The Great Song Dynasty: You were put in charge of teaching, and you produced a whole bunch of prime

The examination hall reopened the following day.

If the first round of classical studies and policy discussions was a hand-to-hand combat with bayonets, then this second round of poetry and prose is a martial arts contest of inner strength.

The Song Dynasty valued literature over military prowess and was extremely romantic. A good score on a poetry exam, even if your policy essay was terrible, could earn you the title of "talented scholar," and you could even get a 20% discount when going to brothels.

Inside the examination room.

Su Shi sat in his cell, grinding ink, when his stomach growled.

Although the "Jingshi Brown Sugar Cocoa Cake" he ate last night was filling, it had now been digested, and he was starting to miss the mutton soup stall near the academy.

"I wonder what the gentleman is doing right now... he's probably lying down again."

Su Shi pursed his lips and looked up at the exam questions that had just been handed out.

There are only two words: 【Jiangnan】.

The shorter the title, the worse the situation.

This topic is too broad, it's boundless. Throughout history, there have been at least eight or ten thousand poems about Jiangnan. Bai Juyi wrote "The river flowers at sunrise are redder than fire," and Wei Zhuang wrote "Sleeping on a painted boat, listening to the rain."

Trying to write something new with so many excellent works already existing is like trying to wield a sledgehammer in a china shop—it's incredibly difficult.

A series of scratching sounds came from the next cell; clearly, many candidates had fallen into despair, wondering which ancient poet's ideas to copy.

Su Shi smiled.

He closed his eyes, and the image of Jiang Lin lying in a wicker chair, fanning himself with a folding fan, and saying something to them on a lazy afternoon half a month ago flashed through his mind.

……

"Writing poetry? What's so difficult about writing poetry?"

Jiang Lin pointed to the rain outside the window and said lightly, "Nowadays, scholars just pile up fancy words when describing scenery. 'Green trees,' 'red flowers,' 'painted pavilions'—it's all so vulgar."

"The truly top-notch description is synesthesia. You are writing about rain, but I hear the sound; you are writing about flowers, but I smell their fragrance."

"Zizhan, remember. Don't write 'Jiangnan is beautiful,' write 'You are in the rain in Jiangnan, and you don't want to wake up.'"

"I call this technique—a sense of camera presence."

……

"A natural ability to be in front of the camera..."

Su Shi suddenly opened his eyes, his wolf-hair brush fully dipped in thick ink.

He didn't need to think about fancy words; he just needed to reproduce the "images" his teacher taught him in words.

Instead of choosing the conventional seven-character regulated verse, he wrote a ci poem.

Title of the poem: "Looking South of the Yangtze River".

As the brush touched the paper, the ink spread across the rice paper, resembling a splashed-ink landscape painting.

……

Inside the examination room.

The atmosphere during this marking session was much more relaxed than the previous one. The examiners sipped tea while commenting on the candidates' poems.

"Hmm, this poem 'Remembering Jiangnan' is alright. 'Water villages, mountain towns, wine flags fluttering in the wind' is a good adaptation of Du Mu's poem, but it's still quite well-structured."

"This one won't do. It's too vulgar. The whole poem is full of 'pink and rouge' and 'red sleeves,' turning Jiangnan into a brothel."

Lord Han was frowning as he looked at a test paper when suddenly, Wang, the proctor in charge of patrolling, rushed in again with a test paper in his hand.

This time, he didn't fall, but his expression was even more exaggerated than if he had fallen.

"grown ups!!!"

The proctor's voice was practically splitting as he exclaimed, "A...a masterpiece!"

"A divine product?" Lord Han put down his teacup. "Old Wang, have you not been sleeping well these past few days? Why are you so easily startled?"

"No, sir! Look at this!"

Invigilator Wang spread the exam paper on the desk. "This word...this word is poisonous! I looked at it twice, and I feel like I'm soaked in sweat!"

Lord Han leaned closer, puzzled.

On the scroll, the handwriting is unrestrained and elegant, as if it could shine through the paper.

Looking South of the Yangtze River - Composed at Chaoran Terrace

Spring is not yet over, the wind is gentle and the willows sway. Let's climb to the top of Chaoran Terrace and see: half the moat is filled with spring water and the city is covered in flowers. Mist and rain shroud a thousand homes.

After reading the first stanza, Lord Han's brow twitched suddenly.

"Half a moat of spring water, a city of flowers, mist and rain shrouding a thousand homes..."

