When Prince Jing's heir held poetry gatherings, he preferred to mingle with the crowd and enjoy himself alongside everyone else. He never deliberately arranged a seat at the head of the hall.
Today, that seat had been reserved for Prince Cheng!
Some of the scholars finally had their questions answered, while many others could no longer contain themselves and surged toward the doors to welcome him.
Even Prince Jing's heir had personally confirmed that He Zongwei had "soared to the heavens in a single step" thanks to Prince Cheng's favor. What had they spent all those years studying for? Who would pass up such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?
Even if most of them knew their talents fell far short of He Zongwei's, what if His Highness happened to take a liking to them?
With all sorts of thoughts running through their heads, they hurried forward, frantically straightening their clothes and smoothing their sleeves. Their expressions were eager yet tense, as though facing a major examination.
Zhou Cheng wore an ivory brocade robe woven with subtle silver patterns. A single lustrous white jade pendant hung at his waist, luxurious yet understated.
Beside him, Sang Wen wore a pale mauve dress with delicate trailing lotus embroidery along its hem, covered by a layer of sheer silk. A green jade hairpin and two small pearl ornaments adorned her bun. Her adornments were simple, but her bearing was serene, with a faint air of nobility.
Seeing a crowd approach with eager smiles plastered across their faces, Zhou Cheng felt a little surprised.
He did not remember being so popular among the scholars.
Still, he showed no sign of it and simply followed Li Hongcheng into the hall.
The hall was much emptier now, with only a handful of people remaining inside. His gaze swept casually across them before settling on Guo Baokun, who was trying to hide behind someone else.
The instant that gaze brushed over him, Guo Baokun froze like a mouse confronted by a cat.
He knew there was no escaping it. Though his legs trembled and his heart pounded, he forced himself forward and spoke in a quavering voice. "G-greetings, Your Highness."
The corners of Zhou Cheng's mouth lifted into what could almost be called a friendly smile. "Young Master Guo, you spoke up so courageously for justice and showed such a keen understanding of the greater good. Have your injuries improved?"
Guo Baokun shuddered and instinctively pressed his legs together.
He desperately wanted to fall to his knees and explain that he was merely "too outspoken," not the one with a "keen understanding of the greater good." But he forced himself to hold back and hurriedly replied, "Th-thank you for your concern, Your Highness. I-it's nothing serious anymore."
Those who knew nothing of the incident looked puzzled, while those in the know covered their mouths and chuckled, their expressions suggestive.
Zhou Cheng gave a slight nod. Hearing notifications worth only a few dozen points, he lost interest in bothering with this useless fool.
Li Hongcheng signaled to an attendant, then led him to the seat of honor. The attendant stepped out from the side and quietly set down a fruit platter and fragrant tea.
Zhou Cheng sat down with easy composure. Looking over the scholars whose eyes gleamed with eagerness, he merely waved a hand. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I'm only here to join in the fun and see the talents of our Qing. There's no need to stand on ceremony. Just pretend I'm not here."
Once Zhou Cheng finished speaking, Sang Wen knelt beside him at his gesture.
Sang Wen did not know that Zhou Cheng intended to cultivate her poise.
She had not wanted to come to a gathering of scholars, fearing that her background would invite criticism. But before they left, Zhou Cheng had told her, "Anyone who dares criticize you in front of me isn't looking down on you. They're looking down on me. Remember, you will be a secondary consort of Prince Cheng's Residence. You are no longer a performer from the Glazed Crystal River."
His words had given her tremendous reassurance.
Now, as she settled into her place and faced the open and furtive scrutiny around her, she no longer shied away. She met their gazes calmly, a measure of steady dignity naturally emerging in her manner.
Zhou Cheng's effortless composure and commanding presence, paired with the beautiful, graceful woman beside him, stirred quiet admiration in many of the young scholars. They felt that Prince Cheng was nothing like the rumors described.
