Chapter 30: Want to Advise Him? First, See If You're Qualified

“My mother told me not to interfere. I don’t know what she’s planning, so I’ll hold back for now, lest I disrupt her intentions,” Lin Ze whispered.

The four of them found a place to sit. Lin Ze fanned himself languidly. “It’s the perfect opportunity to listen to everyone’s poetry, appreciate their talent, and perhaps even improve my own skills.”

The others shared the same thought. Qin Ming eyed the fan in Lin Ze’s hand. “Are you very hot?”

“You don’t understand! This is called elegance.” Lin Ze had specially sought out this fan; the calligraphy and paintings upon it were the works of renowned masters.

Qin Ming quietly admitted to himself that he truly didn’t understand.

Lin Xi straightened his clothes, a graceful smile appearing on his face. “I am honored by everyone’s presence today. Poetry can express feeling and resolve. I hope that today, each of you will speak freely and make friends through verse.”

The audience applauded enthusiastically.

Lin Xi continued, “It is the season for farming, and recently a plow called the Quyuan Plow has appeared, which I am sure you’ve heard of. They say it was invented by a scholar—truly a case of learning benefiting the people. Today’s theme will be spring sowing and the people. Allow me to start the proceedings.”

Lin Ze smirked; Lin Xi probably didn’t realize the Quyuan Plow was the work of Su-ge. If he knew, he certainly wouldn’t brag about it on stage.

Lin Xi spoke with confidence—he had pondered this poem for a long time. “New furrows break the spring fields, the whole family busy with the tilling. Gentle rain comes at the right time, rushing to sow the green seedlings.”

“Excellent! Brother Lin’s poem is wonderful!”

The scholars below lavished praise on Lin Xi.

Lin Ze rubbed his nose; the poem was indeed good. Though Lin Xi’s personality irritated him, Lin Ze couldn’t deny his talent.

“Su-ge, what do you think of his poem?” Qin Ming’s own poetic skills were lacking, so he asked.

“It’s all right.” Could Li Su really say, after having read masterpieces all his life, that Lin Xi’s poem was merely average?

From Su-ge’s tone, it was clear the poem wasn’t impressive.

Each table was set with brushes, ink, and paper for the scholars to use freely. Everyone began to compose their own verses.

Li Su and his companions sat calmly, making no move to write poetry.

Lin Xi glanced their way. Four useless fellows, he thought, and determined to call them up later to embarrass them—especially Li Su, that country bumpkin who dared to slight him.

Li Su had no intention of composing a poem. He could recite many, but writing one himself was still beyond him. For this theme, he could recall several—such as “In Sympathy with Farmers,” “Spring Plowing at Pingquan,” “Spring Plowing at South Creek.”

Many scholars took the stage to recite their works, confident in their abilities.

The event was lively below, but Xie Sheng, seated above, didn’t even lift his gaze. He couldn’t understand why such mediocre verse was met with applause. If his own students wrote like this, he would expel them on the spot.

Gradually, fewer people came forward to recite, and groups formed to discuss their poetry, truly making friends through literature.

Lin Ze propped his head on his hand. “Some of them are quite good. I wonder when I’ll reach their level.”

“Take it slow. One cannot leap to the top in a day. Improvement comes only through accumulation,” Li Su reassured him, worried Lin Ze might become discouraged.

“Right! If I keep working hard, I’ll get there.” Lin Ze nodded emphatically.

Li Su: “…” It seemed his concern was unnecessary.

The four of them chatted idly. Xie Sheng, from time to time, walked to the window and observed them. They sat unmoved, as if glued to their seats, not mingling or exchanging words with others, just sitting there at ease.

Xie Sheng: “…”

Having some impression of Li Su, he couldn’t help but pay more attention to him, which only irritated himself further.

No scholarly bearing at all!

The four below had no idea they’d been watched several times from above.

Lin Xi, seeing that the time was right, looked toward Lin Ze. “Brother, why don’t you and your friends share your poetry with everyone? Let us all appreciate your work. There are many talented people here who can offer guidance.”

Lin Ze frowned. Again?

Seeing they hadn’t written a poem at all, he was deliberately singling them out.

“If you’re so energetic, why not compose a few more for everyone’s enjoyment?” Lin Ze retorted sourly.

Someone beside Lin Xi jumped in, “Brother Lin is giving you an opportunity for your own good. There are many talented people here. If you recite your poem, everyone can offer advice. How can you be so ungrateful?”

“Brother Lin’s intentions are sincere.”

“Brother, if you haven’t written one yourself, perhaps your friends have? Surely four people haven’t all failed to compose something?” Lin Xi was determined to expose them as worthless, hoping no one would want to associate with them.

Lin Ze: “…” Indeed, none of the four had written a poem.

Lin Ze knew Lin Xi was being spiteful. He was fuming inside—if he went up and composed something poorly, he’d be embarrassed; if he didn’t, his friends would be humiliated with him.

Lin Ze gritted his teeth. He’d rather go up and be embarrassed alone.

Li Su’s eyes flashed coldly. He sneered. They want to offer advice? He would like to see if they were truly capable.

Did they really think they could bully them?

Li Su stopped Lin Ze, who was about to rise, and stood up himself, to Lin Ze’s surprise and shock.

Lin Xi glanced at Li Su with mocking disdain. Brotherly heroics, but without the skill to match—what a disgrace.

Ren Shuhua and Qin Ming exchanged uncertain glances. How was Su-ge’s poetry? Thinking back, it hadn’t seemed particularly good, and Su-ge had been chatting with them the whole time, never composing a verse.

Lin Ze clenched his fists. Was Su-ge going to be embarrassed on his behalf?

Was he so useless, dragging his friends down with him?

Qin Ming patted Lin Ze’s shoulder. Su-ge was certainly loyal.

Lin Xi’s eyes brimmed with contempt and anticipation, eager for Li Su’s poem to be ridiculed. “Do you need more time to prepare?”

“No need. I hope to receive advice from Scholar Lin.” Li Su smiled, but his eyes held no warmth.

Lin Xi suddenly felt a chill down his spine, uneasy under Li Su’s gaze.

Impossible, he thought. He’s just a rural bumpkin.

Li Su sensed a gaze upon him, different from the others who were simply watching the spectacle.

Following his instincts, Li Su looked up and met the eyes of Xie Sheng on the upper floor.

Those eyes were deep, like a bottomless ancient pool, meaningful and unfathomable, radiating a powerful presence yet tinged with scholarly grace.

Li Su’s first impression was that this was a peculiar old man of no ordinary stature—a learned elder whose judgment was rarely wrong.

Li Su’s gaze toward Xie Sheng grew more eager, almost fervent, but quickly faded, replaced by a fleeting calculation.

Xie Sheng: “???” What kind of look was that?

Li Su thought to himself, he had intended to find a mentor to guide him in the art of formal essays. If he performed well now, perhaps he could win such a teacher.

And before finding a master, he could not let his poor essay-writing skills be exposed.

Li Su cleared his throat. “Ancestor Li Shen, let me borrow your poem to fish for a teacher.”

“Please, everyone, enjoy.”