Chapter 93: Not Opposing Anyone in Particular
Literary duel?!
They were ruined!
How depressing!
Ma Xiaoyi slumped in his chair, feeling utterly hopeless.
All those who had previously supported Cao Dongdong fell silent.
A literary duel?
You’re attacking their strength with your weakness.
A physical fight was their true calling!
The morale of the imperial in-laws party plummeted.
It’s over! It’s over! Zhang Fei looked at their mournful expressions and understood the situation, reluctantly gazing at the widow on stage, thinking, Beauty, we are truly star-crossed! He then glanced at Cao Dongdong, angrily cursing him in his heart, You fool!
Cao Dongdong also realized he had made an unforgivable mistake. If he didn’t handle this well, he’d be deserted by everyone. Just as he was at a loss for what to do, he saw Zhang Fei glaring at him. A sudden inspiration hit him, and he laughed, “What’s up with all of you? A literary duel it is. With Zhang San here, what is there to fear?”
As soon as he said this, Zhang Fei became the center of attention.
Ma Xiaoyi perked up, “Brother San, can you really compose poetry?”
“I…”
“Of course he can. Zhang San wins every courtroom battle with his words, doesn’t he?” Cao Dongdong quickly interjected.
Zhang Fei said, “Wait, I…”
Cao Dongdong whispered, “Zhang San, I’ve spent so much money to help you win that widow. You won’t even put in this little effort?”
My legs are already firmly planted, my waist is set, and my tongue is warmed up, but I’m not prepared for composing poetry! Zhang Fei wanted to cry but had no tears, “This isn’t…!”
Before he could finish, Han Pan and Fu Zhishuang were already at their table.
“I’ve long heard that whenever Zhang San opens his mouth, it’s worth hundreds of strings. Today, I would like to witness this firsthand.”
Han Pan gave a slight bow.
Ma Xiaoyi said, “Brother San, show them your skills.”
“Wonderful! Wonderful! Today we all want to see Zhang San’s talent.”
“Indeed! Zhang San, show us what you’ve got.”
…
Everyone started clamoring, regardless of which side they were on.
After all, Zhang Fei was this year’s most talked-about figure, especially for his eloquence. His tongue even left many officials at a loss.
But courtroom battles were not the mainstream; poetry was the true mark of a scholar.
That was considered real talent.
Just being good at lawsuits was considered lowbrow.
Cao Dongdong tilted his head, “Go!”
Go, your sister! Zhang Fei angrily glared at him, thinking, no wonder those web novel protagonists always resort to plagiarizing poems to show off. It turns out they were forced into it! But after all, he wasn’t genuinely talented. He worried he might fail miserably.
He could argue cases till the end of time without faltering!
But composing poetry—he could remember some his past life, but they weren’t his own. Would it be noticeable? Besides, he didn’t have the temperament for it!
But looking at the widow, Zhang Fei thought he had to give it a try. Exchanging a poem for a beauty, where else could he find such a deal?
After a moment of contemplation, he suddenly stood up and looked disdainfully at Han Pan, “How do you plan to play?”
Ma Xiaoyi, seeing Zhang Fei actually taking on the challenge, was excited and nudged Cao Dongdong with his elbow, giggling, “Brother, you’re smart. This is going to be a good show.”
Cao Dongdong chuckled, “Of course.”
If they lost, it would have nothing to do with him. He had already won the bidding war!
Han Pan, seeing Zhang Fei’s arrogance, was displeased. You, a mere pen-in-cap, dare to be arrogant in front of me, “You set the rules.”
Zhang Fei pretended to think and said, “Today, we are here for the beauty. Let’s compose a poem with the theme ‘heart of the beauty’, how about it?”
Han Pan was surprised, “Heart of the beauty?”
Zhang Fei nodded, “Yes! The topic is this beauty, writing a poem as if from her heart. Let’s see who can compose a more feminine poem.”
“Wonderful! Wonderful!”
A clear voice from the second floor rang out, “Wonderful! Wonderful! Zhang San’s method is truly brilliant.”
Everyone looked up to see that it was the singer Caishi speaking. Many singers stood on the second and third floors, eagerly watching.
They seemed very interested in this way of playing.
Not only them, but the other young masters also cheered. Ma Xiaoyi even squatted on his chair, “Writing a woman’s poem, this is truly interesting.”
Han Pan looked suspiciously at Zhang Fei, shook his head, “I’ve never written like this and I’m not good at it. If you can do it well and win the applause of the ladies, then you win.”
These singers, though not as talented as Li Qingzhao, spent their lives immersed in poetry, making them top-notch critics.
If they all applauded, it would undoubtedly be a good poem.
And their judgment of femininity would be very fair.
“It’s a deal.”
Zhang Fei said and walked toward the widow on stage.
The widow had been standing there absent-mindedly, seemingly deep in thought, unaware of their argument. When Zhang Fei approached her, she stepped back in fright.
Zhang Fei was taken aback, Am I that scary? So he asked again, “May I know the lady’s name?”
Seeing that Zhang Fei meant no harm, the widow bowed slightly and replied, “Answering your question, my humble name is Gao Wenyin.”
“Gao Wenyin.”
Zhang Fei repeated softly and then asked, “I heard your husband recently passed away, is that true?”
Gao Wenyin’s eyes showed a trace of sorrow, and she nodded lightly.
Zhang Fei continued, “You must miss your late husband very much?”
Gao Wenyin’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded again.
Fu Zhishuang shouted from below, “Aren’t you going to compose a poem? Why are you asking these questions?”
