Madam, don't do this!

Chapter 350 The East Wind Blows a Thousand Trees of Flowers at Night (1)

"Brother-in-law, could you write a poem for me?"

At this moment, Luo Tianyi lost her usual icy demeanor, and her voice softened.

She doesn't understand poetry.

The Luo family is certainly not bad. Although she is a girl, she has had to listen to the teacher's lectures with Luo Tianshu and others since she was a child. It's not that she didn't want to learn, but the teacher's words were full of classical Chinese, which made Luo Tianyi drowsy. Whatever she heard with her left ear would slip out with her right ear. It would just go around in her mind and then disappear completely.

Therefore, although he had little literary background, he understood what the poem presented to him represented.

A man presenting a poem to a woman signifies that he has feelings for her.

If the woman accepts, it means she accepts this affection.

The sons of the powerful and wealthy often gathered to hold poetry gatherings, which could, in some ways, be considered matchmaking events. Luo Tianyi hadn't attended many, but she had heard about them quite a bit. For example, Princess Gaoyang was particularly fond of holding poetry gatherings to act as a matchmaker for unmarried men and women.

She couldn't tell whether Xue Yu's Lantern Festival poem was good or bad, but in any case, she had no intention of accepting it. Compared to Xue Yu's Lantern Festival poem, she still felt that her brother-in-law's work was better.

Although my brother-in-law doesn't write many poems, every single one of them is excellent.

She didn't understand why she had made such a rash request, and by the time she realized it, it was too late.

These words also reached the ears of Xue Yu and the other young masters.

For a moment, the sourness made my teeth ache.

What did this beautiful lady just call this man?
Brother-in-law?

Oh my god.

Damn it.

Judging from this young lady's appearance, her sister must be quite beautiful as well.

Marrying his older sister wasn't enough, he even wanted to marry his sister-in-law... Such thoughts were usually just something they dared to dream about, so they couldn't help but look at Song Yan with envy and jealousy.

Looking at Song Yan's attire, it was quite ordinary.

For these young masters, it was immediately obvious that Song Yan was not a scholar and lacked the refined air of someone who had been immersed in the world of literature for a long time.

His face wasn't particularly fair, but he stood tall and had a rugged, martial air about him.

Asking a martial artist to compose poetry and lyrics? Could it be that this sister-in-law doesn't actually have any feelings for her brother-in-law and is deliberately making things difficult for him?
Thinking to himself, Xue Yu still possessed a composure beyond his years. He hadn't been too keen on talking to Song Yan, but now that his good deed had been ruined, he wasn't too angry. Instead, he cupped his hands in greeting to Song Yan and said, "Greetings, brother."

"Please." Song Yan returned the greeting.

"Brother, can you also compose poetry? There are brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones on the pleasure boat. Why don't you compose one so that we can see your masterpiece?"

As Xue Yu finished speaking, another voice came from the side: "Indeed, indeed. Today is the Lantern Festival, a perfect time to compose poems and lyrics. Writing poems and lyrics is a way to cultivate one's character. Even if your poems and lyrics are not as good as others, you don't need to worry."

"Judging from your demeanor, you are clearly a man of great learning. Today, we also have three of the most beautiful courtesans from the Jade Garden. Why don't you come aboard the painted boat for a chat, so that we may admire your brilliance? Please don't say that you are not good at poetry and literature. With your demeanor, we do not believe you."

"You wouldn't even give me this much face, would you?"

"Could it be that you look down on us?"

The two spoke in unison, but their words were actually meant to belittle Song Yan.

At some point, it became clear that if Song Yan refused to compose a poem, it meant he looked down on the scholars of Dongling. He was a bit more difficult to deal with than Yang Miaoqing's sons.

Luo Tianyi felt a little annoyed. She had just lost her mind and blurted out those words. Now that she thought about it, she realized that she had been a bit rash. She had heard her older brother and Tianquan say that writing poetry and lyrics depended on inspiration. If you didn't have inspiration, you couldn't write anything even if you were very learned.

Could I have accidentally caused trouble for my brother-in-law?
If her brother-in-law couldn't write it, wouldn't that be embarrassing? Thinking this, she felt even more guilty and gently tugged at Song Yan's sleeve: "Brother-in-law, let's write it when we get home."

This is a bit ambiguous, but at least it saves face for the brother-in-law.

As for herself, she has never cared about other people's gossip.

Song Yan understood Luo Tianyi's meaning, and subconsciously, he reached out and patted Luo Tianyi's head, smiling as he said, "Writing lyrics is no problem."

