revealed a mouthful of gleaming white teeth. Her bright eyes and pearly teeth were quite captivating. In an age when women were expected to laugh without showing their teeth, someone who laughed as freely as Murong Feiyan was rare indeed. Hu Xiaotian stared, spellbound by her beauty, as radiant as a flower.
Seeing his lustful gaze, Murong Feiyan felt her pretty face grow warm. Lowering her long, dark lashes, she said softly, "Still that same line? If you really can't think of anything, just forget it. Don't strain yourself..." At that, she could not help laughing again.
Hu Xiaotian said, "My belly is packed so full of talent it's practically spilling over. Listen: A fine rain moistens Heavenly Street like cream;