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

The brief rest only made the atmosphere in Fanlou even more tense.

The first crushing defeat in the Confucian classics debate left the faces of the Imperial Academy's professors as black as the bottom of a pot. Liu Chang sat in his armchair, his teacup creaking in his hand.

"The second event is poetry."

Ouyang Xiu's voice broke the silence: "The Imperial Academy will set the questions, and each side will send one person to answer. The time limit is one incense stick's time."

Liu Chang took a deep breath, suppressing the anger in his chest. His cold gaze swept over the seats in Jingshi Academy, finally settling on Su Shi, who looked eager to try.

"Title: Ode to the Moon. Any poetic form is acceptable."

These words caused an uproar in the room.

"Praising the moon? That's so cliché!"

"Commonplace? This is called 'the greatest truths are the simplest!' Countless masterpieces have been written about the moon by our predecessors—Li Bai, Du Fu, Bai Juyi…which one hasn't written about it? To stand out on this topic is as difficult as ascending to heaven!"

"Liu, the Imperial Academy Chancellor, is trying to use the wisdom of his predecessors to overshadow Su Shi!"

Jing Shi Academy.

Su Zhe sighed and looked at Liu Chang with an expression as if he were looking at a dead man.

Zeng Gong turned to look at Su Zhe beside him, his eyes filled with a strange expression: "What do you mean?"

"He chose 'moon' out of a thousand choices. If he had chosen 'dog,' perhaps he could have lived a little longer." Su Zhe sighed, giving Liu Chang a look as if he were looking at a dead man: "This topic is too broad, without any rules to bind us."

"Liu Chang isn't just setting a question; he's loosened the reins. Now... no one can stop my brother."

Ignoring the discussion, Liu Chang turned to his back and said, "Dr. Chen, come here."

A lean scholar in his forties slowly rose. Dr. Chen was the foremost scholar of poetry at the Imperial Academy.

Su Shi could no longer contain himself and strode toward the answer table, his posture more like going to a banquet than writing poetry.

The incense burner is lit, and wisps of smoke rise.

Dr. Chen pondered for a moment, then picked up his pen and began to write. He was clearly well-prepared; his pen moved swiftly and gracefully, and in less than half an incense stick's time, he put down his pen and blew on the ink with a smug expression.

In contrast, Su Shi did not change a single word.

He stood before the desk, his hands behind his back, staring blankly at the sky through the window of Fanlou.

In the Imperial Academy's seating area, the scholars exchanged glances, a mocking smile playing on their lips.

The time it takes for an incense stick to burn passes in the blink of an eye.

"Time's up," Ouyang Xiu announced.

Dr. Chen was the first to stand up, unfold the answer sheet, clear his throat, and read it aloud:

"The poem is titled 'Linjiangxian,' and it is a poem about the moon—"

"The Milky Way stretches far into the long autumn night, the icy moon hangs high in the azure sky. Its clear light shines across ten thousand miles, illuminating the curtains. The fragrance of osmanthus wafts through the jade palace, and the moon's shadow falls on the paulownia tree."

"Since ancient times, the waxing and waning of the moon have been a constant theme; who can truly share in our joys and sorrows, our partings and reunions? I raise my cup to the moon and question the heavens. Chang'e must harbor resentment, alone in her cold palace."

After the reading was completed, cheers immediately erupted from the students in the Imperial Academy.

"Great! Brilliant!"

"The moon hangs high, its clear light shines for ten thousand miles—the opening lines are full of grandeur!"

"The ending line, 'Chang'e must have felt resentment,' is both a praise of the moon and an expression of emotion, a double entendre that is enough to be passed down through the ages!"

Liu Chang stroked his beard and smiled, then announced loudly, "Dr. Chen's poem is perfectly metrically correct and possesses a lofty artistic conception. In today's poetry battle at Fanlou, the Imperial Academy will surely prevail!"

The PhD students chimed in, deliberately raising their voices as if afraid the person on the other end wouldn't hear them:

"Of course! Let alone Su Shi, even if Ouyang Xiu himself were to take the stage, he might not be able to win!"

Liu Chang turned to look at Su Shi and sneered:

"Young Master Su, you didn't write a single word just now. Could it be... that you were overwhelmed by Dr. Chen's masterpiece?"

The Imperial Academy scholars burst into laughter:

"Although Young Master Su is the top scholar, he is still young and his experience is limited."