He closed his eyes, and it was as if he were instantly transported to the misty, rainy high-rise buildings of Jiangnan, with willow catkins and flying blossoms all over the city rushing towards him, the moist and slightly cool air feeling almost overwhelming.

That's what you call a sense of camera work! From the "gentle breeze and swaying willows" in the foreground, it instantly zooms out to "spring water in half a moat," and finally ends with a wide-angle shot of "misty rain obscuring thousands of homes."

Minimalist, yet exquisitely beautiful.

Lord Han took a deep breath and continued reading.

"After the Cold Food Festival, I awoke from my drunken stupor and sighed. Let us not dwell on old friends and the old country, but instead use the newly kindled fire to brew new tea. Let us enjoy poetry and wine while we are young."

boom!

The teacup in Lord Han's hand fell to the ground and shattered.

But he was completely unaware, frozen in place as if struck by lightning.

"Let's use the newly kindled fire to brew new tea... Enjoy poetry and wine while we're young..."

Lord Han muttered to himself, his eyes even turning a little red.

The emotional shift in the second stanza, from a touch of sadness to a final sense of liberation, conveys a profound feeling of "living in the moment" that strikes right at the soul!

Compared to those test takers who are still whining about "autumn melancholy and spring sorrow," this poem is on a completely different level!

"Who...who wrote this?"

A fellow examiner's voice trembled as he said, "This is absolutely not something a twenty-year-old could write! It's clearly an epiphany born from experiencing life's hardships!"

Invigilator Wang swallowed hard and pointed to the name obscured at the top of the exam paper: "Even though the name is covered, just look at the handwriting, and that undeniable 'ethereal' quality... Who else could it be but Su Shi?"

The examination room was deathly silent.

After a long while, Lord Han sighed and slumped into his chair.

"evildoer."

"This guy is a monster!"

Lord Han shook his head with a wry smile, "I originally thought his policy essays were the limit, but I didn't expect that his poetry... was his trump card."

"With this poem, there is no more poetry to be found in Jiangnan."

……

Outside the examination hall.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the exam.

The candidates poured out of the gate like prisoners being released for a stroll. Most of them were pale, clearly tormented by the overly broad and impractical question.

Zhao Yuanji was also in the crowd, his face grim. He had been struggling inside for a long time, writing a mediocre poem, "Ode to Jiangnan." Although the language was ornate, he knew it was utterly stale and unappealing.

As he was walking, he saw Su Shi eating a large pancake in front of him.

"Su Zizhan!"

Zhao Yuanji couldn't help but call out to him, "What...what did you write?"

With his mouth full of flatbread, Su Shi turned around and mumbled, "Huh? I just wrote down some random things about rain and tea. I'm starving, the food in this examination hall is terrible."

Zhao Yuanji was taken aback: "Rain? Tea? Such ordinary imagery?"

He was immediately delighted. It seemed Su Shi wasn't so great after all; he couldn't write about grand scenes, only trivial matters of daily life to fill space?

"Heh, that's true." Zhao Yuanji regained some confidence and sneered, "The Jiangnan region is so vast, how can it be encompassed by rainwater and tea? It seems that Jingshi Academy is nothing special after all."

Su Shi swallowed the cake with difficulty and gave him a strange look.

"Brother, as the master said, 'The greatest form is formless, and the greatest sound is silent.'"

Su Shi patted the crumbs off his hands and gave him a look that said, "You insist on writing 'Ten Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains,' that's a map, not a poem."

After saying that, he ignored Zhao Yuanji, who was frozen in place, and turned to rush towards the carriage that was already waiting in the distance.

There, Jiang Lin was lifting the curtain, holding a steaming cup of milk tea in his hand (yes, it was a new product developed by Qian Duoduo).

"Sir! I've missed you so much!" Su Shi cried as he rushed over. "I want to eat meat! I want to eat Dongpo pork!"

Jiang Lin disdainfully held Su Shi's head with his fan: "Stay away from me, you smell like crumbs."

"How did the exam go?" Jiang Lin asked casually.

"no problem."

Su Shi took the milk tea, gulped it down, and let out a loud burp. "According to the 'montage' writing technique you taught me, I reckon the examiner is probably questioning his life right now."

Jiang Lin smiled and lowered the curtain.

"Let's go home."

"Prepare for the third match. That's what's truly deadly."

The carriage slowly drove away, leaving Zhao Yuanji standing there, watching Su Shi's retreating figure, a sudden and extremely ominous premonition rising in his heart.

It seems he... got slapped in the face again?