Chapter 119: Xuanyuan Changfeng

After a full half-day of wandering, Gou Ye felt as though his very bones were about to fall apart. Yet, looking back at Yunniang and the Guo brothers, they remained as spirited and insatiable as ever. Yunniang was one thing—women were born with an inexhaustible stamina for shopping—but the Guo brothers seemed to harbor a peculiar passion for these outings. Despite their sturdy, muscular frames, Gou Ye had never once seen them show a hint of fatigue.

Following a recommendation from Jia Zhengyi, the group arrived before a restaurant that clearly stood above the rest. Its architectural style was sophisticated and refined, exuding an air of elegance. The steps at the entrance were crafted from high-quality marble, and on either side stood four stone carvings: a brush, ink stick, paper, and inkstone. At a glance, it was evident that this was a gathering place for scholars and men of letters.

Looking up, one could see two plaques flanking the entrance, inscribed with the lines: "Drunken breezes and pale moons at twilight, the fragrance of fine wine welcomes the morning sun." Above them hung a grand sign bearing three large characters: "Moonlight Pavilion."

"What a magnificent couplet, and what a marvelous Moonlight Pavilion! Boss Jia, is this place of such refined atmosphere also an asset under our Merchant Clan?" Gou Ye couldn't help but sigh in genuine admiration, turning to ask Jia Zhengyi beside him.

Jia Zhengyi chuckled. "Regrettably, this is not owned by the Merchant Clan. I know you have a fondness for literature, Young Master Gou, which is why I brought everyone here. This place is a regular haunt for scholars and refined gentlemen who gather to compose poetry. Many top scholars and high-ranking officials have walked through these doors, and today they serve as pillars of the Imperial Court. Thus, the Moonlight Pavilion is also known as the 'Top Scholar Pavilion.' Since you are to take the imperial examinations next year, Young Master Gou, coming here is a good way to absorb some of that auspicious energy."

Gou Ye laughed heartily and agreed. With his hands clasped behind his back, he stepped into the Moonlight Pavilion. The interior was just as elegant as the exterior. Standing on the ground floor, one could hear the eloquent debates of the scholars above. Led by a waiter, the group was shown to a private room on the second floor, which offered a clear view of the scholars debating in the main hall.

Most notably, there stood a folding screen in the center of the hall, around which a crowd had gathered, critiquing its contents. Gou Ye could not help but ask, "Boss Jia, so many scholars have gathered there; they all seem to be commenting on what is written on that screen."

Jia Zhengyi replied, "Young Master Gou, if you are interested, we can go take a look in a moment. That screen has a name: the 'Poetry Screen.' Scholars and poets come there to test their literary talent. Anyone who can compose a poem superior to the one currently on the screen may write it down. If a subsequent visitor writes an even better one, it replaces the old. The longer a poem remains on the screen, the more it proves the author's literary prowess."

"Oh? That sounds quite interesting. And whose poem has remained on it the longest so far?" Gou Ye asked.

"The current poem was written by Xuanyuan Changfeng, who calls himself the 'Number One Talent of the Capital.' It has been there for over three months now, and to this day, no one has been able to surpass it. He has even boasted that, throughout the entire capital, no one will be able to break his poem within a year."

Hearing this, Gou Ye grew instantly intrigued. The "Number One Talent of the Capital"? Was it really necessary to be so shameless? Did he not know that in literature, there is no first, and in martial arts, there is no second? Whatever "refined gentleman" he might be, he was nothing more than an arrogant fool. Just then, Jia Zhengyi pointed to a private room next to the crowd. "Young Master Gou, if you look over there, you can see the young man in white sitting inside—that is Xuanyuan Changfeng. You two are of similar age, and as it happens, I hear he is also sitting for the imperial examinations next year. Everyone is predicting that the Moonlight Pavilion will produce yet another top scholar this year."

At this, Gou Ye felt a spark of defiance. He leaned forward to take a look, curled his lip, and then, catching sight of the dishes on his table, thought to himself that once he finished his lunch, he would go and teach that young man a lesson. With that thought, he began to eat voraciously.

Yunniang, sensing his intentions, gave his shoulder a gentle nudge and whispered, "Brother Gou, we are newcomers here; shouldn't we keep a low profile? You are indeed extraordinarily talented, but these people are well-versed in the classics and have received formal instruction. There is no need for us to compete with them. A contest is a small matter, but if you were to lose face..."

Before Yunniang could finish, Gou Ye set down his chopsticks and wiped the oil from his lips with his sleeve. If she hadn't said anything, it might have been fine, but now that she had, how could he lose face in front of his own woman? Besides, looking across the world—let alone anything else—when it came to composing poetry, if he dared to claim second place, who would dare claim first?

Gou Ye stood up without a word. Seeing this, the others stood as well and followed him into the crowd. Pushing past the onlookers, Gou Ye arrived before the Poetry Screen. Such a boisterous and unrefined display, lacking the composure of a true scholar, caused the crowd to cast sideways glances. It appeared that some ruffian had arrived. Even Xuanyuan Changfeng, from within his private room, noticed the aggressive approach of Gou Ye's group and looked over.

On the screen was written: *“A touch of longing, a touch of tears; a dream of song, a dream of return. Whose heart is broken, unable to send its sorrow? No rouge is painted, no tears are shed. The beauty holds three thousand thoughts, sighing to ask when the hero will return. Beneath the red candle and the murky wine cup, shadows linger, as if mirroring a pair of lovers.”*

It had to be admitted that this was indeed a fine poem. It was understandable why the scholars had struggled to surpass it. But to Gou Ye, this was like brandishing a broadsword in front of Guan Yu. After studying it for a moment, he suddenly let out a loud laugh that startled those around him. He then shouted, "Bring me brush and ink!"

This outburst sent a ripple of agitation through the crowd. They were regulars at the Moonlight Pavilion and none recognized Gou Ye. For this stranger to appear, take one look, and claim he could break the poem seemed far too arrogant. Even Xuanyuan Changfeng stood up in his room, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Before long, the waiter arrived with the brush and ink. Gou Ye rolled up his sleeves, chewing on the end of his brush as he paused to think. Seeing this, the crowd assumed he was stumped and began to jeer, urging him to step down. Xuanyuan Changfeng, witnessing this, gave a faint, dismissive smile, thinking him just another fame-seeker, and returned to his wine. But suddenly, Gou Ye raised his brush and began to write fluently and gracefully right beside the poem written by Xuanyuan Changfeng.

The scene turned deathly silent. The crowd held their breath, reading along as he wrote. And just then, upon hearing the verses the crowd was reading, Xuanyuan Changfeng, disregarding all decorum, bolted out of his private room.