Chapter 54: Clouds Remind Him of Her Garments, and Flowers of Her Face

"Master Ye, might we trouble you to grace us with your talents?" Abbot Yandeng asked, his eyes filled with anticipation.

The surrounding scholars also cast burning gazes upon him. Ye Wuji felt a jolt in his heart; it seemed he had no choice but to show off a little.

Slowly rising to his feet, he walked over to Dong Rushi and looked her up and down.

"Ah, I have it. Let Ye offer a ci poem."

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him, and Ye Wuji recited with profound emotion:

"Clouds recall her robes, and flowers her face,
Spring breezes brush the balustrade, where heavy dew leaves traces."

"Could this be... could this be a *Qingping Diao*?"

In an instant, the grand hall fell into absolute silence. Everyone sat rigidly upright, terrified of disturbing Ye Wuji's creative flow.

Since ancient times, literary masters had created many musical tune patterns, of which *Qingping Diao* was undoubtedly the most difficult.

Derived from the *Qingping Ci* of the Han Bureau of Music, it was divided into clear tunes, level tunes, and side tunes.

Restricted to twenty-eight characters, writing it down was not hard at all.

The true difficulty lay in the fact that once written, not only must it contain four lines with three level rhymes, but it also had to conform to the ancient musical rhythms of the Bureau of Music.

Throughout successive dynasties, unless blessed with supreme genius, scholars were reluctant to touch *Qingping Diao*, fearing that a lifetime's reputation would be ruined in a single moment.

To rescue the literary world, the founding emperor of the Great Qian had directly issued an imperial decree reducing the three variants to just two.

Even so, those scholars who boasted of vast reading and profound learning had failed to write a single stunning *Qingping Ci*.

Now, Jinling's foremost talent, Ye Wuji, had revived the *Qingping Ci*, instantly making the atmosphere of the poetry gathering solemn and weighty.

Abbot Yandeng was so nervous that the palms of his hands were slick with cold sweat. He stared fixedly at Ye Wuji, continuously praying in his heart:

*Please don't mess this up, please don't mess this up... If he fails here, the literary world of the Great Qian is truly beyond saving!*

The first two lines were breathtakingly exquisite, and the audience silently tried to compose the matching lines in their minds.

Yet, despite racking their brains and searching the depths of their memory, they simply could not find words to follow the opening lines.

This was the absolute gap between ordinary mortals and a true genius.

Dong Rushi had also paused her movements, fine beads of fragrant sweat blooming on her forehead, while her pretty face was a picture of nervous anticipation.

Even on the second floor, the doors of the private rooms were thrown open, and every eye turned toward Ye Wuji standing before the stage.

In Shen Wanshan's eyes, waves of fiery excitement erupted—some of it was admiration for Ye Wuji, but much more was self-congratulation: *Thank goodness I didn't break off the engagement!*

Picking up a flagon of wine, Ye Wuji took a large, gulping swig and strode toward the wall.

Li Weishan hurriedly followed to grind the ink for him and selected a brush suited for wild cursive script.

Everyone's hearts instantly leapt to their throats: Was he going to compose directly on the wall? Could it be that he had thought of the final two lines?

They watched as Ye Wuji brandished his brush with flying speed, capturing the entire poem in a flurry of wild cursive.

As they laid eyes on the final two lines, everyone drew a sharp intake of breath:

"If not seen at the peak of Mount Qunyu,
Where else beneath the moon at the Jade Terrace would we meet?"

***

Laying down his brush, Ye Wuji drained the remaining wine from the flagon.

He swayed slightly as he took a few steps back, his burning gaze fixed upon the wall.

For a long time, the hall remained wrapped in silence, with not a single person clapping or cheering.

They stood with dazed expressions, staring at the calligraphy on the wall, each lost in their own turbulent thoughts.

Never had they imagined that a *Qingping Diao* could be written with such refined structure and wondrous grace.

Words like the Jasper Pool and celestial maidens were terms they usually dared not employ.

To praise someone had now been elevated to a dimension entirely beyond ordinary mortals.

Yet, upon repeated recitation, one would realize that the words Ye Wuji used were merely common, unpretentious expressions.

Without a single vulgar or cliché-ridden term, he had conjured the image of a beauty possessing an ethereal grace surpassing even that of immortals.

Every single person present felt utterly humbled and inferior.