"I've heard that Young Master Su is usually unrestrained and wild, why is he mute today?"

"No wonder. There are countless excellent works on the theme of 'Ode to the Moon' from before; it's not so easy to create something outstanding."

One young PhD student was even more sarcastic:

"Isn't Young Master Su known as a 'once-in-a-millennium poetic genius'? How come staring at the moon is your poetry? Is this the 'practical application of knowledge' of the Jing Shi Academy?"

The laughter grew louder, and even whispers could be heard among the scholars watching.

Su Shi remained silent, but the smile on his face grew increasingly pronounced.

Jiang Lin picked up his teacup and slowly took a sip, as if everything on stage had nothing to do with him.

"Young Master Su," Ouyang Xiu said, a hint of expectation in his eyes, "please read your answer sheet."

Su Shi then slowly stood up.

He didn't take the answer sheet—because it was indeed completely blank.

There was another burst of laughter from the Imperial Academy: "As expected, he didn't write it!"

Su Shi walked to the center of the room, stood with his hands behind his back, glanced at Dr. Chen, and smiled faintly:

"Dr. Chen's poem is a masterpiece, with its perfect meter and beautiful language."

Just as Dr. Chen was about to say a few words of modesty, Su Shi suddenly changed the subject:

"Unfortunately... the scope is too narrow, like a woman's." Dr. Chen's expression changed: "What did you say?!"

Su Shi shook his head and sighed: "'Chang'e must have resentment'? 'Alone in the Moon Palace'? It's that same old lament of women confined to their chambers."

"Dr. Chen, you are a man, and moreover, a scholar of the Song Dynasty. Is all you see merely those pitiful, sorrowful laments of women in their boudoirs?"

"You!" Dr. Chen roared, "What else should we write about when we talk about the moon but not Chang'e? You write one yourself and let me see!"

Su Shi burst into laughter, abruptly ripping open his collar to reveal his unrestrained and wild demeanor:

"Alright! Today I'll show you what true masculinity is! What it means to have... the power to swallow a thousand miles of land like a tiger!"

Su Shi grabbed the specially made giant brush and dipped it in thick ink.

Instead of using drumsticks, he stomped his feet directly on the ground, producing a heavy, muffled "thump, thump" sound, like the beating of a war drum.

As he wrote in a frenzied, cursive style, he roared out, his voice like raging waves crashing against the shore:

"The mighty river flows eastward, its waves sweeping away countless heroes of the past!"

boom!

This opening line alone was like a heavy hammer blow, striking everyone's heart.

No moon? No, its grandeur surpasses even the moon!

The Imperial Academy scholars, who were originally prepared to mock them, froze on their faces, feeling a desolate and domineering aura wash over them, making it hard for them to breathe.

Su Shi's brushstrokes flowed like dragons and snakes, ink splashing and staining his white robe black, yet he remained completely unaware:

"West of the old fortress, it is said, lies the Red Cliffs of Zhou Yu of the Three Kingdoms!"

"Jagged rocks pierce the sky, surging waves crash against the shore, churning up thousands of piles of snow!"

Inside Fanlou, hundreds of candles flickered wildly, as if shaken by the raging storm described in the poem.

The people present seemed to see not Fanlou, but the ancient battlefield where "the masts and forts were reduced to ashes"!

When Su Shi was engrossed in writing, he threw down his pen, looked up to the sky, and let out a long roar:

"The landscape is as beautiful as a painting; how many heroes have emerged in this era!"

It’s too shocking!

This isn't writing lyrics, it's writing history! It's writing about heaven and earth!

Su Shi turned around abruptly, his gaze sharp as lightning.

Who says you have to write about Chang'e when you're writing about the moon?

His voice lowered, carrying endless vicissitudes and philosophical thoughts, as he slowly uttered the second half of the poem:

"Thinking back to Gongjin in his prime, when Xiao Qiao had just married him, he was a man of great talent and charisma. With a feather fan and a silk turban, he commanded troops with ease, and enemy ships were reduced to ashes in the midst of laughter and conversation."

"My thoughts wander to my homeland; those who are sentimental should laugh at me for my prematurely gray hair."

Finally, he raised his wine cup, faced the lonely moon, and poured the wine on the ground, ending his poem with this gesture.

"Life is but a dream, let us offer a libation to the moon reflected in the river!"

Dead silence.

A deathly silence.

