Chapter 44: A Moonlit Night Among Blossoms on the Spring River

When Bai Zijin witnessed this scene, she was so furious that she stamped her foot hard. Now, regardless of whether Lin Buyu passed the scholarly examination, she would undoubtedly be the most prominent figure at this gathering.

“Buyu, what do you think?” Amid the tumultuous voices, Xu Ye paused his writing, turned, and looked at Lin Buyu beside him. The smile lingered on his lips; he showed no sign of anger at Li Moyan’s sudden appearance.

“What do you take Lin Buyu for?” Lin Buyu glared at Xu Ye with some displeasure, then raised her head, frowning as she looked at Li Moyan. “Top Scholar, please return. This crude work of mine is unworthy of your poetry.”

“What did you say?” Li Moyan, who had rarely been refused since childhood, stared at Lin Buyu in disbelief, as if she had spoken a language beyond his comprehension.

“I said, this painting does not need your poem.” Lin Buyu repeated, her tone colder and more resolute.

“Lin Buyu, have you lost your senses? He’s the Top Scholar!”
“To refuse the Top Scholar and let a ghost scribe write instead—are you out of your mind?”
Murmurs rose again, with many accusing Lin Buyu of failing to recognize her good fortune.

“Sister Buyu, now you’ve offended even the Top Scholar.”
“To indulge your pride and dare refuse the Top Scholar, you prove yourself nothing more than an ignorant girl.”
Not far off, Bai Zijin and Liu Muxuan watched gleefully.

“Xu Ye, write!”
Yet these people did not understand Lin Buyu’s temperament: the more you opposed her, the more determined she became. It mattered not whether you were the Top Scholar, even if the emperor or a sage stood before her, she would never change her mind.

“Alright.” Xu Ye grinned.
He dipped his brush in ink once more, smoothed its tip, and prepared to write.

“Come, come, everyone, take a look! To make Miss Buyu refuse the Top Scholar, this ghost scribe must possess remarkable literary talent!”
In the crowd, Liu Muxuan urged his followers to stir things up, drawing everyone closer to the table.

Because this literary gathering was meant for exchange, Elder Liang, the scholar, did not stop the uproar. He simply watched coldly from the sidelines.

The Top Scholar, Li Moyan, though refused by Lin Buyu, did not grow angry. After a brief moment of confusion, he regained his aloof composure and stood quietly, waiting for Xu Ye to begin.

“Spring River.”
Under the gaze of all present, Xu Ye wrote the two characters. The crowd read them aloud in unison. There was no denying Xu Ye’s calligraphy: a style unlike any from this world, flowing and ethereal, captivating all who saw it.

“The tide flows level with the sea.”
Without pause, Xu Ye wrote the first line of the poem, then dipped his brush in ink again.

“Spring river...the tide flows level with the sea.”
Elder Liang, after reading the first line, his cloudy eyes suddenly shone bright.

The Top Scholar, Li Moyan, also showed surprise.

“This line suits the painting well.”
“Remarkable.”
Many of the scholars who had been merely watching now grew solemn.

Lin Buyu herself was astonished; not only did Xu Ye’s verse perfectly match her painting’s imagery, but its spirit was also strikingly similar.

Under the changed glances of those around him, Xu Ye wrote the second line—

“The bright moon rises from the sea with the tide.”
As the brush completed the final stroke of “rises,” the grand hall fell silent; even the whisper of pen against paper could be heard distinctly.

Everyone, including the Top Scholar, stared in awe at the two lines written on the scroll.

“Spring river’s tide flows level with the sea, bright moon rises from the sea with the tide... How could a humble literary gathering produce such a masterpiece?”
Elder Liang muttered in disbelief.

At that moment, no one in the hall showed the ghost scribe any contempt; each face was filled with surprise and anticipation—astonished at the world-shaking lines, eager for the poem’s completion.

Some had already begun to take notes.

Only Liu Muxuan and Bai Zijin, their faces twisted as if they had tasted bitter herbs, stood frozen in place.

“The slanting moon sinks into the sea’s mist, endless roads wind through cliffs and rivers.”
“How many return by moonlight, the setting moon stirs emotions among riverside trees.”

Moments later, Xu Ye’s brush danced across the paper, composing the final two lines.

Boom!
As he finished the complete “Spring River Flower Moon Night,” the brush floating nearby suddenly released a surge of noble energy as vast as the tide.

Amid the cries of astonishment, the Spring-Autumn Brush, using this energy as ink, painted a moonlit scene identical to Lin Buyu’s work above the hall.

In the painting, the bright moon hovered above the sea, illuminating the hall as if it were day.

“A masterpiece! This is an unparalleled masterpiece!”
Someone in the hall could not help but exclaim.

As the exclamation sounded, the floating brush lightly tapped the moon in the painting, then drew the entire scene downward, merging it onto the night-moon scroll before Lin Buyu.

The painting suspended above transformed back into noble energy, flowing like a waterfall into the scroll upon her table under the guidance of the Spring-Autumn Brush.

Moments later, Lin Buyu, in disbelief, saw that her once ordinary night-moon painting had become a scroll brimming with noble energy. Especially the moon above, which continuously radiated this energy outward.

“Miss Buyu, do not be too surprised. The Spring-Autumn Brush, using a peerless poem as ink, has elevated your night-moon painting into a sacred artifact,” Elder Liang stepped forward, picked up the brush, and explained kindly.

“And it begins as a third-grade sacred artifact—one day, it may even possess the destiny of a legendary relic,” Top Scholar Li Moyan added enviously.

“I never expected the capital to have a young talent capable of composing such a masterpiece. My respect.”
Li Moyan turned to Xu Ye, bowing earnestly.

“Oh, it was just a casual copy,” Xu Ye replied, embarrassed.

“Brother Xu, you are too modest. Even for this single poem, you should be invited to the Imperial Academy,” Li Moyan said with regret.