"Poetry?"
Zheng Wudi leaned back tactically.
His crossed eyes shifted as he sized Li Ping'an up.
Jing Yu boasted, "This friend of mine has quite a gift for poetry."
Zheng Wudi said, "Might we hear some?"
Jing Yu whispered to Li Ping'an, "It's all on you, brother!"
Li Ping'an considered for a moment, then said, "I'd better write it down."
He drew the Knight-Errant Brush from his waist.
A sudden gleam flashed through Zheng Wudi's crossed eyes. "Uh... is that the Academy Head's Knight-Errant Brush?"
Li Ping'an nodded. "It is."
Zheng Wudi's mouth hung open. "I... this..."
"Old Ox, grind the ink!"
Holding the Knight-Errant Brush with a grip as firm as metal and stone, Li Ping'an wrote on the paper, stroke by stroke.
Between each stroke, there was a rhythm-like cadence.
Rising and falling, like drifting clouds and flowing water.
In Li Ping'an's hand, the Knight-Errant Brush obeyed as readily as his own fingers.
He finished it in a single breath!!
Zheng Wudi leaned over to look.
Every stroke carried an ancient charm, between the lifts, presses, pauses, and turns.
They fully displayed his profound mastery and the intent contained within his brushwork.
Free-spirited yet utterly unrestrained, archaic yet elegant.
"Beautiful calligraphy!"
Zheng Wudi could not help exclaiming.
"You flatter me."
Only after a long while did Zheng Wudi emerge from his absorption in the calligraphy.
Turning his attention to the poem, he read it word by word:
"When life grants triumph, drink your fill of joy; let not your golden cup face the moon empty.
Heaven gave me talents that must find their use; a thousand gold pieces scattered will return."
Zheng Wudi sucked in a sharp breath. Hiss~
His crossed eyes straightened instantly, and he raised his head to look Li Ping'an squarely in the eye.
Li