Han Ji

The lingering echoes of the poem seemed to still reverberate in the night sky, yet the garden was so quiet that one could hear the faint crackling of the lamplight.

Everyone was stunned.

This... this is incredible!

The poem begins with a magnificent panorama of the bright moon over the Tianshan Mountains and a vast sea of ​​clouds, followed by the temporal and spatial tension of the long winds and the majestic Yumen Pass, then shifts to the weighty history of ancient and modern battles, and finally concludes with the profound human emotions of soldiers longing for home and sighing from their towers. Its grand imagery, expansive vision, robust spirit, and concise yet powerful language completely transcend the conventional forms of moon-themed poetry!

This is a magnificent musical movement that blends the vicissitudes of the frontier, the changes of history, and the empathy of humanity!

Cai Yong, who had been half-closing his eyes, had now opened them. He leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping unconsciously on his knees, his eyes filled with shock and reminiscence.

Lu Zhi's hand, holding the wine glass, froze in mid-air. He looked at the lone student in the room, his eyes gleaming with an indescribable light. He knew Liu Bei might have some literary talent, but he never expected him to be so exceptionally brilliant!

Yuan Shao's composed smile froze. He subconsciously gripped the jade fan in his hand, looking at Liu Bei with a complex expression, a mixture of disbelief and a hint of gloom from being overshadowed.

Cao Cao stood up abruptly, staring intently at Liu Bei as if trying to see through him, silently muttering the phrase "From ancient times, this has been a battlefield, where no one has ever returned," his face full of admiration and deep thought.

Gongsun Zan opened his mouth wide, and after a long while, he suddenly slapped his thigh and roared, "Good!!" His roar seemed to break the spell.

Instantly, cheers and discussions erupted in the park!

"This poem...this poem..." An old scholar exclaimed excitedly, his beard trembling. "Its grandeur is magnificent, its thoughts echoing those of Emperor Gaozu! Its lofty style and profound imagery are truly divine!"

"The soldiers on the frontier gaze at the border towns, their faces etched with longing for home... This poem perfectly captures the suffering of those on campaign, its desolation penetrating to the bone!" Another man exclaimed with a deep sigh.

"Who is this Liu Bei...? Where did Lord Lu find such a fine disciple?"

A chorus of exclamations, praises, and discussions filled the air as everyone's eyes were fixed on Liu Bei. The scrutinizing, skeptical, and amused looks from before had all transformed into awe and admiration.

Cai Yong stood up, poured himself a cup of wine, walked to Liu Bei, and solemnly said, "Xuande's poem is vast and complete, its spirit soaring high! Let us raise a large cup!"

Liu Bei bowed and accepted the gift, saying, "Lord Cai, you flatter me. I am unworthy of such praise."

He remained humble, but in the eyes of others at that moment, this humility only highlighted his integrity.

That night, the poem "Guan Shan Yue" and the name of Liu Bei seemed to sprout wings, destined to shock the entire city of Luoyang.

When the literary gathering ended, it was already late at night. The carriage swayed and bumped along the official road back to Goushi Mountain.

Inside the carriage, Lu Zhi closed his eyes to rest, remaining silent. Liu Bei also sat quietly, watching the lights of Luoyang rushing past the window. He felt little pride, but rather a sense of emptiness. Whether revealing that treasure, which did not belong to this era, ahead of time was right or wrong, he could not judge.

"From this day forward, your name will no longer be limited to Mount Goushi," Lu Zhi suddenly said, his voice exceptionally clear in the quiet carriage.

Liu Bei withdrew his gaze and looked at his teacher: "I spoke rashly and fear it may cause controversy."

"Nonsense?" Lu Zhi opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as lightning, and looked at him. "If nonsense can produce such verses, then all the scholars in the world may as well lay down their pens."

He paused, then softened his tone: "The tallest tree in the forest is the first to be felled by the wind. I have warned you of this principle before. However, your outstanding performance today is not something you did intentionally; it is simply a natural result of your talent, and there is no way to avoid it. From now on, open attacks and hidden barbs, praise and slander, will all be lessons you must learn."

"I understand," Liu Bei replied in a deep voice.

Silence fell again inside the carriage. Only the monotonous sound of wheels rolling over the road could be heard.

