223: Chapter 223's theme is...love!

In the back garden of the Prime Minister's Mansion, the channels used for the "Floating Cup" game had been filled with clear spring water, and the limpid stream flowed slowly along the intricately carved stone troughs.

Servants deftly placed small, exquisite wooden trays into the water, each tray steadily holding a celadon cup filled with fine wine.

"Everyone, for this first round, let us start with the 'Floating Cup' game to set the mood."

As the First Scholar of the Capital, Zhang Yun stood at the very head of the stone trough without hesitation, fanning himself with his folding fan and smiling in a dashing, debonair manner.

As his voice faded, the first wooden tray drifted downstream with the current.

The gathered scholars stretched their necks, staring at the small cup spinning on the water's surface, feeling both expectant and somewhat nervous.

If it were to stop in front of them and they could compose a good poem, it would be the perfect opportunity to make an impression on Ouyang Wanqing.

"It's spinning, it's spinning! It's about to stop!"

Someone shouted excitedly, though it was unclear who.

The tray, carried by the current, gently bumped against a corner near the rockery and spun around.

Then, it came to a precise halt right in front of Chen Shanzhi, who was leaning against a pillar and yawning.

Everyone's gaze instantly fell upon Chen Shanzhi, who was wearing a white jade mask.

A flash of mockery crossed Zhang Yun's eyes as he smiled and cupped his hands in a salute:

"My friend with the white jade mask, it seems the honor of this opening act falls to you today. Please, I wonder what earth-shattering masterpiece you might have to open our eyes?"

Chen Shanzhi rolled his eyes behind his mask.

He looked at the wine cup floating before him without even shifting his position.

He straightforwardly extended two fingers, picked up the cup in front of everyone, tilted his head back, and downed it in one go.

Then, Chen Shanzhi smacked his lips and turned the cup upside down to show that not a drop remained:

"Good wine, very potent! But I really don't know how to write poetry. I'll punish myself with a cup; everyone, please continue, do continue."

"Pfft—" A scholar not far away scoffed and muttered under his breath:

"What a boorish fellow, a complete waste of this fine wine."

"He can't even squeeze out a single poem; he's likely just an ignorant show-off. I have no idea why Young Miss Ouyang brought him into the mansion."

Because Chen Shanzhi had been brought in personally by Ouyang Wanqing, the group, despite their disdain, dared not speak too harshly.

The others continued the game, but the tray never drifted in front of Chen Shanzhi again.

Next was the "Pitch-Pot" game.

A double-eared bronze pot was placed in the center of the clearing, and everyone was given three featherless arrows.

Naturally, as this was a game, the use of Qi was strictly forbidden.

The scholars lined up one by one, throwing with elegant postures; whenever someone landed a shot, it drew a round of cheers.

When it was Chen Shanzhi's turn, he stood there crookedly, holding the arrow without even looking carefully, and tossed it away casually.

"Whoosh—" The arrow didn't even come close to the rim of the bronze pot and flew straight into the nearby bushes.

"Oops, my hand slipped, my hand slipped."

Chen Shanzhi adopted a completely shameless, "dead pig isn't afraid of boiling water" attitude, not waiting for anyone else to speak.

He expertly grabbed a flagon of wine from a nearby table, downed three big gulps, and let out a burp: "Self-punishment, self-punishment!"

Watching this hopeless display, the contempt in Zhang Yun's eyes nearly overflowed, and he sneered inwardly.

He had originally thought this white jade mask wearer was a formidable rival, but it turned out he was just a good-for-nothing who only knew how to freeload.

By the time they reached the final "Chain Poetry" round, everyone's perception of Chen Shanzhi's shamelessness was refreshed.

This round required everyone to take turns continuing a poem, with each person adding a line that had to be well-matched and profound in Concept.

The first few scholars did exceptionally well, with lines like "Spring winds blow the willows like smoke" and "Green waters reflect the sun, the grass returns," all of which were of a very high standard.