Zhang Fei smiled, “If I don’t know her story, how can I write from her heart? Don’t you all think that that makes sense?”
“Very reasonable!”
Cao Dongdong immediately responded.
Hearing this, Han Pan felt relieved. It would be difficult to compose a poem based on the woman’s story and from her perspective as a woman.
He didn’t believe Zhang San had such skills.
Zhang Fei looked at Gao Wenyin again and, after a while, began to recite, “Thin mist, dense clouds, sorrow eternal.”[1]
The hall fell silent.
Han Pan frowned, thinking, this man has some talent!
The first line wasn’t extraordinary, but it perfectly matched the current weather and Gao Wenyin’s expression, described in vivid detail.
Zhang Fei continued, “Incense burns away in the golden censer. The Double Ninth Festival comes again. Jade pillow, gauze curtains, the chill of midnight penetrates.”
The singers upstairs recited along, nodding with joy, and looked at Zhang Fei expectantly.
Even the widow Gao Wenyin couldn’t help but look up silently.
Ma Xiaoyi, not understanding much, asked Fu Shichun, “Brother Chun, how is it?”
Fu Shichun shook his head in amazement, “I didn’t expect Zhang San to have such talent. Truly, people cannot be judged by their appearance.”
Fu Zhishuang frowned, “The Double Ninth Festival comes again?”
Zhang Fei suddenly picked up a cup of wine from a nearby table and continued, “I drink wine by the eastern fence after dusk, the fragrance of plum blossom fills my sleeves. Is my soul not consumed? In the westerly wind that lifts the curtains, I am thinner than the yellow flowers.”
Gao Wenyin, staring at Zhang Fei, didn’t even realize that a tear had rolled down her face, leaving a deep trail.
“Perfect!”
Fu Shichun clapped in amazement.
“Well done!”
At the same time, the singers on stage cheered.
“Is my soul not consumed? In the westerly wind that lifts the curtains, I am thinner than the yellow flowers! Wonderful! Wonderful! This trip was worth it!”
“What a line, thinner than the yellow flowers! Let’s drink to that! Haha!”
…
When Zhang Fei recited the last three lines, the entire hall erupted in applause. Scholars and beauties alike cheered and drank, all praising his work.
Fan Zheng suddenly looked at his father, “Is he really just a pen-in-cap?”
Fan Yong shook his head in disbelief.
“Wait!”
A voice interrupted the cheers. Fu Zhishuang stepped forward, “You must have heard this somewhere.”
Zhang Fei remained calm, “What do you mean, Young Master Fu?”
Fu Zhishuang said, “The Double Ninth Festival again? The festival is long past, and we are nearing the end of the year. Also, the curtain rolling up in the west wind refers to autumn. It’s winter now.”
Hearing this, many people showed suspicion.
They had been so impressed that they hadn’t noticed the details. Now, they found his argument reasonable; the poem’s setting didn’t match the current scene!
Zhang Fei smiled, “Yes, I imagined it. Is there a problem?”
He spread his hands, “This scene is chaotic and has no artistic value. It doesn’t match the thoughts of Lady Gao. Instead of beautifying this scene, I used my imagination to depict a wife missing her late husband. Is that not allowed?”
Many people nodded in agreement.
The current scene was chaotic and had nothing to do with longing. It was hard to evoke such feelings.
Arguing with strong reasoning was Zhang Fei’s specialty; he wasn’t afraid at all.
Fu Zhishuang sneered, “Your explanation isn’t convincing.”
He truly didn’t believe it. It had to be plagiarized.
“Fine!”
Zhang Fei said proudly, “I’ll give you a convincing reason. From today, I give you ten years. Search all over the world. If you find a similar poem that surpasses mine in femininity, I’ll repay you with ten thousand strings.”
He then sneered, “Heard it somewhere? Where? Tell me!”
You say I plagiarized?
From whom?
He not only copied Li Qingzhao’s poem but also her domineering spirit. Li Qingzhao once used her book “Treatise on Poetry” to criticize the greats of the Northern Song literary world like Ouyang Xiu, Su Shi, Liu Yong, Wang Anshi, and Qin Guan.
She was a woman with a spirit that few could match.
Well… of course, there are still some who could match her.
After all, no one could be the definitive top in literature.
The Northern Song literary stars were truly blinding.
Thus, Zhang Fei set some soft conditions to prevent any mishaps. Similar poems, femininity, he didn’t believe anyone could surpass this poem.
Only magic can defeat magic, but Li Qingzhao had not been born yet.
“Good! Brother San, well said!”
Ma Xiaoyi jumped on the table, “Anyone who can surpass my Brother San, come forward and try. If not, keep quiet.”
This kid loved to stir trouble.
At this moment, a young master suddenly shouted, “Look, Lady Gao is crying.”
Gao Wenyin, suddenly alerted, quickly lowered her head and wiped her tears with a silk handkerchief.
Her tears were the best verdict.
The hall erupted in cheers again.
Without talent, how could one be so domineering?
Everyone believed him.
Han Pan, though unwilling, had said earlier that if the singers acknowledged him, he would concede. He immediately cupped his hands in a bow, “Congratulations, Brother Zhang, on winning the beauty.”
Zhang Fei returned the bow, “Thank you! Thank you!”
“We won!”
Cao Dongdong raised his arm, “We won! Haha! You can’t even win a literary duel, better go home and study! Hahaha!”
[1] Zhang Fei is taking the poem “Drunk in Blossom Shade” from Li Qingzhao, a poet mentioned before as Zhang Fei’s favorite and who isn’t born yet in the current timeline. The translations are adapted from this site.