Tang Dynasty Swordsman.

Upon hearing this, Li Tan stroked his beard and smiled, saying, "That's right—Changwei can find some works by contemporary masters to read in his spare time. Practice makes perfect, and if he encounters such a situation again, he will not have to ponder for so long."

Li Ji cupped his hands and said, "Please continue, Your Highness." Don't just make things difficult for me or criticize me; let's see what you can do.

After a moment's thought, Li Tan recited: "Holding the imperial banner, I leave the capital."

Li Ji secretly shook his head, thinking to himself, "This doesn't make sense... I'm already covered in dust from the journey, and you've only just left the capital? What is this, a flashback? As expected of your royal family... at least for the last two generations, not a single one of you has any literary talent, yet you still like to pretend to be cultured. It's truly laughable."

But who dared to disagree with what the general had written? They could only follow Li Tan's train of thought and continue reciting. Yang Yan immediately added, "His grand plans and strategies chilled the hearts of the barbarians."

Li Ji couldn't help but complain in his heart, which made it all the more convenient—"When it comes to flattery, you are the best."

Then Xue Yong said, "I will repay the Emperor's grace with my blood and loyalty."

Zhang Zhu said, "I read historical records every day at cockcrow."

Yuan Xiu said, "Every year the tiger roars in the military camp."

Finally, it was Du Fu's turn—seven people, eight lines each, and he had to conclude. Du Zimei seemed to have less inspiration than the others, and after considering for a while, he slowly said: "I only hope that there will be no chaos or turmoil throughout the world, and I, an old man, offer a cup of fresh celery."

Upon hearing this, Li Ji's spirits lifted—"Hmm, those two sentences are good."

To be honest, Xue Yong and his ilk were only about as good as Li Tan in terms of literary talent, and not even as good as Yang Yan's line, which, though perhaps a bit sycophantic, was still fluent. And if you're going to follow Yang Gongnan's line of thought, you can't just write nothing but flattery; it's not only repetitive and boring, but also lacks elegance. Du Zimei's concluding lines, however, return to the end of war and the peace of the world, elevating the theme somewhat. Furthermore, the phrase "offering a cup" echoes his opening line about "wine stains," like a small flower finally blooming on a withered vine.

Yes, I've heard that even Li Bai praised this person's poetry. Indeed, a man of great renown, his words are not unfounded.

After finishing the seven-line poem, Li Tan was overjoyed and raised his cup, saying, "Gentlemen, you are all highly talented. Every line of this poem is in accordance with the rules..." This was not wrong. Regardless of the level of skill, the rules were still followed. For example, even if "the daughter is happy, and she pokes XX in," it would not be considered a violation of the drinking game. "Come, let's all drink a cup and pray for the sage's joy, health, and peace throughout the world."

Everyone drank, and the atmosphere at the banquet gradually became relaxed and lively. Li Tan, slightly tipsy, simply told the guests not to be bound by formalities and to take off their hats.

The Chinese have always placed great importance on hairstyles and headwear. While commoners might not care, scholars and officials would be unable to appear in public without a headwear—some even risked being chopped into mincemeat while trying to fix their headwear. By the Tang Dynasty, the headscarf commonly worn by commoners had evolved into a hat or turban, serving the same ceremonial function as a headwear. Therefore, even though Li Tan was hosting a banquet indoors today, both host and guests wore turbans and dared not remove them even slightly.

Removing one's hat is tantamount to exempting oneself from formalities. If even hats can be removed, then shouting, smirking, even opening one's robes and loosening one's belt in the midst of revelry are all acceptable. Li Tan's actions were intended to dispel the timidity of his newly hired staff, eliminate any barriers between host and guest, and ensure that from now on, everyone would be good friends who could drink together without hats, and would naturally work together diligently and loyally in serving the king.