In this poem, the word "moon" only appears in the last two characters.

But this line, "I offer a libation to the moon over the river," encapsulates all the heroic spirit, historical sentiment, and sense of vicissitudes that preceded it, all within that unchanging moon over the river.

This is the real moon!

This is the moon that shone upon Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu of Han, and it shone upon Zhou Yu and Zhuge Liang!

Su Shi smashed the wine cup violently, sending shards flying everywhere.

With a wave of his sleeve, he pointed to the lonely moon in the sky, his voice booming like a great bell, making everyone's eardrums ache:

"Only a moon that can hold the weight of a thousand years of rise and fall deserves to be called—the Moon of the Great Song Dynasty!"

Just as everyone was still immersed in this boundless and heroic spirit—

"OK!!"

A clear, sweet cheer suddenly rang out.

Everyone turned around in astonishment.

In the crowd, a handsome young man in fine clothes was covering his mouth, his face flushed.

Seeing everyone staring at him, the young master hurriedly puffed out his chest, deliberately lowered his voice, and adopted a spoiled, arrogant tone:

"Ahem... What are you looking at! I'm saying, it's really well written! It's exactly what I like! I'll reward you!"

To solidify her status as "Master," she hastily tore off a priceless nine-dragon jade pendant from her waist and tossed it onto the stage like a pebble. Then, pulling her tearful pageboy back into the crowd, she made a fierce, bluffing gesture.

"What are you all standing there for! Clap!"

This commotion completely ignited the atmosphere in the room.

"good!!!"

"Amazing! Absolutely amazing!!"

"Once this poem was written, no other poem about the moon could compare!"

"Su Zizhan! Su Zizhan!!"

Ouyang Xiu trembled all over, and tears streamed down his face with emotion:

"The mighty river flows eastward, its waves sweeping away countless heroes of the past... Such magnanimity, such spirit! My life has been worthwhile! Absolutely worthwhile!"

The Imperial Academy was deathly silent.

Dr. Chen's face was ashen, and his hands trembled. Compared to this "Nian Nu Jiao," his poem "Linjiang Xian" was like a firefly vying for the moon's brilliance.

No, it's not even as good as a firefly, it's practically dust!

Liu Chang's mouth hung open, unable to close it for a long time. Those scholars who had just been mocking Su Shi were now all blushing, wishing they could bury their faces in their crotches.

Zeng Gong and Su Zhe sat below the stage, watching the stunned expressions on the faces of the audience, and simultaneously picked up their teacups and took a sip.

Zeng Gong said calmly, "That feels good."

Su Zhe nodded: "Yes, Liu Jijiu died peacefully."

In the crowd, an elderly man with white hair stood up, bowed deeply to Su Shi, and then knelt down:

"I've spent my whole life reading books, and only today do I truly understand what a 'celestial being of poetry' is!"

Ouyang Xiu finally calmed down. He took a deep breath and announced in a trembling voice:

"Second round – Jing Shi Academy wins! And it's a resounding victory!"

"Su Shi's poem is undoubtedly a masterpiece for all time. I assert that for the next thousand years, no one will surpass him in poems about the moon and reflections on the past!"

The seats at the Imperial Academy were deathly silent.

Two losses in two battles.

And each defeat was worse than the last, they were practically being humiliated.

Liu Chang trembled violently, his face turning from deathly pale to ashen. He couldn't afford to lose, he truly couldn't afford to lose. If he lost three matches in a row, the Imperial Academy's century-old reputation would be ruined in his hands today!

"There's one more match!"

Liu Chang suddenly stood up, his eyes bloodshot, and roared hysterically, "And policy essays! Policy essays are the foundation of governing a country! Poetry... poetry is nothing but a trivial skill, a minor art!!"

"Yes! Compare strategies!" The scholars from the Imperial Academy, as if grasping at the last straw, began to shout.

Jiang Lin, who had been silent all along, finally stood up.

He straightened his clothes and snapped the folding fan shut.

"Chancellor Liu is right."

Jiang Lin slowly walked to the center of the arena, his gaze sweeping over the exasperated Imperial Academy scholars. A playful smile curved his lips, and his eyes instantly sharpened like knives.

"Poetry is indeed a minor art. Since you disagree—"

He pointed to himself, his voice not loud, but clearly carrying throughout the room:

"Then I'll personally play with you in the next game."

"Let me tell you what the real... 'Road to Heaven' is."