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

Outside Bianjing city, dust billowed along the official road.

Three swift horses, kicking up clouds of yellow dust, headed straight for the Drunken Old Man's Pavilion outside Bianjing City.

Su Shi, riding on his horse, frowned, glancing back every now and then at Jiang Lin in front of him.

"Sir, are we really going?"

Su Shi tightened the reins and leaned close to Jiang Lin, whispering, "Didn't you say this literary gathering was a trap?"

"Zizhan, broaden your horizons." Jiang Lin tapped Su Shi's head with his folding fan. "Ouyang Xiu is an old friend of mine; we must give him face. As for those who want to cause trouble..."

A hint of mockery flashed in his eyes: "It's perfect that you're here. It saves me the trouble of searching for them one by one. I can just pack them all up at once and pack them up. It'll save me a lot of trouble."

Zeng Gong, who had been silent all along, added from the side, "Sir, you and Ouyang Xiu have known each other for a long time. With him around, I don't think there will be any major trouble. Besides..."

Zeng Gong paused for a moment, then said honestly, "I've heard that the wine at Zuiweng Pavilion is the best in Bianjing (Kaifeng)."

Jiang Lin laughed heartily: "Zigu really understands me! Let's go, let's go for a drink!"

Inside the Drunken Old Man's Pavilion, the sounds of string and wind instruments filled the air, and distinguished guests filled the room.

Jiang Lin and his entourage dismounted and straightened their clothes. Ouyang Xiu was already waiting in front of the pavilion.

This literary leader of the Song Dynasty was over fifty years old, with slightly graying hair and beard, but his eyes were bright and piercing, exuding an air of refined elegance.

Upon seeing Jiang Lin approach, Ouyang Xiu actually took two steps forward and bowed respectfully.

"Mr. Jiang has come from afar; I have failed to greet you properly."

This gesture is extremely significant.

The servants around them were stunned. Usually, it was others who paid homage to Lord Ouyang. When had they ever seen Lord Ouyang treat a commoner with such courtesy?

Jiang Lin dared not presume, and quickly bowed in return, his expression solemn:

"Master Ouyang, you flatter me. I am but a commoner, and it is truly an honor to be invited by you, sir."

Ouyang Xiu slowed his pace, gesturing for those to step back a few paces, before lowering his voice, his tone revealing an undisguised admiration:

"Mr. Jiang, you've really stirred up a hole in the sky in Bianjing these past few days."

Jiang Lin smiled faintly: "It's all thanks to Lord Bao's impartial enforcement of the law."

"Alright, stop with the bureaucratic talk." Ouyang Xiu waved his hand, his eyes bright. "hope Ren is a sharp blade, but without you holding the hilt, it won't reach Wang De's vital spot!"

After saying this, Ouyang Xiu laughed heartily and waved his sleeve:

"Enough! Today is a literary gathering; let's not let these court affairs spoil our refined enjoyment. Come, let me introduce you to some of the most outstanding writers of our Great Song Dynasty!"

He pulled Jiang Lin to his seat and pointed to a dignified middle-aged man on his left, saying:

"This is Wang Gui, a Hanlin Academician, whose writing is absolutely exquisite."

"This is Fan Zhen, a drafter of imperial edicts; he's a tough nut to crack."

"And this one, Han Jiang, a Doctor of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, is known as 'Master Han' because he is very learned."

The officials all rose to pay their respects. Although Jiang Lin was a commoner, his reputation had recently soared, and with Ouyang Xiu's high praise, everyone gave him ample face.

Su Shi's boisterous nature suddenly kicked in; after only a couple of cups of wine, he was wandering around with his wine cup in hand.

"Scholar Wang! I've heard so much about you! I heard you recently composed a new poem, 'Linjiang Xian'? That line about 'mandarin ducks on the water' is absolutely brilliant!"

Wang Gui was a little bewildered by the enthusiastic young man, and waved his hand with a smile: "Not at all, just a few words, nothing to mention. But I heard from Mr. Yongshu that you are also a talented writer with a brilliant pen?"

"No, no!" Su Shi scratched his head. "I was just writing randomly, and it was all thanks to my teacher's guidance."

On the other side, Zeng Gong sat quietly in the corner, burying his head in his food.

A servant brought over a plate of roast goose, and his eyes lit up; he immediately picked up his chopsticks. Someone nearby asked him, "Dr. Zeng, how is the food at the Drunken Old Man's Pavilion?"

Zeng Gong chewed on the goose meat and nodded earnestly: "Delicious."

The man then asked, "And what about the poem? What did you think of Scholar Wang's poem 'Inscription at the Drunken Old Man's Pavilion'?"

Zeng Gong thought for a moment and honestly said, "It's not as delicious as goose."

The whole room burst into laughter.

After several rounds of drinks and five courses of food,

When literary figures gather and drink too much, they start to act out—they insist on composing poetry.

Someone suggested, "Today's gathering shouldn't be without poetry. This is the Drunken Old Man's Pavilion, so why don't we each compose a poem on the theme of 'An Elegant Gathering in the Pavilion'?"

Everyone cheered.

As a Hanlin Academician, Wang Gui naturally spoke first. He pondered for a moment, then shook his head and said:

Wildflowers bloom with a subtle fragrance, and fine trees flourish with abundant shade. The wind and frost are pure and clean, and the water recedes to reveal the rocks. Each season in the mountains has its own unique charm...

He directly quoted a famous line from Ouyang Xiu's "Record of the Drunken Pavilion," and elaborated on it, creating a beautiful and profound work.