He was the first to remove his turban and toss it aside, and everyone followed suit—if even the military commander had let go of his formalities, it wouldn't be appropriate for you to deliberately maintain a facade. As a result, the atmosphere became even more harmonious, and everyone except Yang Yan ate and drank heartily, toasting each other, creating a lively and festive atmosphere.

Du Fu, holding a wine cup, came over to toast Li Ji, saying, "I have heard of your name since I was in the capital..."

Li Ji raised his cup with both hands, stood up, and repeatedly said he dared not accept such praise.

Du Fu smiled and said, "But who says that Li Changwei, who says 'every grain is hard-earned,' can't write poetry?"

Li Ji was startled upon hearing this, as if caught red-handed stealing a chicken, his face flushing red—thankfully, the alcohol masked his embarrassment. He hurriedly asked, "This, this...where did Mr. Du hear this from?"

Du Fu laughed and said, "When I was in the Censorate (he had served as Left Remonstrance Official), one of my subordinates told me that he heard it at the home of Lü Miaozhen in Pingkang."

Li Ji thought to himself, "Who is this person who would spread my shameful secret... Oh, the other person might not even think it's shameful, they might even consider it a good story, so they probably don't have any bad intentions. But it's normal that dozens of people present at Lü Miaozhen's house, where we were drinking and listening to music, would remember my poem that inexplicably won first place. The problem is, I didn't announce myself loudly, so how could they recognize me? Who is it?"

He casually and modestly replied, "It's just a playful piece, merely rhyming; how could it be considered poetry..." Just as he was about to inquire about the minor official Du Fu had mentioned, Du Zimei said seriously, "There are two kinds of poetry. One comes from heaven, naturally integrated into the bones of mortals, unadorned and flawless, like the works of Li Bai; the other is painstakingly crafted, each word carefully considered, which inevitably loses its natural charm, like my work. Your 'every grain is hard-earned,' and just now 'dust from the journey mingled with wine stains on my clothes,' also belong to the former..."

Li Ji was even more embarrassed and just wanted to find a hole to crawl into...

"Since you have such talent, why don't you study poetry? If you had studied it even a little, you would surely have created even more masterpieces. It would be a pity to leave this unpolished gem uncarved and buried deep in the mountains."

Li Ji quickly changed the subject: "Mr. Du, you are too modest. Even Li Bai praised your poems highly. Do you have any masterpieces that you would be willing to recite for me?"

Upon hearing this, Du Fu sighed softly and simply sat down cross-legged in front of Li Ji's desk, saying: "When I was young, I repeatedly failed the imperial examinations, but I never lost my lofty aspirations. I also traveled with Mr. Taibai, visiting famous mountains and rivers, discussing philosophy over wine. My works were either depictions of natural scenery or childish musings on trivial matters..."

"In my youth, I was too arrogant and willful, lacking ambition and ambition, which led to a bumpy official career, poverty, and a decline in my career. Unexpectedly, just as I was in dire straits, the country fell into chaos again. Unable to find refuge in Lingwu, I was captured by rebels and taken to Chang'an... Later, after the two capitals were restored, I entered the Censorate and requested to visit my family in Qiang Village, Fuzhou, where I wrote three short poems..."

"Li is willing to hear it."

Du Fu then put down his wine cup, looked up at the sky, and slowly recited:

"The third verse is: 'A flock of chickens are squawking wildly, fighting when guests arrive. I chase the chickens up a tree, and then I hear knocking at the gate. Four or five elders ask me how long I've been away. Each of them carries something, pouring out wine, sometimes cloudy, sometimes clear. I bitterly complain that the wine is weak, and the millet fields are uncultivated. The war has not yet ended, and all the children have gone east to fight. I ask to sing for the elders, ashamed of my deep feelings for their hardships. After the song, I look up to the sky and sigh, and tears stream down the faces of all present.'"

