I'm coming clean: I'm the reincarnation of the God of Literature.

April 1st, Qinghe County Confucian Temple.

Gu Ang led Gu Ci across the high threshold.

Ancient cypress trees tower in the courtyard, their canopies blocking out the sun. Inside the Dacheng Hall, incense smoke curls upwards, and a statue of Confucius, the Sage of Literature, is enshrined, creating an atmosphere of solemnity and reverence.

Today is a literary gathering, and the venue is located in the side hall.

Dozens of scholars in blue robes had already gathered inside the hall, and there were even two or three officials who had passed the imperial examinations.

They gathered in small groups, some quietly admiring the calligraphy and paintings hanging on the wall, others holding teacups and engaging in lively discussions, each with a touch of scholarly aloofness on their faces.

The appearance of the Gu brothers caused a subtle change in the originally harmonious atmosphere in the hall.

The buzzing of discussion subsided.

Dozens of eyes were cast over.

Some were curious, some scrutinizing, some disdainful, while others merely glanced at it before turning away immediately, pretending not to care at all.

"Is he Gu Ci?"

"She's not even as tall as my leg, how could she possibly write a poem like 'River Snow'?"

"Who knows? Maybe someone ghostwrote it and used him to gain fame."

The whispers were not loud, but every word reached Gu Ang's ears.

He frowned and instinctively shielded Gu Ci behind him, his tall figure blocking the unfriendly gazes.

Just then, a scholar dressed in a moon-white long gown walked over with a smile; it was Zhang Yan.

Behind him followed several scholars who were on good terms with him, each of them putting on airs and acting like seniors.

One of the plump scholars spoke up, "Oh my, isn't this the young prodigy Gu? I've long admired your name; seeing you today, you truly are as lovely as jade."

Gu Ci stepped out from behind Gu Ang and returned the greeting in an adult's manner: "Student Gu Ci greets Mr. Zhang and all the gentlemen."

Zhang Yan nodded gently: "Young sir, you are too kind. It is truly an honor for us that you could attend this meeting in the serene Confucian Temple."

Fatty Xiu immediately chimed in, "The path of literature is arduous and long. Early success often breeds arrogance and restlessness."

Another tall, thin scholar shook his head in agreement: "Yes, humility is the key to long-term success."

Zhang Yan coughed lightly at the opportune moment: "Gentlemen, please don't frighten the young master."

He turned to Gu Ci, his tone still gentle, "Young master, you are new to the literary gathering; we should take good care of you."

That's what he said, but the smile on his face didn't seem genuine at all.

The scholars around him nodded in understanding.

"Brother Zhang is right, we should take good care of him."

"Young people, they can learn at their own pace."

Gu Ang was furious when he heard this, and his fists clenched tightly.

These people are clearly here to cause trouble!

Gu Ci remained calm, tilting his head back and nodding earnestly.

"Mr. Zhang's teachings are indeed wise. I am young and inexperienced, and I have come to this literary gathering today precisely to learn from you gentlemen and broaden my horizons."

His words were impeccable, both accepting the other party's "advice" and demonstrating his humble and eager-to-learn attitude, which left Zhang Yan speechless with all the words he had prepared.

Zhang Yan's smile froze for a moment, then he said, "Good! You've shown some awareness; you're teachable!"

He pulled Gu Ci along and warmly led him to an empty seat inside the hall.

The scholars also gathered around, each wearing a concerned smile, but their intentions were actually quite cunning.

"What books does this little prodigy usually read?"

"Do you have any Buddhist scriptures or classics at home?"

"Have you ever had a tutor?"

Every question carried a probing tone, an attempt to ascertain Gu Ci's background.

Outside the Confucian Temple, it was already packed with people.

"It's started! The literary gathering has begun!"

"I wonder if the child prodigy will write another poem today?"

"I doubt it. The Confucian Temple is full of proper scholars and officials who study classical texts and literature. It's not like a place like Wangjiang Tower."

The teahouses and taverns along Zhuque Street were bustling with activity.

"Place your bets! Place your bets! The betting is open! Will the gambling prodigy Gu Ci make a name for himself at the literary gathering today?" a man in a short jacket shouted at the top of his lungs.

"I bet on him! How could someone appreciated by the princess be anything less than excellent?"

"I can't bet on him! He's only eight years old. How many classics has he read? The literary examination tests real knowledge and skills, not something you can fool with a poem or two!"