"Excellent! Scholar Wang is indeed a man of great talent!"

Fan Zhen, not to be outdone, stood up and recited:

"Outside the pavilion, green hills stand like painted screens; inside, refined scholars gather, all kindred spirits. Music, chess, calligraphy, and painting are all elegant pursuits; poetry, wine, and prose resonate through the ages."

The crowd applauded and cheered.

Someone suggested, "How can today's literary gathering be complete without Su Shi's poetry? The top scholar, who achieved the highest honors in all three levels of the imperial examinations, must show off his talent!"

Su Shi was already seven-tenths drunk and was pushed to the center of the room by the crowd.

He steadied himself, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, and suddenly burst into laughter:

"You all want to hear poetry? Poetry is too refined, not satisfying enough. Today, I, Su Shi—will sing a song!"

Having said that, he grabbed a jar of wine, tilted his head back and took a big gulp, then stepped onto the table, his clothes fluttering, looking exactly like a "banished immortal".

He began to sing his self-composed "Song of the Great Song Dynasty":

"The Yellow River flows, the Yangtze River surges, the vast land exudes a majestic aura!"

"Scholars wield their pens like spears, pointing out the merits and demerits of the nation!"

"Though the halls of power are high and the world of martial arts distant, my noble spirit endures!"

"In the Great Song Dynasty, with its flourishing literary tradition, it is time for us, the young and unrestrained, to indulge in our passions!"

The words and phrases are not particularly refined, but they are powerful and unrestrained in their expression.

The audience was astonished. Some frowned, thinking it was too arrogant; some clapped and cheered; and some burst into laughter.

Ouyang Xiu stroked his beard and laughed heartily: "What a fine 'We, the young, are in the prime of our lives, indulging in unrestrained passion'! Zizhan truly lives up to my expectations!"

After Su Shi finished singing, he jumped off the table and plopped back down in his seat. Zeng Gong, standing beside him, sighed and said, "Senior brother, can you please be a little more composed...?"

Su Zhe silently poured him a cup of tea: "Wake up."

Su Shi chuckled: "That's great!"

Jiang Lin watched from the side, a slight smile playing on his lips, and took a small sip of wine.

This is what the Song Dynasty should have been like: vibrant, unrestrained, and brimming with talent.

Unconventional and unrestrained.

Ouyang Xiu raised his wine cup and said loudly, "Excellent! It's a rare gathering today, let's drink until we're drunk!"

Everyone responded enthusiastically, and the atmosphere became increasingly lively.

Some people started playing the piano, while others started wielding their brushes and ink.

Su Shi simply took off his shoes and wandered around the pavilion barefoot, muttering to himself, seemingly pondering some new verse.

Zeng Gong remained as steady as a mountain, engrossed in eating a plate of braised pork, occasionally glancing up at the commotion before continuing to eat.

Jiang Lin was pulled aside by several scholars who asked him to compose a poem as well.

He thought for a moment, then smiled and said, "Since we have gathered here today, I will make a fool of myself."

He stood up, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, and slowly began to speak:

"A gathering of wise men at the Drunken Old Man's Pavilion, each excelling in poetry and wine. Do not say that writing must be restrained, for the spirit of the Song Dynasty lies in its unrestrained passion."

The voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear.

Upon hearing this, a strange light flashed in Ouyang Xiu's eyes.

"What a magnificent display of Song Dynasty grandeur!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands in admiration. "Mr. Jiang, this is the kind of person you should be!"

Fan Zhen nodded: "This line of poetry has spirit."

Wang Gui raised his glass directly: "Mr. Jiang is indeed extraordinary! Come, let me toast you!"

Everyone toasted and drank until the moon was high in the sky.

The night was as still as water, and a cool breeze was blowing.

The shadows of the trees outside the pavilion swayed gently, while the candlelight inside flickered.

Literati gathered in twos and threes, composing poems, playing the zither, writing calligraphy, engaging in lively discussions, or drinking heartily.

The entire Drunken Old Man's Pavilion seemed to have become a secluded paradise.

Jiang Lin leaned against a pillar, holding a wine glass, watching the scene before him, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

The literati of the Song Dynasty certainly possessed a unique charm.

It's not the kind of rigid, cautious, and pedantic air of later generations, but a true sense of integrity and uninhibited spirit.

Dare to think, dare to speak, dare to act.

It has pride, but also warmth.

……

Just as he was enjoying this rare moment of peace, he suddenly heard a noisy commotion coming from the doorway.

"Get out of the way! Everyone get out of the way!"

That shout woke up half of the group, who were already somewhat drunk.

The music abruptly stopped.

A deep, hoarse voice then rang out, carrying a chilling undertone:

"Lord Ouyang, you have quite the refined taste, hosting such a grand banquet for your guests here. Why didn't you invite this old man?"

Everyone turned to look.

A group of people walked in through the door.

The leader was an elderly man in his sixties, dressed in impeccable official robes. His face was as stern as a granite block, and his triangular eyes were scanning the entire room with a sinister look.

Behind him followed more than a dozen Imperial Academy Doctors, each with their noses in the air and nostrils pointing to the sky, their intentions clearly hostile.

The once bustling Drunken Pavilion suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

Jiang Lin put down his wine glass and slowly straightened his cuffs.

Then, he slowly raised his head, a lazy smile on his face, and looked at Liu Chang indifferently:

"Master Liu, since you're here, please have a seat."

"Aren't you tired of standing and talking?"