If Li Ji had just transmigrated and suddenly heard this poem, he might have collapsed to his knees and prostrated himself in worship! Fortunately, back in Ding'an City, he first heard Yan Wu recite "Early Autumn in the Military City," which was like a wake-up call. Afterward, he begged Li Bi and Li Shi to collect some contemporary poems to read, thus coming into contact with the works of Li Bai, Gao Shi, Wang Wei, He Zhizhang, Meng Haoran, Wang Changling, and others. He deeply felt that the level of Tang Dynasty poetry was no less than that of the Jian'an period, and might even have reached a new peak, towering thousands of feet high!

So he has developed some immunity to some extent.

However, Du Fu's poems still impressed Li Ji greatly. Especially given Li Ji's personality, he preferred realistic works and did not necessarily appreciate Li Bai's extremely romantic and unrestrained writing style—"I admit you're very talented, but unfortunately, I don't like it."

Du Fu's poem "Qiang Village" uses simple language and a rustic style to describe the ordinary scene of returning to his hometown and being greeted by the elders. However, it also interweaves a description of the times: "...the millet fields are uncultivated, the war has not yet ended, and all the children have gone east to fight." He seamlessly combines his personal experiences with the chaos and turmoil of the country.

"This is truly a fine poem! This is the style I love!" Li Ji couldn't help but bow deeply to Du Fu and said, "Your poem is truly moving. Who would say it's an elaborate work, lacking natural charm? Do you have any other older works? I hope you would allow me to copy them down and read them day and night."

His performance was somewhat unexpected for Du Fu. It should be noted that Du Fu's poetic reputation was not very high at that time, and his reputation was only second-rate—if it weren't for Li Bai's help in promoting him, it would probably have been even lower—mainly because his works did not conform to the luxurious and ornate style of the Kaiyuan and Tianbao eras, and his official career was not smooth, with the highest position he could reach was only Left Advisor.

In fact, the positions of Left Remonstrance Official and Left Advisor, though only seventh or eighth rank, were close advisors to the emperor and a direct path to higher positions. However, the problem was that Du Fu was already over forty when he became Left Remonstrance Official, and he couldn't see much of a future in it. Moreover, he was demoted shortly after taking office for speaking out against the wrongdoing of Fang Guan. Theoretically speaking, even the ordinary works of high-ranking officials are praised, so even the most brilliant works of lowly officials need people to have the time to read them.

Moreover, Du Fu's early works were not very mature. When he was extremely impoverished and even his youngest son starved to death, and seeing the people becoming increasingly poor under the so-called "prosperous age" of the Tianbao era, his poetic style became even more melancholic and satirical. Then, even fewer people read his poems—the emperor was on the throne, and the world was at peace, so what was he lamenting? It wasn't until after the great chaos, when the court and the people had learned their lesson, that they could read Du Fu's poems again and truly empathize with his plight, thus making him famous for all time.

So at this time, although Du Fu boasted that his poetic talent was no less than that of Li Bai, few people agreed with him. He said that Li Bai was alongside Wang Wei, followed by Meng Haoran, Wang Changling, Gao Shi, Cen Shen, and so on. When did it become Du Fu's turn?

Unexpectedly, this Inspector Li had such a high opinion of his poem "Qiang Village." Even if his words were just polite, they were still very touching. Du Zimei felt a great sense of kinship, and his lips twitched slightly. He didn't know whether to be happy or to quickly offer some words of humility. After hesitating for a moment, he said, "In the midst of chaos, many of my old works were lost. Since you like them, I will quickly transcribe what I remember. Please correct me if I am wrong."

Perhaps driven by a bit of a desire to show off, Du Fu acted swiftly—after the banquet that day, Li Ji drank quite a bit of wine, went home, washed up, and went to sleep. He didn't get up until the next day, when someone delivered a scroll of Du Fu's poems to him. Li Ji didn't have time to look at it then, so he casually handed it to Qingluan for safekeeping, intending to read it carefully by candlelight that evening.

