"Did Fang Yue really write that poem?"
"Impossible. Absolutely impossible!"
"How could a crude martial brute like him possibly write poetry?"
After returning home that day, Liu Chuanzhi had searched through every book in the old residence, yet failed to find those lines of poetry he had heard. Thus, he wrote to Wen Donglou, the headmaster of Xiahe County Academy.
Wen Donglou was a renowned great scholar, famous even throughout Shanyang Prefecture.
He was exceptionally learned, and in his early years had traveled across Great Wei's two capitals and thirteen provinces, with experiences and knowledge far beyond ordinary people.
The lines Widow Yu had recited were the sort that could be regarded as timeless masterpieces. If they had been written by an ancient, then Wen Donglou, headmaster of the academy, would surely know of them.
Yet today, the headmaster's reply gave Liu Chuanzhi quite a shock.
Wen Donglou did not know where the poem came from either. After investigating, he stated with certainty that it had been written by someone of the present day. He even asked who the poet was, saying that he wished to pay a personal visit.
After reading the letter, Liu Chuanzhi felt awful all over.
Wen Donglou wanted to pay a personal visit—but visit whom?
Visit Fang Yue, that mud-legged peasant from Daliushu Village?
Thinking of Fang Yue, Liu Chuanzhi could not help recalling that Fang Yue had now become a Martial Scholar, his achievements surpassing Liu Chuanzhi's own.
Moreover, a Martial Scholar held a higher status than a Civil Scholar and, in some respects, was no less distinguished than an Imperial Martial Candidate.
Even Liu Chuanzhi's father had repeatedly told him to maintain good relations with the Fang Family and resolve that small misunderstanding from before.
He had even sent the Fang Family generous