Chapter 210: Gifted Poetry

Iron Dynasty

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By noon, Qujiang Lake had grown even more crowded.

The autumn sun cast a gentle glow, its warmth tinged with a crisp coolness. High above, pristine white clouds drifted across an endless blue sky—a breathtakingly pure scene that lifted the spirits.

Beneath the willow tree, Xiao Ming’s promise delighted the three men. But Qin Rui hesitated. “Your Highness, this poetry contest is hosted by the princess. The rules state entry is by verse alone. Frankly, for the past five years, we’ve been turned away at the door and mocked relentlessly. But now, with Your Highness’s peerless talent, surely we can share both fortune and misfortune?”

“Exactly! If we could tour the lake with Her Highness, I’d die happy tonight!” Zhu Yushu’s eyes glazed over with longing.

Du Boyuan elbowed him sharply. Zhu Yushu snapped back to reality, suddenly remembering that the princess was Xiao Ming’s aunt. His words bordered on disrespect.

“My apologies, Your Highness! That was nonsense—utter nonsense!”

Xiao Ming had always sensed something dangerous about his aunt. Beneath her harmless facade lay formidable influence—why else would Prince Wei go out of his way to indulge her?

“No matter. Better you three get the privilege than some pretentious scholar.” Xiao Ming grinned, utterly irreverent. To him, Princess Pingyang was no cherished relative.

The trio gaped, then nearly wept with gratitude. Qin Rui clasped his hands. “Your Highness, five years apart, and you’re still the same! For this kindness today, whatever you need in the future, we won’t refuse!”

“Won’t refuse!” Zhu Yushu and Du Boyuan echoed fervently. In their eyes, Prince Qi remained the same legend—always coming through for his friends.

Xiao Ming smiled faintly.

A lakeside excursion with the princess was harmless—just a photo op with a celebrity, in modern terms. While he found it tedious, for these three, it would be bragging rights for a year.

“Shall we head in, then?”

Outside the silk drapes, rejected scholars trudged away dejectedly while selected nobles swaggered inside. The crowd thinned.

“Then we’ll trouble Your Highness!” The trio practically vibrated with anticipation.

“Listen closely.”

Xiao Ming sifted through the poetry database in his mind, selecting three works.

To Qin Rui, he recited:

“Love Seeds

Red berries grow in southern fields,

In spring they overload the trees.

Gather them till your sleeves are filled—

For love they’re meant, not just for show.”

“Brilliant!” The three clapped in awe.

Zhu Yushu’s eyes lit up. “Your Highness’s genius astounds! A casual poem about longing, perfectly suited for this occasion! Qin Rui, give it to me—I’ll go first!”

“Piss off!” Qin Rui snarled. “His Highness gave this to me!”

“Try stopping me, and I’ll tell my father yours visited a brothel last week. One impeachment memorial later…” Zhu Yushu smirked.

“You snake!” Qin Rui and Du Boyuan spat in unison.

Zhu Yushu shrugged. “For the princess, I’ll be shameless. Your Highness, I’m off!”

Chanting the poem, he strutted toward the drapes.

Qin Rui turned tearfully to Xiao Ming. “Your Highness, you must uphold justice! Zhu Yushu’s treachery knows no bounds!”

Xiao Ming sighed. Some things never changed.

“Relax. I’ve more where that came from.” He cleared his throat.

“Hearing a Zither

Golden pegs pierce the sandalwood frame,

Jade-white hands at the zither’s strings.

To draw her lord’s admiring glance,

She plucks wrong notes—on purpose.”

“Exquisite! Your Highness’s talent leaves us in awe!” Qin Rui’s outrage vanished instantly.

Du Boyuan shoved him aside. “Your Highness! My turn!”

Xiao Ming eyed him. “Hongzhi, as a general’s son, love poems don’t suit you. Try this—The Stone Fortress:

Three kingdoms’ fate hinged on his might,

His fame rests on the Eightfold Maze.

The river flows, the stones stand firm—

Regret lingers for Wu’s lost chance.”

Du Boyuan scratched his ears, beaming. Like Xiao Ming’s former self, these three had never bothered with studies—why would they, when official posts were inherited?

With poems in hand, they approached the drapes.

Zhu Yushu had already submitted his verse. A golden-armored guard carried it inside, presumably to the princess.

“Your Highness, after you?”

At the entrance, Zhu Yushu offered paper and brush. Qin Rui and Du Boyuan glared daggers.

After hasty promises of compensatory feasts, peace was restored.

“You go first.” Xiao Ming lingered, letting the other two rush ahead.

Soon, the guard returned. “This gentleman may enter.”

“Your Highness, my deepest thanks! I’ll await you inside—and rely on your further assistance!” Zhu Yushu bowed deeply before strutting in.

Qin Rui and Du Boyuan followed, their entries also accepted.

Alone now, Xiao Ming pondered before writing:

“Wait till the Double Ninth Day comes,

My blooms alone will shame all flowers.

Their scent will pierce the Chang’an skies,

The city drowned in golden armor.”

The guard delivered his poem.

***

Princess Pingyang reclined on a mahogany chair draped in sable furs. Before her, rows of tables seated Chang’an’s most celebrated beauties—a garden of blossoms in silk and perfume.

“Your Highness, this year’s talents surpass all expectations,” remarked a woman in crimson gauze, her porcelain skin accentuated by a vermilion forehead dot. “First Love Seeds, then Hearing a Zither, now The Stone Fortress—such works are rare even in past contests.”

Princess Pingyang smiled. “Princess Xiangcheng speaks true. I’d thought this year mediocre, but these final pieces are extraordinary. Yet prepared verses prove little. Let us test their improvisation next.”

Her gaze shifted to a veiled figure on her right. “Yue’er, this is your first poetry gathering. What do you think?”