There are approximately forty poems in total, including "Looking at Mount Tai," "To Li Bai," and "Twenty-Two Rhymes Presented to Vice Minister Wei." Under the lamplight, Li Ji slowly unrolled the scroll, reading as he did so, starting with the next poem, "The Ballad of the War Chariots"—

"The carriages rumble, the horses neigh, and the travelers carry bows and arrows at their waists. Parents, wives, and children see them off, but the dust obscures the Xianyang Bridge... It is true that it is bad to give birth to a son, but good to give birth to a daughter. A daughter can still marry a neighbor, while a son is buried and forgotten among the weeds. Do you not see the head of Qinghai Lake, where since ancient times, white bones have been left uncollected? New ghosts are distressed and old ghosts weep, their cries echoing in the damp, overcast sky."

Li Ji's eyes widened immediately—Wow, that's amazing!

Upon rereading "A Five-Hundred-Word Poem Written on My Journey from the Capital to Fengxian," he came across the line "Behind the red gates, the stench of wine and meat; on the road, the bones of those frozen to death." The hairs on his back stood on end, and he felt a deep chill penetrate his very being. He couldn't help but stand up abruptly.

The servant Qingluan, who was attending to him, trembled in fright and hurriedly asked, "Young master, what's the matter that you're in such a hurry?"

Li Ji was momentarily dazed before regaining his composure. He lowered his head and silently recited the poem again, then smiled bitterly and said, "I often regret that I cannot live in the same era as Qu Yuan, but I never thought that there would be such a timeless masterpiece in our time! Call Qingluan over here and read it with me."

Qingluan declined, saying, "Although I know a few characters, I don't understand poetry..."

Li Ji smiled and said, "Do you think I understand? Don't worry, these poems and essays are all very straightforward, you won't have trouble understanding them."

With a slight tremor of his left hand, he unfolded the next poem, "Lament for Chen Tao," and immediately recited it aloud: "In the first month of winter, the sons of good families from ten prefectures, their blood turned the waters of Chen Tao Marsh. The wilderness is vast, the sky clear, and there is no sound of battle; forty thousand righteous soldiers died on the same day! The barbarian hordes returned, their arrows washed with blood, still singing barbarian songs and drinking in the city. The people of the capital turned their faces north and wept, day and night hoping for the arrival of the government troops..."

His voice grew softer and softer until he finally sighed and collapsed to the ground. Qingluan asked in surprise, "What is this saying? I really don't understand." Li Ji frowned and muttered to himself, "Why would Du Zimei submit a memorial to speak for Fang Guan? When I see this poem now, I wish I could devour that old good-for-nothing alive!"

Back when he was at the imperial court in Ding'an, upon hearing of Fang Guan's crushing defeat at Chentao, he felt indignant, but ultimately, it was none of his business—at that time, he hadn't even figured out whether to support the Tang or find an opportunity to rebel against it—he discussed it briefly with Li Bi, but it was all just empty talk, and he dropped the matter. But now, reading this poem, "Lament for Chentao," a wave of sorrow and tragedy washes over him, as if he were witnessing firsthand how many valiant men were buried on the battlefield, their lives filled with unfulfilled grief, because of one man's lack of strategy…

He had read many ancient poems in his previous life, but almost none of them truly moved him. Perhaps it was because he was just a shut-in in front of a computer during peaceful times. But now that he had transmigrated into this world, stepped onto the battlefield again, and witnessed life and death, these few lines of text were like a sharp sword, piercing straight to Li Ji's heart—could the power of poetry really be so great?!

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Chapter Thirty-One: Dumplings and Wine

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♂The End♂

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Before he knew it, the year was coming to an end. The first year of Qian Yuan was about to end, and in just one more night, it would be the second year. Li Ji had inexplicably transmigrated here and was about to enter his third year.

Looking back on my previous life, it all seems like a dream, leaving me with a deep sense of melancholy.

The barbarian invaders had finally retreated, and it was no longer considered wartime. Therefore, the Longyou Military Headquarters, as was customary, closed its offices and gave everyone a holiday early. Li Ji returned home and asked Qingluan, "What do you usually eat on New Year's Eve?"