Yet, when it came to Chen Shanzhi, he wiped the wine stains from his mouth and shouted at the top of his lungs:

"The sky above is pitch black, the ground below is wet with rain. If you ask what I'm writing, I'll punish myself with three cups of wine to fill my belly."

"..." The entire back garden instantly fell into a deathly silence.

The scholars, who had just been nodding their heads while savoring the Concepts, now wore expressions of utter disbelief, as if they had swallowed a fly.

"This... this is outrageous! It is simply a disgrace to refinement!"

"If we weren't at the Prime Minister's Mansion, I would definitely throw him into the lake to sober him up!"

Ouyang Wanqing stood in a corner of the stone pavilion, her beautiful eyes sparkling as she watched Chen Shanzhi.

Although she tried her best to restrain herself, her trembling shoulders and the slightly curled corners of her lips hidden beneath her veil betrayed her inner struggle to hold back her laughter.

This rogue, who clearly could write masterpieces like "Literature is born from nature; a skilled hand merely happens upon it" back at the Academy.

Yet here, in order to hide his talent, he could actually make up such vulgar doggerel.

However, while Chen Shanzhi successfully marginalized himself through his shameless slacking, another man wearing a sandalwood mask began to shine.

Whenever the wine cup reached him, or it was his turn in the chain poetry, this man in simple scholarly robes would rise unhurriedly.

When he spoke, his voice was steady, and every word was a gem. The poems he recited were all exceptional.

Every time he finished a poem, the scholars inside and outside the stone pavilion would exclaim in surprise.

By the end, everyone's gaze toward the man in the sandalwood mask had changed.

Who exactly was this person? How could he be so talented? He could recite poems of various styles at the drop of a hat?

Zhang Yun's fingers tightened around his wine cup, his face turning slightly pale.

As the First Scholar of the Capital, he naturally knew the quality of these poems the First Prince was reciting.

These were poems that would require him to rack his brain to compose, yet this person could recite them effortlessly.

Ouyang Wanqing had also noticed this man in the sandalwood mask. A flicker of surprise crossed her water-like eyes.

She knew most of the famous scholars and refined gentlemen in the capital. Yet, she had absolutely no impression of this person in her mind.

However, Ouyang Wanqing was never stingy with her appreciation for those who were truly talented.

"This Young Master is highly talented." Ouyang Wanqing stepped forward slowly and bowed slightly: "The Concept of this poem is excellent, and the phrasing is exquisite. May I ask who your master is?"

The First Prince, wearing his sandalwood mask, puffed out his chest, the corners of his mouth beneath the mask nearly reaching his ears.

Those bald-headed retainers of his really hadn't lied to him last night; this poem was indeed solid.

He deliberately lowered his voice and cupped his hands to Ouyang Wanqing, neither servile nor overbearing:

"This commoner is merely a rustic villager who enjoys reading miscellaneous books; I am self-taught and not worth mentioning. Being able to catch the eye of the Young Miss is already a great honor."

These words were very appropriate; they possessed the mystery and humility of a reclusive master without losing dignity, instantly winning Ouyang Wanqing's favor.

"Young Master is too modest. If such talent is considered 'self-taught,' then most of the scholars in the capital would have to jump into the moat."

Ouyang Wanqing smiled faintly, a trace of approval in her beautiful eyes.

Beside them, Zhang Yun saw this, his eyes burning with such jealousy that they nearly spat fire, his teeth grinding audibly.

He had originally intended to steal the spotlight before Ouyang Wanqing today. Who would have thought that this masked stranger would appear out of nowhere and snatch all the glory away!

Yet, the poems that person produced were flawless, so he could only hold it in, not daring to lose his composure in front of Ouyang Wanqing.

Unknowingly, all the warm-up games were finished, and the time was gradually approaching noon.