Barely had Zhou Cheng taken his seat when one bold scholar stepped forward, bowed, and asked, "Your Highness, today's poetry gathering is an elegant occasion for us to display our learning and make friends through verse. His Lordship mentioned that the great scholar He won your favor and was recommended for entry into the palace. Might those of us whose poems prove outstanding enjoy the same honor?"
A faintly peculiar expression crossed Zhou Cheng's face. Only now did he understand why his arrival had been greeted with such enthusiasm.
He nearly laughed inwardly, but his expression remained composed. "To think the scholars of Qing possess such dedication! Excellent. If that is your wish, there's no need to wait for the poetry contest to conclude. Simply ask Hongcheng for a place!"
At those words, every gaze swung toward Li Hongcheng.
Li Hongcheng looked slightly embarrassed. He had not expected anyone to dare question Zhou Cheng, nor had he expected Zhou Cheng to turn the matter back on him.
Thinking quickly, he cupped his hands toward Zhou Cheng and the others in apology. "You've misunderstood. It's my fault for failing to explain clearly earlier. Scholar He's entry into the palace is not what you imagine.
"The great scholar He is so fiercely loyal that he insisted on being castrated to enter the inner court, seeking only to bask in His Majesty's presence and serve him faithfully. Even if you gentlemen wish to serve the nation, there is no need to follow that particular path."
As Li Hongcheng finished, the hall fell utterly silent.
The scholar who had made the request gaped, his face filled with disbelief.
A recommendation to enter the palace-so that was what "recommendation" meant!
He had mustered the greatest courage of his life, only to ask for this kind of honor!
The bold scholar wished he could faint on the spot. In an instant, everyone's attitude toward Zhou Cheng swung from one extreme to the other.
Their delight vanished, replaced by sudden fear!
Their earlier eagerness seemed like an illusion. Now, no one dared look Zhou Cheng in the eye, terrified that he might "take a liking" to them too and send them straight into the palace to keep the great scholar He company.
Amid the deathly silence, footsteps sounded outside. Fan Xian and Fan Ruoruo entered side by side.
As soon as they stepped inside, the gazes in the hall swiftly converged on them, as though they had found an outlet.
The siblings exchanged a quiet glance. Bewildered, they both sensed that something was strange about the atmosphere.
Fan Xian swept his gaze over the crowd and nodded slightly to Li Hongcheng before looking toward Zhou Cheng.
Fan Xian and Fan Ruoruo advanced a few steps, first paying their respects to Zhou Cheng, then offering a cupped-hand greeting to everyone else.
"Isn't this a poetry gathering? Shouldn't everyone be reciting verses, exchanging poems, and composing? Why is it so quiet?"
Fan Xian had come intending to test Zhou Cheng. Though he did not understand the strange situation, he spoke up to break the awkward silence.
His prompting eased the stagnant atmosphere a little.
The scholars all laughed stiffly and gathered in twos and threes to chat. Yet as they moved, they instinctively kept away from the seat of honor, leaving a wide, empty space before Zhou Cheng.
Unaware of what had happened, Fan Xian assumed they were simply awed by imperial dignity.
Seeing his target arrive, Guo Baokun was about to rally himself and step forward to provoke him. But Fan Xian took the initiative, moving through the crowd to stand before Zhou Cheng's table.
The hall fell quiet again.
Fan Xian cupped his hands and bowed to Zhou Cheng once more. "Forgive my presumption, Your Highness. I'm merely a commoner from a remote country town, with little talent or learning. I enjoy poetry, but have achieved nothing of note.
"However, I happened to come across a few fragments of verse in the remnants of an old book. I've never understood them, nor do I know how to complete them. With so many gifted scholars gathered here today, I venture to ask for guidance. I hope Your Highness and these gentlemen might enlighten me."
Zhou Cheng nodded calmly. "I'm only here to watch the fun, and I'm no expert in poetry either. But with so many scholars present, feel free to ask your questions, Young Master Fan."
After another bow, Fan Xian straightened and cleared his throat.
"The first line..." His gaze traveled around the hall before finally settling on Zhou Cheng's face.
"Odd changes, even stays the same."
Fan Xian stared intently at Zhou Cheng, trying to catch every minute shift in his expression.