Qingluan replied, "I am used to eating soup noodles—my lord is from Guandong, I wonder what your hometown is used to eating, so I can prepare in advance."

Li Ji blurted out, "Of course we have to eat dumplings!"

Qingluan asked in surprise, "What are dumplings? And how do you make them?"

Li Ji then realized what was going on and smiled, "It's just a rural term; it's actually just crescent-shaped wontons."

Thinking about how busy I've been with work lately, I haven't cooked for a long time—and as they say, a gourmand who can't cook isn't a true foodie—Ever since that day in the snow when I tried hot pot, Qingluan has been the one preparing the meals. Generally speaking, cooking isn't considered a man's job—professional chefs aside—but it's not shameful for the head of the household to cook; it's purely a personal hobby.

So Li Ji rolled up his sleeves and started making dumplings with Qingluan. Dumplings weren't popular back then; they were a variation of wontons. Because the way they were wrapped was different from wontons, the two ends had to be raised up, curved like a crescent moon, hence the name "Crescent Moon Wonton".

Qingluan first prepared the dough, while Li Ji chopped the mutton and chives to make the filling. Then, he personally took the rolling pin and rolled out the wrappers while instructing Qingluan: "In my hometown, we don't make dumplings like wontons by spreading the dough out into a large sheet and cutting it into small pieces. Instead, we roll each sheet into a circle, making the center slightly thicker so that it won't break easily when the water boils... Dumplings should be wrapped like this, folded and pinched tightly. They don't actually resemble a crescent moon, but rather an ear."

"This was invented by Zhang Zhongjing, the medical sage of the late Han Dynasty. It was called 'jiao'er' at the time because its shape resembled an ear. And it is said that if you eat dumplings in winter, no matter how cold the weather is, your ears will not get frostbite. Of course, it's just a legend, take it with a grain of salt..."

Qingluan learned quickly, and the two of them made about a hundred leek and mutton dumplings in one go. They boiled them in boiling water until they floated, then scooped them out of the pot. Li Ji ordered the first batch of dumplings to be sent to the old soldier guarding the gate, and the rest of the batches were eaten by him and Qingluan sitting facing each other inside the house. Qingluan also heated up a pot of wine, and Li Ji ate a dumpling with a sip of wine, thoroughly enjoying himself.

—As the saying goes, "Dumplings and wine go hand in hand, the more you eat, the more you have."

While eating, he also told Qingluan, "If there are any leftovers, you can fry them with some oil tomorrow; they will taste even better."

Qingluan, naturally, didn't eat as heartily as him. She would pick up a dumpling, dip it in a little vinegar, and then gently bite a small hole in it to suck out the delicious juice before taking a few bites, chewing carefully, and swallowing. She couldn't help but exclaim, "My lord, the mutton filling is so flavorful... and I often worry that the crescent-shaped wontons lack broth and are a bit bland. How did you think of eating them with vinegar? It really has a unique flavor."

But as she ate, she suddenly frowned, then turned her face to the side, covering her mouth with her sleeve. Li Ji laughed loudly, "Have you eaten anything yet?"

Qingluan initially suspected that the broken bones hadn't been completely removed, which was Li Ji's responsibility. She didn't want to say it out loud, fearing that her husband would lose face, so she planned to vomit it out quietly. But after hearing what Li Ji said, it seemed... he knew beforehand? Only then did she carefully reach into the mouth and gently feel around, and there was a large, hard object.

He took it out and looked at it, and lo and behold, it was a copper coin.

Li Ji clapped his hands and said, "You found it! You found it!" He then explained, "This is a local custom. A few coins are hidden inside the dumplings. Whoever finds it will surely have good fortune in the coming year."

Qingluan tossed the copper coin onto the table and laughed, "What good fortune could I possibly have? It should have been my lord who ate it; the military governor will surely increase his salary next year." She glanced at the plate, wondering which dumpling still had a coin inside. "I hope I don't find one and upset my lord..."