"Everyone, let us end the games here." Ouyang Wanqing rose gracefully, walked to the center of the stone pavilion, and swept her gaze over the crowd: "What follows is the main event of today's Poetry Gathering."

Once these words were spoken, the breath of every scholar present hitched, and their eyes became burning with intensity.

Everyone knew the rules of the Poetry Gathering at the Prime Minister's Mansion. After each round of games, Ouyang Wanqing would personally select seven people based on their performance.

Then, she would set a topic, these seven would compose poems on the spot, and finally, everyone would judge them together.

And the person who gained everyone's consensus and won the title of "Poetry Champion" would not only become famous in the capital but, more importantly... would be personally invited by Ouyang Wanqing to stay after the gathering ended to discuss poetry together in the Prime Minister's Mansion!

Since the gathering ended at noon, this meant the winner could spend a cozy afternoon alone with this Daughter of the Prime Minister!

Since ancient times, the companionship of a beautiful woman has been the most desired thing for these self-proclaimed dashing scholars.

In the past, this spot usually belonged to Zhang Yun. But today, Zhang Yun's palms clenched quietly, and a look of unprecedented gravity flashed in his eyes.

Regarding that guy with the sandalwood mask, he had absolutely no confidence now.

"I, Wanqing, am untalented, but I have already selected six Young Masters." Ouyang Wanqing's cool, clear voice echoed in the back garden: "Young Master Zhang."

Zhang Yun took a deep breath, put a confident smile back on his face, stepped forward, and cupped his hands elegantly: "Thank you, Young Miss."

"And this Young Master wearing the sandalwood mask." The First Prince also stepped forward with a calm expression and nodded slightly.

Next, Ouyang Wanqing named four other scholars who were quite famous in the capital and had also written good poems earlier.

With six people selected, there was only one spot left.

The rest who had not been selected straightened their backs, hoping that Ouyang Wanqing would look their way.

However, Ouyang Wanqing's autumn-water-like eyes swept slowly across the crowd, passing over those expectant scholars.

They finally landed on Chen Shanzhi, who was leaning against a pillar, holding a half-eaten apple, looking completely careless.

Amidst the shocked gazes of everyone, Ouyang Wanqing actually walked with lotus steps, slowly approaching Chen Shanzhi.

Her water-blue skirt swept across the ground, and she slightly raised her exquisite, beautiful face. Her long eyelashes fluttered, and her voice was extremely soft, but it carried a hint of triumphant amusement: "The last spot, is yours."

"What?" The entire back garden instantly exploded in an uproar.

The scholars' eyes nearly popped out of their heads, their faces filled with confusion and absurdity.

"Young Miss Ouyang, this person couldn't even write a decent poem earlier, relying entirely on slacking and drinking as punishment, why does he deserve the final spot?"

"Exactly, this... this isn't according to the rules, is it?"

Everyone whispered, their eyes filled with jealousy and hatred, glaring fiercely at Chen Shanzhi.

This masked man had previously polluted everyone's ears with doggerel. And now he could actually be personally invited by Ouyang Wanqing into this final poetry battle?

Could it be... that this guy really has something going on with Young Miss Ouyang?

Zhang Yun's fists clenched until they cracked, a stinging, cold light flashing in the depths of his eyes.

And the First Prince, standing not far away, had his gaze turn instantly cold beneath his mask as he stared fixedly at Chen Shanzhi.

He could clearly feel that the way Ouyang Wanqing looked at this man with the white jade mask was completely different from how she looked at everyone else.

Faced with the crowd's questioning, Ouyang Wanqing didn't even offer a single word of extra explanation.

A smile curled the corners of her lips hidden beneath her veil as she walked back to the center of the stone pavilion, her cool, ethereal voice spreading across the entire venue:

"The selection is complete. The theme for today's final round..." She paused, her beautiful eyes passing over the crowd and landing meaningfully on Chen Shanzhi's white jade mask, her red lips parting slightly: "Is Love!"