After a long while, as the outline of Mount Goushi began to emerge faintly in the night, Lu Zhi suddenly asked again, his voice low and solemn:

"Liu Bei, would you be willing to become my disciple?"

Liu Bei's heart trembled, and he abruptly looked up at Lu Zhi. In the darkness, he couldn't see his teacher's expression, but he clearly felt the weight of those words. Disciples who had entered the inner circle, passing on their mantle, were almost like father and son.

Without the slightest hesitation, in the bumpy carriage, he lifted his coat and kowtowed heavily in the direction of Lu Zhi.

"I will never forget the kindness of my teacher in nurturing me! Liu Bei wishes to become your disciple!"

My forehead pressed against the cold car floor, but my heart was burning hot.

Lu Zhi reached out and gently supported his shoulder. "Get up." His voice carried a hint of gentleness that was barely perceptible. "Now that you've entered my room, you should abide by my rules. Tomorrow at dawn, come to my study to pay your respects."

"Yes, teacher!"

The next day, Liu Bei performed a simple ceremony in his study, witnessed by Cai Yong and others. Liu Bei knelt three times and kowtowed nine times, presented his tuition fees, and Lu Zhi gifted him an ancient inkstone.

Within a few days, several pieces of news spread like wildfire throughout the scholarly circles of Luoyang.

Firstly, Lu Zhi, the Minister of Works, formally accepted Liu Bei of Zhuojun as his disciple.

Secondly, at Cai Yong's moon-worshiping literary gathering, Liu Bei astonished everyone with his unprecedented five-character ancient poem "Guan Shan Yue" (Moon over the Mountain Pass), which Cai Yong praised as vast and complete, with a spirit that soars to the heavens.

Thirdly, the poem "Planting Flowers on Mount Goushi in Response to Lord Lu," which Liu Bei casually recited in the back garden of Mount Goushi and which praised Lu Zhi, also spread widely.

"Mount Goushi opens up, possessing abundant natural beauty; passersby point and say, 'This is the home of Lord Lu.' Lord Lu's students are all over the world; why bother planting more flowers in front of his hall?"

The poem is simple yet sincere, especially the line "Master Lu's students are all over the world," which fully expresses Lu Zhi's achievements and reputation in teaching and educating people. This, along with the matter of accepting disciples, has become a popular topic of conversation.

"This Liu Bei is extraordinary! His poetic talent is astounding, and with Lord Lu's high regard for him, his future is limitless!"

"I heard that he comes from the Zhuojun imperial family, but his family has fallen on hard times. He has achieved what he has today entirely through his own talent and the appreciation of Lord Lu, which is truly remarkable."

"The poems 'Moon Over the Mountain Pass,' 'Farewell to Zhuojun,' and 'Planting Flowers with Lord Lu'... each one a masterpiece. Who among the talented men of our time can surpass this man's literary genius!"

Praises arose rapidly. For the first time, the name Liu Bei truly left a deep imprint on the imperial capital, Luoyang.

Inside the study, the classmates looked at Liu Bei with increasingly different eyes, showing more respect and even a sense of distance.

Gongsun Zan, however, remained unchanged, hooking his arm around Liu Bei's neck and chuckling, "Well done, Xuande! Now everyone in the world knows you! I'm so proud!" He laughed heartily, but there was a hint of complexity in his eyes.

Liu Deran was copying a book when his pen paused, staining the bamboo slips with ink. He stared blankly at the black stain, gently put down his pen, and sighed after a long while.

Inside the hermitage, the people looked at Liu Bei with even greater awe.

Only Liu Bei himself continued to rise at dawn to recite scriptures, listen to lectures at dawn, practice martial arts and swordsmanship in the afternoon, and study late into the night by lamplight. It was as if the clamor of the outside world had nothing to do with him.

He knew perfectly well that fame as a poet or a teacher were merely external things. In this turbulent era, all he could ultimately rely on was his own growing strength and his increasingly calm and resilient heart.

In Lu Zhi's study, the lamp was on for longer than usual. The master and disciple sat facing each other, and what was spread out on the table was no longer ordinary classic texts, but more maps, policy essays, and even some official documents unknown to outsiders.