Li Ji smiled and said, "We made dumplings together. I managed to squeeze in one, how could I possibly have a chance to squeeze in a second? This one dumpling is all I have. If you get to eat it, then it's my family's fortune." He paused slightly after saying this.

Wow, "my home"! I've actually started a home! Apart from Li Bi, I can say I have family in this world!

----------

After New Year's Day, the offices of the military governors and the provincial governors reopened. The newly hired staff gradually became familiar with the politics of Longyou and started working. Both Yang Yan and Li Ji had much lighter burdens on their shoulders.

Li Tan drastically reformed the system of the military headquarters. The four departments of granary, military, cavalry, and armor no longer had military advisors—because most of their powers had been usurped by Yang Yan, the judge of the Ministry of Revenue—instead, judges were appointed to oversee the affairs of the four departments, and Xue Yong was appointed to do so; a judge was also appointed to handle all affairs of the general headquarters, and Zhang Zhu was appointed to do so; Du Fu was appointed as the chief secretary, and Yuan Xiu was appointed as the investigating official.

As for Yang Qing, the military advisor who resolutely refused to resign, he was reassigned as a clerk.

If we were to explain their roles in terms of later generations, Yang Yan was in charge of finance and logistics, Xue Yong assisted the military governor in controlling the armed forces, Zhang Zhu was the office director, Du Fu was the leader's secretary (actually responsible for paperwork), Yuan Xiu was in charge of the judiciary (of course, only a military judge, not handling civil litigation), and Yang Qing was responsible for organizing and archiving files and documents.

As for Li Ji, he was promoted from inspector to staff officer, serving as the military governor's main assistant in military strategy.

After working and observing them for a period of time, Li Ji had gained some understanding of Xue Yong and his associates. They were indeed a bunch of scoundrels, a den of snakes and rats… ah, no, it should be said they shared the same ideals. Since they were Yang Yan's friends, their knowledge and abilities might differ, but they were all willing to work diligently and were not just empty talkers. Among them, Xue Yong was strict and upright, Zhang Zhu was honest and simple, and Yuan Xiu had lofty ambitions; they all seemed to be outstanding talents and outstanding individuals of their time.

Yang Qing, however, seemed to be intentionally or unintentionally avoiding Li Ji. It was probably because the two had a falling out before and he didn't know how to face him. Therefore, Li Ji's understanding of him was quite limited, and he couldn't see what kind of person Yang Qing was.

Finally, let's talk about Du Fu. Because Li Ji praised his poetry, they considered each other kindred spirits. After Du Zimei (Du Fu's courtesy name) finished his official duties, he often came to drink and chat with Li Ji. Since reading Du Fu's thick volume of poems, Li Ji also greatly admired him—a fine jade cannot remain hidden forever; perhaps one day, this fellow's talent will be recognized by the world, and he will become a master of his generation. It's just unclear whether this recognition will only come after Du Fu's death…

Therefore, he treated Du Fu with great respect. Although he was a little annoyed that the skinny old man would come over every few days to freeload and disrupt his time with Qingluan, he couldn't bring himself to turn him away. Fortunately, Du Fu was experienced and well-traveled, and had a wide range of knowledge. Whenever they were in high spirits after drinking, he would talk about court secrets, rural anecdotes, or scenic spots around the country. Li Ji could still learn a lot from these conversations, and they weren't unpleasant or like the cawing of crows.

However, Li Ji always felt that this Mr. Du was just a literary scholar, and his actual political ability was probably not that great... So Li Tan appointed him as the chief secretary, mainly to help draft official documents and decrees - even these tasks used to be handled by Yang Gongnan - which can be considered to make the best use of him.

Du Fu himself accepted the appointment without question and had no desire for power. Li Ji believed that the reason he was willing to come to Longyou was probably because of the dowry...