Chapter 36: Is That It? Is That Really It?

The veteran scholars and civil officials clapped their hands and roared with laughter, showering the work with unreserved praise. Even the Empress Dowager nodded in satisfaction. The poem was indeed excellent; both its metrical structure and artistic conception were of the highest order. He was, as expected, the greatest talent in the capital.

Listening to the praise around him, Yuwen Yue wore a triumphant smile. This poem was, without question, the pinnacle of his recent work. He could not believe that Xie Ning, that good-for-nothing, could possibly produce anything better. He cast a provocative glance at Xie Ning.

"Young Master Xie, I have finished my poem. Now, it is your turn. I wonder, have you finished that cup of tea yet?" His tone was dripping with mockery.

Every eye in the room turned once again to Xie Ning. They all wanted to see how this arrogant fool would handle himself in the face of Yuwen Yue’s near-perfect composition. They were ready to watch him make a fool of himself.

However, Xie Ning merely set down his teacup with agonizing slowness. He stood up, stretched, and let out a yawn. His languid demeanor suggested he did not care about the competition in the slightest. He looked at Yuwen Yue and curled his lip.

"Is that it?"

He spoke only those three words, yet they were infused with such thick, unconcealed, and naked contempt that they felt like a red-hot iron brand searing Yuwen Yue’s heart.

"Is that it?" Xie Ning repeated, shaking his head with a face full of disappointment. "Pedestrian and insipid. A mere pile of flowery rhetoric, completely devoid of soul. With a level like this, how dare you call yourself a talent?"

Xie Ning’s voice was not loud, but in the relatively quiet Imperial Garden, it was exceptionally clear. Each word was like a heavy hammer, striking everyone present.

Pedestrian? Insipid? A pile of rhetoric? Devoid of soul? Was he talking about Yuwen Yue’s seven-character regulated verse, which everyone had just hailed as a masterpiece?

He was mad! This Xie Ning had completely lost his mind! He was not just arrogant; he was utterly nonsensical!

"You brat, how dare you spout such wild nonsense!" An old man with a white beard was so enraged he stood up on the spot, pointing at Xie Ning’s nose and cursing.

"What do you know about poetry? How many books have you even read to dare to criticize Young Master Yuwen’s painstaking work like this?"

"Exactly! An ignorant child, merely grandstanding!"

"If you have the ability, write one yourself! I want to see what kind of earth-shattering verse a madman like you can produce!"

The row of civil officials erupted in indignation. They felt their professional domain had been insulted and provoked as never before.

Yuwen Yue’s expression was ghastly. He felt as if his lungs were about to explode. The poem he had poured his heart and soul into, which he considered his masterpiece, had been dismissed as worthless by Xie Ning.

"Xie Ning!" he hissed through gritted teeth. "If you cannot produce a poem, I will see you bleed on this very spot today!"

Facing the fury and accusations that threatened to swallow him whole, Xie Ning remained as calm as a still pond. He even had the leisure to pick at his ear.

"So noisy." He scanned the crowd, looking at the red-faced scholars, and shook his head. "What? Can you not handle hearing a few home truths? You all claim to be men of letters, yet you lack even this much poise? Or is it that your own standards are no better than his, and you can only produce such drivel?"

His words were a sweeping attack, offending every scholar present in a single breath.

"You... you..." The white-bearded old man was so choked with rage he could not speak, his entire body trembling as he pointed at Xie Ning.

"Good! Good! Good!" The Empress Dowager laughed in fury, repeating the word three times. "Xie Ning, today I have truly seen your arrogance. Since you look down on Young Master Yuwen’s poem so much, I shall listen with bated breath to your own work. If you cannot produce one, or if what you produce fails to impress, then today will not end with merely breaking your legs. I will have your entire household executed!"

Executed! Everyone gasped. The Empress Dowager was truly intent on murder!

At these words, Jia Yibo, who had been hiding in the crowd enjoying the show, was scared out of his wits. How did this drama suddenly involve him?

Li Qingning’s face turned deathly pale. She had not expected things to escalate to this point. Just as she was about to stand up to speak for Xie Ning, he waved a hand at her, signaling her to remain calm.

Then, he turned to face the crowd and smiled—a smile that was brilliant and full of confidence.

"Writing a poem? Is that all?"

He paced into the center of the Imperial Garden. He did not look at the blooming chrysanthemums, nor at the maple forest that burned like fire. He simply raised his head to look at the azure sky and the few leisurely white clouds drifting above.

He did not even pause to think. He simply opened his mouth and recited:

"After the fresh rain in the empty mountain,
The air of the autumn evening arrives."

Two simple lines, spoken with effortless grace. The voice was clear and crisp, reaching every ear.

The Imperial Garden fell into an instant silence. Those scholars who had been clamoring in anger only a moment ago found their expressions frozen the instant they heard these lines.

*After the fresh rain in the empty mountain, the air of the autumn evening arrives?*

What... what fresh and evocative imagery! A mere ten characters, yet it seemed to unfurl a beautiful painting of a mountain forest on an autumn evening after the rain before everyone’s eyes. The ethereal quality, the serenity, the sense of ease... it was refreshing to the soul.

Before they could recover from the atmosphere of those first two lines, Xie Ning’s voice rose once again:

"The bright moon shines among the pines,
The clear spring flows over the stones."

Boom! If the first two lines had left them stunned, these two were like a lightning bolt striking the very top of their heads.

The bright moon! The pine forest! The clear spring! The stones! Four of the simplest, most common images, combined to create such a breathtaking scene. Motion within stillness, stillness within motion. A painting within a poem, full of color and sound. This... this was the work of a god!

The scholars present were dumbfounded. They stood rooted to the spot, mouths slightly agape, the four lines echoing repeatedly in their minds.

*After the fresh rain in the empty mountain, the air of the autumn evening arrives.*
*The bright moon shines among the pines, the clear spring flows over the stones.*

It was too beautiful. Truly, it was too beautiful. The poetic realm they had spent their entire lives pursuing had been recited so nonchalantly by this youth they had dismissed as a waste.

Yuwen Yue’s face had gone sheet-white. His seven-character verse, which he had been so proud of, felt like mere mud on the ground compared to the bright moon in the sky before these four lines.