“I’m afraid that once I’ve written my Lantern Festival poem, it will be difficult to write Lantern Festival poems again.”

hiss.

Upon hearing this, a collective gasp of astonishment rippled through the crowd.

Many scholars and young masters, as well as the prostitutes and entertainers on the painted boat, and even Ziyu who was beside Song Yan, all looked at Song Yan with strange eyes!
Madness!

Is he saying that once his poem is published, it will become an insurmountable peak for Lantern Festival poetry? From now on, all Lantern Festival poems will be overshadowed by him?

Where did this madman come from?

How dare they spout such nonsense?
Even Ziyu knew that Song Yan was indeed quite accomplished in poetry. She greatly admired the lines "The bright moon was there then, once shining on the returning colorful clouds," "Falling flowers, a person stands alone; light rain, swallows fly in pairs," and "Becoming a marquis is not my intention; I only wish for calm seas." These were all masterpieces that could be passed down for thousands of years.

However, to say that one person wrote all the poems for the Lantern Festival is ultimately an exaggeration.

This is not just looking down on the ancients, but also looking down on all scholars in Ningguo today, and even on scholars in the future.

How can someone be so arrogant?
With Song Yan's mouth, how has he managed to survive until now?
Those young masters who had been able to maintain their smiles were now unable to keep up, their fake smiles vanishing and their faces darkening.

Xue Yu chuckled and said, "Young master, it's good to be confident, but you're underestimating everyone in the world."

Song Yan remained silent, only a faint smile curving his lips.

That slightly mocking smile made the surrounding scholars lose their composure and their faces turned even uglier. Some even shouted that they shouldn't let him get away and that he looked down on all scholars.

Stealing your sister-in-law right in front of us? Do you think we need to give you any face? So what if we look down on you scholars? Besides, compared to great figures like Li Bai, Du Fu, Su Dongpo, and Xin Qiji, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that everyone here is trash.

Seeing the surrounding noise grow louder, Xue Yu's smile deepened: "Brother, it seems you've already angered everyone. If you don't leave behind a good poem, you might not be able to leave."

Song Yan didn't care much, smiled, and walked towards the painted boat in Qunyu Garden.

Ziyu and Luotianyi quickly followed.

On the pleasure boat, a variety of expressions unfolded. Many beautiful women stared at the eccentric scholar, some with surprise, some with curiosity, and some with pity. Some even harbored a hint of schadenfreude, wanting to see Song Yan make a fool of himself. With the help of those who wanted to spread the word, the story quickly spread, and even other pleasure boats nearby learned that a madman who looked down on all scholars had appeared at Qunyu Garden. One after another, the pleasure boats drew closer to him.

Even the riverbank was crowded with onlookers, three or four layers deep, all curious about what kind of masterpiece this madman could write.

"Xiao Ping, bring the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone."

Upon arriving at the painted boat, Ziyu waved and summoned a young woman.

The girls in Qunyu Garden naturally recognized Ziyu, and immediately a petite girl with a round, chubby face, exuding a playful and adorable charm, went to prepare. In a flash, Luo Tianyi tilted her head, her clear eyes fixed on Song Yan. For some reason, Song Yan felt immense pressure, as if he had become a suspect awaiting trial.

His fair and delicate face revealed no emotion. After a few moments, Luo Tianyi withdrew his gaze: "So, that girl is Xiao Ping. She is indeed a petite and adorable girl. No wonder you can't forget her. I just wonder when your brother-in-law arrived in Dongling?"

Song Yan's eyelids immediately drooped. What on earth is all this?

Just because she's called Xiao Ping, does that mean she's related to me? And I still can't forget her?

Ziyu, however, covered her mouth and chuckled softly from the side: "Tianyi, you may not know this, but ever since your poem 'Linjiang Xian' spread throughout the country, there have been many girls named Xiaoping in Ningguo, especially in brothels, pleasure boats, and entertainment venues."

"That girl wasn't originally called that."

"What's that called?"

"Call her Xiao Hong."

Okay, Song Yan understands now. It was that phrase, "I remember when I first met Xiao Ping," that caused the trouble.

I glanced around the pleasure boat. Inside, there were several rooms, mostly used by the courtesans of the Qunyu Garden for rest. Even distinguished guests were not allowed to enter.

The courtesan was different from ordinary prostitutes.