"I heard that several scholars from neighboring counties have rushed here just to see if our Qinghe County's child prodigy is real!"

The owner of Hanmozhai was also squeezed into the crowd, his face full of tension.

He has staked everything on Gu Ci. If the kid makes a mistake today, his shop will probably go bankrupt too.

The news spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of Qinghe County.

Countless eyes were focused on this small Confucian temple.

Inside the hall, the literary gathering officially began.

An elderly scholar, well past fifty, presided over the ceremony. He first read a piece of prose praising the virtues of the literary sage, its elegant language captivating many scholars who swayed their heads in admiration.

Gu Ci kept yawning as he listened.

It's that empty, meaningless style of palace poetry again; what a waste of such fine paper and ink.

The lengthy opening remarks finally ended, and the open discussion began.

Zhang Yan was the first to step forward.

He cleared his throat, his gaze swept across the room, and finally landed on Gu Ci.

"Fellow scholars, at this grand gathering, I, Zhang, though unworthy, would like to offer a humble suggestion to inspire you all and share a question for mutual encouragement."

He strolled into the hall, his voice ringing out.

"We scholars should aspire to great heights. How about we each compose an essay today on the theme of youthful ambition?"

As soon as the question was posed, everyone nodded in agreement.

"Excellent question! Just what we've been looking for!"

"Brother Zhang is truly talented!"

Zhang Yan gestured for everyone to be quiet, and his smile deepened as he looked at Gu Ci.

"However, since this is a literary gathering, there should be some rules. This topic requires a classical prose piece. The essay must include at least ten quotations from classics such as the *Book of Poetry*, *Book of Documents*, *Book of Rites*, *Book of Changes*, and *Spring and Autumn Annals*. Each quotation must be properly cited, and the meaning must be coherent; blatant copying is not acceptable!"

He paused, then raised his voice a few decibels.

"Most importantly, the theme should be lofty, expressing the aspirations of scholars like ourselves to have the world in our hearts and to help all living beings!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the entire side hall fell silent.

Nobody's a fool; everyone can see the veiled hostility in those words.

Writing poetry and writing essays are two different things.

Poetry and lyrics are about inspiration; they can be created by chance.

However, classical prose, especially the articles that require quoting ten classics, tests a scholar's solid foundation in classical studies!

Even if an eight-year-old child were truly a reincarnation of the God of Literature, how many years could he study? How many scriptures could he memorize?

This question is a trap tailor-made for Gu Ci!

The goal was to prevent him from displaying his "poetic talent" and to make him stumble badly in front of all the scholars in the county when it came to the most demanding subject of "classical studies."

If he can't answer the question, or if his answer is full of mistakes, the halo of "child prodigy" will shatter in an instant.

The scholars worked together seamlessly and immediately began to build momentum.

"Brother Zhang, this is an excellent question! It's perfect for testing someone's true talent and knowledge!"

"Yes, just being able to write poetry isn't enough; understanding classical texts and essays is fundamental!"

"Ten classic quotes—this is no joke!"

Gu Ang turned pale with anger, and he stood up, glaring at Zhang Yan.

"you……"

"elder brother."

Gu Ci gently tugged at his sleeve, gesturing for him to sit down.

Gu Ang turned around and saw his younger brother's calm face, and he forcefully suppressed his anger.

Zhang Yan looked at Gu Ci, her smile still on her face.

"What's wrong, young Master Gu? Do you find this question too difficult? If so, that's alright. You're still young; take your time with your studies."

The scholars behind him immediately started making a fuss.

"Exactly, a child like you should just memorize a couple of limericks; don't bother coming to literary gatherings."

"Haha, don't scare the child prodigy to tears!"

A burst of laughter erupted inside the hall.

Those scholars who had initially been hesitant now shook their heads in disbelief.

Zhang Yan's move was too ruthless; he was trying to kill someone.

This eight-year-old child is probably going to suffer a big setback today.

Faced with ridicule and pressure from the audience, Gu Ci simply sat there quietly.

He looked up at Zhang Yan, who was beaming with pride, and suddenly felt a little bored.

Is this the Juren (successful candidate in the imperial examination) of the Great Feng Dynasty?

That's just how things are.

He slowly stood up, his small stature appearing particularly thin among the many scholars in blue robes.

"Mr. Zhang, I'll take over this question."