Chapter 26: Raking in Cash with Nothing but a Pitch

"Sir, does Ye Wuji always behave like this, showing no respect for decorum?" the elderly Dean Liu Hanqing whispered, leaning toward Wang Yuanhui.

"He was born with a destiny of great wealth, yet he chooses to lie flat and live exactly as he pleases," Wang Yuanhui replied with a smile, glancing meaningfully at Shen Wanshan. "What do you think, Master Shen?"

"..."

Shen Wanshan felt a sudden sense of shame. After an awkward silence, he forced a smile and said, "Professor Wang is... absolutely right, absolutely right!"

The afternoon itinerary was simple: a tour of Linggu Temple. They would visit whichever sections were in need of repair. It was a classic case of using a verbal presentation to solicit funds. The temple had three gates, known as the "Three Gates of Liberation": the Gate of Emptiness, the Gate of Formlessness, and the Gate of Inaction.

Near the Gate of Inaction lay a vast open space. To raise money, the monk Master Yangong claimed they intended to build a beamless hall there. Beyond enshrining the Buddha of Infinite Life, it would also serve to pray for all the heroes who had fallen in the war against the Japanese invaders. Furthermore, every donor’s name would be engraved on the bricks of the hall, to be revered by future generations.

Soliciting funds in this manner required not just a presentation, but an appeal to national righteousness and tangible benefits for the donors. Master Yangong certainly had a firm grasp of human nature.

The wealthy merchant who had previously clashed with Ye Wuji was surnamed Qian and possessed a rather clichéd name: Qian Gui (Money Chest).

"Gentlemen, I have a proposal," Qian Gui said, eyeing Ye Wuji coldly before scanning the crowd. "As the saying goes, 'poor scholars and wealthy licentiates'; since scholars are inherently impoverished, let us spare them the burden of donating. Instead, let the scholars present here compose poems, and we merchants shall determine the donation amount based on the quality of their work. What does everyone think?"

Qian Gui’s proposal was met with approval from all the wealthy merchants, and even the scholars in attendance began to prepare themselves. This was an excellent opportunity to make a name for themselves. Some even cast hopeful glances toward Shen Wanshan; if they could earn his favor, their fame would surely spread throughout Jinling.

Ye Wuji instinctively pulled Li Weishan along, and the two quietly moved to the back row.

*Now you know fear?* Qian Gui scoffed inwardly. *Too late! Watch how I drag your reputations through the mud!*

Master Yangong realized that Qian Gui was targeting Ye Wuji and was more than happy to let it happen. The theme of the poetry gathering was "Discussing Heroes Over Boiled Wine," so the poems had to center on that topic. The scholars pulled out all the stops, showcasing their best skills. In the blink of an eye, over a dozen scholars had produced excellent verses. The wealthy merchants, not being stingy, each announced their prices.

Predictably, the offers were not particularly high, nor were they enough to pique Shen Wanshan's interest. Wang Yuanhui and Liu Hanqing’s comments were mostly limited to "not bad" or "shows potential." It was clear that the scholars' work was merely competent, far from being high-quality art.

Finally, only Ye Wuji remained.

Qian Gui sneered, "Scholar Ye, it is your turn, you and your servant."

The onlookers, eager for a show, joined in the heckling, demanding they recite a poem.

"Can you do it?" Ye Wuji asked Li Weishan.

"I believe so. My father taught me before he passed," Li Weishan replied with his head held high.

"Then you go first."

"Respected teachers, I am but a small page, shallow in learning, but I hope you will offer your guidance," Li Weishan said, bowing slightly before speaking slowly: "Scorning the ministers of Wu as mere children, he crossed the river alone, daring to defy them all. That heroic spirit of yesteryear, even surpasses Xiang Ru at Mianchi!"

The air went silent. Qian Gui’s face turned livid as he glared at Li Weishan. "Insolent! Are you mocking us as if there are no talented men in Jiangnan?"

The others were also filled with righteous indignation, scolding Li Weishan. The poem was not particularly rhythmic, nor was it a masterpiece, but it was grounded in historical fact. It referred to General Guan Yu crossing the river alone, rebuking the "rats of the East." Jinling, formerly known as Jianye, had been the capital of the Wu Kingdom. Li Weishan was essentially cursing everyone present who looked down on Ye Wuji, venting his master's frustration.

Shen Wanshan pursed his lips and then burst into laughter. It was indeed Ye Wuji’s style; the man never let himself suffer a loss.

Wang Yuanhui and Liu Hanqing looked into the distance, as if this matter had nothing to do with them.

"An epidemic, the likes of which occur once every few decades, broke out in Zhoushan. Magistrate Li Erlang stood at the forefront, always in the line of fire to eradicate the plague. The epidemic was wiped out, but Li Erlang sacrificed his life for the nation. Do you feel you are qualified to stand here and berate his young son?"

Facing the aggressive crowd, Ye Wuji laughed loudly. "A poem by a child has made you all so angry—doesn't that just prove his poem resonated with the truth? To be fair, which of your own poems can claim the same? And you, the licentiates, masters, and professors—if you were to compose a poem on the spot, would it be any better than his?"

Ye Wuji unleashed a barrage of criticism. "Qian, so what if you have money? Are you as rich as Shen Wanshan? Even Shen Wanshan has not insulted the pages present here. What kind of person are you to dare lecture the descendant of a hero?"

The scene fell into a deathly silence.

Yet Qian Gui was not ready to give up. He scoffed, "With so many licentiates, deans, and professors here, how does a mere scholar like you get the right to judge everyone? If you have the ability, compose a poem yourself. It might turn out to be even worse than your servant's."

In the past, Ye Wuji would have already greased his heels and fled. Given the current atmosphere, even if he produced a decent piece, someone would surely pick it apart just to find fault. He had no desire to be ridiculed or become the subject of gossip. But today was different; his "great son" had provided him with two poems to hold in reserve. If he wanted to make a name for himself, today was the perfect time, and he could not let Ye Xiu’s expectations go to waste.

Ye Wuji gave Li Weishan an encouraging look: *Let’s do this!*

Li Weishan understood instantly. "My uncle is a man of vast learning and talent. Forget composing a poem on the spot—even composing one within seven steps is well within his reach. But are you even worthy of hearing it?"

"Seven steps?" Qian Gui laughed heartily. "I think you’re just making excuses because you can't write a poem."

Ye Wuji stood with his hands behind his back, exuding confidence. "And what if I do?"

"If you do..." Qian Gui started, but his words cut off abruptly. He realized that Ye Wuji wasn't speaking to him, but to Shen Wanshan.

Shen Wanshan looked at Ye Wuji with a complex expression. After a moment of thought, he spoke with a stern face, "If Professor Wang, Dean Liu, and the scholars present all give their approval, I will sever all business ties with the Qian family."

"Master Shen, this..." Qian Gui’s head drooped, looking pitifully at Shen Wanshan. "Master Shen, this matter... how did it end up involving me?"

"If he fails to write the poem, the Jinling Academy will naturally punish him. But if he succeeds, you must pay the price for your mistake. Is that not fair?" Shen Wanshan’s expression darkened. "Master Qian, you were the one who started this. You can't expect to have it all your own way, can you?"