Although they entertained customers, they mostly performed music, dance, and sang, and drank tea and wine; their services did not include sleeping with customers. Those who became top courtesans were all exceptional in appearance, figure, and talent. Although they came from brothels, they were not people anyone could meet. Often, wealthy young men would spend lavishly, yet still fail to even get a glimpse of them. Whenever such stories spread, the courtesan's value would soar again. Therefore, Song Yan strongly suspected that the so-called wealthy young men were likely shills hired by the courtesan herself.

The commotion even alerted the courtesans, and three alluring and graceful women emerged from their chambers, eager to see who this arrogant scholar who looked down on all scholars was. The appearance of the three courtesans further heightened the atmosphere.

Song Yan glanced at them casually and lost interest. The three courtesans were indeed beautiful, but they were still slightly inferior to his sister-in-law and Ziyu.

Amidst the commotion, Xiao Ping prepared her brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

"Young master, please." Xue Yu said with a smile.

Song Yan sat down at the table, while Zi Yu ground ink beside him. All eyes were on Song Yan, and no one noticed that on the shore, a figure mingled in the densest part of the crowd. Unlike the others, he did not wear a sneer; his eyes were like those of a venomous snake.

There were also rustling sounds all around:
Do you really think he can write any good lyrics?

"How could that be? Even if he were better, he wouldn't be as good as Young Master Xue. Young Master Xue is one of the four great talents of Dongling City, especially skilled in poetry. How could this little kid who appeared out of nowhere compare to him?"

"That's not quite right. As the saying goes, the greatest hermits live in the city. There are many talented people in the city, so we should not underestimate the heroes of the world... Of course, it's true that this guy is very arrogant."

"I even want to hit him."

“We are all scholars, and it would be too crude of us to resort to violence. He probably can’t write anything good. It would be good enough if he could write a doggerel. When that time comes, I will definitely make fun of him.”

"Haha, you're quite honest."

Just then, Song Yan finally brought down the brush in his hand.

The crowd whispered amongst themselves, all gloating.

However, the expressions of the people beside Song Yan suddenly changed, judging a book by its cover.

Song Yan's brushstrokes flowed like dragons and snakes, the beginning strokes were crisp and vigorous, the middle strokes were strong and powerful, and the ending strokes were as light as floating clouds and as graceful as startled dragons; at the turns, the ink seeped in, connecting the tendons and bones with light or heavy, slow or fast strokes, forming a unique sense of rhythm.

Putting aside the quality of the lyrics, this calligraphy alone is enough to astound many scholars. Even the best calligrapher among them would pale in comparison to this running script.

It is Wang Xizhi's running script.

How could someone who can write such beautiful characters be a crude and uncouth brute?
Xue Yu's expression turned grim; he realized he had probably really messed up.

Standing beside Song Yan, Zi Yu noticed that the other pleasure boats on the shore were filled with scholars and young ladies, all craning their necks to see what kind of masterpiece Song Yan could produce. She then began to read aloud:
"Green Jade Table... Lantern Festival!"

It is, however, a poem.

As each character emerged from Song Yan's pen, Zi Yu's expression grew increasingly solemn:

"The east wind at night releases a thousand trees of flowers..."

Upon hearing the first line, the expressions of the scholars around changed once again, especially Xue Yu, who felt a sense of foreboding. Although it is said that there is no first place in literature, but no second in martial arts, the difference between truly good and bad poetry is immediately apparent upon reading. This line, however, had clearly reached a higher level, vividly depicting a scene, far surpassing his first line.

Many scholars turned to look and saw that on Chang'an Street not far away, fireworks seemed to ignite thousands of trees with lights, and sparks fell like stars.

At this moment, the second sentence appeared:
"The wind blows down, and stars fall like rain."

hiss!
In an instant, countless scholars broke out in goosebumps.

Turning around again, one could see noble carriages passing by, and the air filled with fragrance.

"The road is filled with the fragrance of BMW's carved carriages..."

Painted boats surrounded the area, melodious music filled the air, and the moon shone brightly in the reflections on the water.
"The sound of phoenix flutes stirs, the jade pot's light turns..."

On the fourth glance, I saw colorful lanterns shaped like fish and dragons hanging high above the painted boat; as the night breeze blew, the dragons seemed to leap and the fish to fly.
"A night of fish and dragon dance!"

……

Just then, the man who had been hiding in the crowd slowly raised his arm and aimed it at Song Yan, who was a few dozen steps away and was exhaling slightly.

What was inside was hidden by the wide sleeves.

Only the cuffs revealed a hint of cold light.

That was a crossbow.

Military use, hand crossbow!
(End of this chapter)