Ye Wuji was not merely the foremost talent of Jinling; he was the undisputed, peerless talent of the entire Great Qian.

On the second floor, Wang Xingzhai and the others wore expressions of utmost reverence.

"Wanshan, you truly are blessed with magnificent fortune."

Wang Xingzhai stroked his beard. "We must give this another proper push. Don't restrict the verses within the borders of Jinling—let it spread across the entire Jiangnan region, and indeed, throughout the whole of Great Qian."

"Your instruction is deeply engraved in my heart, Elder."

Unbeknownst to anyone, crystal tears welled in the corners of Dong Rushi's eyes on the stage.

These women known as "pure entertainers" were, in truth, merely pitiful creatures trapped in the world of wind and moon.

In the bloom of their youth, their beauty was at its height.

Had circumstances not forced their hands, who would willingly submit to the brothels?

Which of them did not yearn for a husband whose voice they could echo, and who did not dream of flying wing to wing with a devoted love?

This was a scholar—no...

This was a great Confucian scholar, bestowing upon her, and upon every single entertainer under heaven, the utmost dignity!

He was using the warmest, most benevolent kindness to encourage them to live out a brilliance that belonged uniquely to themselves.

Magnificent!

Abbot Yandeng, sensing that the atmosphere had reached its peak, was the first to stand and applaud enthusiastically.

All the rest rose to their feet as well, bursting into a wave of thunderous applause.

On the stage, Dong Rushi gently dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she began to play a soothing melody, helping everyone calm their stirred emotions.

***

For the remainder of the poetry gathering, the mood became remarkably modest and restrained.

There was no petty showing off, nor any mutual flattery among merchants and scholars.

Because in front of Ye Wuji, they were forever mere fighters with a power level of five!

Many secretly swore in their hearts that they must frequently visit this tavern in the future to contemplate the artistic conception of this poem, hoping it might bring some measure of enlightenment to their own minds.

Only Ye Xiu looked upon this scene and shook his head with helpless amusement: *My dear old dad, you are truly using a butcher's cleaver to slaughter a chicken. Although Uncle Gua Sha can easily crush this era, the things I can remember from my past life are ultimately limited...*

To prevent Ye Wuji from drinking too much and talking nonsense, Ye Xiu immediately waved his hand at Zhao Yide—bring out the dishes!

First to be served were six cold delicacies, three of meat and three of vegetarian fare: spiced duck, braised chicken, and pine-nut stuffed pork stomach; pickled bamboo shoots, assorted tofu, and tossed silver threads.

When the plates were neatly arranged, however, the guests showed no intention of reaching for their chopsticks.

Those who had come today were all famed critics of Jiangnan; their purpose was the poetry gathering, and they held no expectations for the food and drink.

In their eyes, Jiangnan cuisine was always the same, and having eaten it countless times, they had long since grown tired of it and felt no appetite whatsoever.

The guests on the second floor and the diners on the first floor felt precisely the same way.

Take Wang Xingzhai, for instance; these dishes were merely the sort of fare eaten by the servants in his household.

Shen Wanshan was visibly rather embarrassed, yet he found it hard to urge them to eat.

"Elder Wang, although these are ordinary ingredients, the dishes prepared by Bianyifang are truly extraordinary," Shopkeeper Liu said cautiously at the sight. "Master Kong Chongyuan came yesterday and could not stop praising the food here, even asking this junior to pack four dishes and a soup for him to take back."

"Oh? Is that so?" Wang Xingzhai's interest was instantly piqued.

The Kong Family Banquet stood at the very pinnacle of the Great Qian realm.

Gathering the essence of culinary traditions from all regions, everyone present possessed vast fortunes, yet none ate with the exquisite refinement of the Kong household.

Almost subconsciously, Wang Xingzhai picked up a slice of the pine-nut stuffed pork stomach and slowly brought it to his mouth.

Oh?

Wang Xingzhai tasted a flavor utterly unlike anything before. He slowly closed his eyes, savoring it with meticulous care.

Immediately afterward, Wang Xingzhai tasted the remaining five cold dishes one by one.

Then, he took a sip of tea and fell silent.

Since he said nothing, no one else dared to touch their chopsticks. They watched him nervously, their hearts in their mouths.

After a long while, Wang Xingzhai slammed his hand down on the table.

"Dammit! This flavor is infinitely rich! Have I been eating pig slop all my life?!"