If Zhou Cheng really was a "fellow traveler," then no matter how deeply he concealed his feelings, hearing that line for the first time would provoke an instinctive reaction.
But what followed disappointed him.
Zhou Cheng merely frowned slightly, seemingly pondering the meaning. His expression remained unchanged, without a ripple of emotion. Even his pupils neither contracted nor dilated.
[Negative emotions from Fan Xian +555!]
Hearing the notification ring in his ears, Zhou Cheng's interest stirred, and he silently marveled.
As expected of the protagonist. Even mere disappointment can produce a number like that!
Fan Xian watched Zhou Cheng's reaction, his heart sinking as disappointment spread through him.
He had recently reached the eighth rank. With an eighth-rank martial artist's powers of observation, he was certain that Zhou Cheng had shown no reaction different from anyone else's.
Maintaining his smile with difficulty, he turned to the others, only to find them exchanging bewildered looks.
"How can that count as poetry? It makes no sense, and the words have no connection! Young Master Fan, did you read this in some fabricated book and bring it here just to make fools of us and His Highness?"
Guo Baokun seized the opportunity to jump out again, his voice and expression stern. As he spoke, he stole glances at Zhou Cheng's face.
He looked exactly like a weasel about to steal a chicken.
Ordinarily, Fan Xian would certainly have mocked Guo Baokun for looking like that. Right now, however, he was in no mood.
His expression dimmed as he raised his voice. "Do none of you gentlemen know it either?"
Aside from Guo Baokun, who continued to bluster, everyone remained silent.
Helpless, Fan Xian turned to Zhou Cheng and recited the second line.
"Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron."
Worried that Zhou Cheng had not heard him clearly, he repeated it. Yet Zhou Cheng remained calm, as though considering an ordinary question.
Could these mnemonics be too obscure? That shouldn't be possible... Anyone who went through nine years of compulsory education should know them.
Fan Xian's thoughts churned. Inside his sleeve, his hand clenched and unclenched.
Could Prince Cheng have been illiterate before transmigrating? But that shouldn't be possible...
Their discussion yielded nothing, and impatience began to show in the scholars' eyes. After all, neither line possessed the slightest poetic quality or structure. They had nothing to do with poetry at all.
"There's a third line!"
Fan Xian abruptly raised his hand and, clinging to one last hope, recited loudly.
"Before my bed, the moonlight shines!"
This time, the crowd reacted enthusiastically, with mocking laughter and snickers sounding all around. But Zhou Cheng merely looked slightly surprised. It still was not the reaction Fan Xian wanted.
His fist clenched abruptly. His chest felt stifled, and he was overcome by a hollow sense of loss.
Guo Baokun's eyes shifted. He burst into laughter, drawing everyone's attention, then bounded into the center of the hall and pointed at Fan Xian, rebuking him harshly. "The first two lines are utter nonsense, and the last is fit only for a child's primer! Fan Xian, you're clearly here to disrupt the gathering, disgrace this poetry meeting, and make fools of its scholars!"
Fan Xian gave Guo Baokun a dispirited look. He wanted to find somewhere to sit and settle his emotions, not get entangled with him.
But Guo Baokun refused to let it go and blocked his way.
Fan Xian grew even more irritated.
Then Guo Baokun grabbed his sleeve.
"His Highness is magnanimous enough to overlook your disruption of this hall, but I cannot stand idly by!
"I challenge you, Fan Xian, to a one-on-one contest! A wager on our poetry!
"Whoever loses must kowtow and apologize to the winner, and never compose poetry again for the rest of his life. With His Highness here today, he can serve as our witness. Fan Xian, do you dare accept?"
Fan Xian closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, then opened them again.
"Young Master Guo, getting slapped on one side of your face yesterday wasn't enough? Since you're asking for more today, I'll oblige you. I, Fan Xian, accept your wager!"
Chapter 15: First in Seven-Character Regulated Verse
With an eyebrow raised, Fan Xian finished asking Guo Baokun about the rules of the poetry contest.
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