Volume One, Chapter 8: The Decay of Nobility Amidst Feasts and Famine
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Clearly, these words were quite useful to Xiao Changqing.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Xiao Changqing’s lips as he looked at Zhang Yan and said, “Brother Zhang, if you feel you need more time to consider, I, Xiao, can offer a humble attempt first, giving you some time.”
Though politely phrased, this was essentially a veiled insult, implying that Zhang Yan was ignorant and didn’t understand poetry.
Zhang Yan pretended not to notice and, following Xiao Changqing’s lead, smiled and said, “Then let Scholar Xiao please us first.”
Inside, Xiao Changqing sneered, already envisioning his victory.
Once today’s affair reached Jiang Zhiwan’s ears, his standing with her would surely be restored.
With this in mind, Xiao Changqing smiled confidently and said, “Very well, I shall give it a try.”
“Starving corpses litter the land, suffering untold;
Famine gnaws the gut, days are hard to bear.
No grains to harvest, hearts heavy with worry,
When, oh when, will the bountiful year appear?”
As Xiao Changqing’s voice fell, someone immediately exclaimed loudly, “Beautiful poem!”
“Truly worthy of Scholar Xiao; this poem not only portrays the people’s hunger but also their hope for a fruitful year — a fine piece indeed!”
“I was about to offer a humble attempt myself, but hearing Scholar Xiao’s poem, I’m glad I refrained.”
“Brother, wise choice — otherwise, the fool would not be that idiot, but you.”
“Scholar Xiao’s poem will surely take the prize.”
Qingya also gave a slight bow toward Xiao Changqing, admiringly saying, “Scholar Xiao, your talent is truly admirable.”
A smile blossomed on Xiao Changqing’s lips; his spirits lifted.
The melancholy of the past two days was finally swept away.
He glanced at Zhang Yan and said with a smile, “Brother Zhang, how do you find this poem of mine? Ah, forgive me — I forgot that you’ve never studied poetry and probably don’t understand it.”
His tone was dripping with sarcasm; Xiao Changqing had laid his trap clearly.
Others laughed loudly as well. After all, it was common knowledge that Zhang Yan was a simpleton afflicted with mental disability; even if cured, it was impossible for him to compose poetry.
Zhang Yan withdrew his hand from around Xuanxuan, smiled faintly, and walked beside Xiao Changqing, patting his shoulder before sighing.
“Hey, don’t get me wrong, Scholar Xiao, your poem is honestly just average,” Zhang Yan said with a smirk.
His words echoed those from the previous day’s court proceedings, causing Xiao Changqing’s face to darken like iron.
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But Xiao Changqing refused to believe it. Could Zhang Yan really produce any earth-shattering verses?
Zhang Yan paid no heed to Xiao Changqing’s thoughts and chuckled, continuing, “Scholar Xiao, if you want to write about famine, you can’t write only about famine.”
“What do you mean?” Xiao Changqing asked instinctively before realizing he had fallen into Zhang Yan’s trap.
His expression turned as if he had swallowed a fly — indescribably uncomfortable.
“Did I hear that right? That fool just said Scholar Xiao’s poem is average? Can he even discern good poetry?”
“Any one of us here is far superior to him; none would dare say Scholar Xiao’s poem is bad.”
“This is too funny. Let me laugh a little longer.”
Zhang Yan smiled faintly and made a gesture that would shatter the composure of men from some great cosmic power, saying, “This humble one is only a tiny bit better than everyone here, that’s all.”
Though no one understood the gesture, they all felt insulted.
“Well then, Brother Zhang, why don’t you share your masterpiece with us?”
Gritting his teeth, Xiao Changqing spoke, emphasizing the words “masterpiece.”
He was a top three scholar; how could poetry and prose from a lifelong mentally disabled simpleton surpass his?
The humiliation from the court yesterday must be avenged today!
Everyone’s eyes turned to Zhang Yan, most of them sneering.
Zhang Yan seemed oblivious to their gaze. Taking the wine cup from Xuanxuan, he sighed and said, “Whenever I see the prosperity of Wucheng, I cannot help but think of the starving people suffering from famine, and my heart aches. This is why I composed this poem.”
“Behind lavish gates, wine and meat decay,
While frozen bones lie by the road.
Prosperity and ruin lie but a short distance apart,
Yet sorrow is hard to express.”
Silence fell. The entire Yan Hong Pavilion was hushed.
Even a cursory listen and comparison showed Zhang Yan’s poem was far more profound than Xiao Changqing’s.
Xiao’s poem spoke only of famine’s suffering.
Zhang’s poem contrasted the wealthy elite with the starving masses.
Xiao Changqing looked at Zhang Yan with astonished eyes, his mind still echoing Zhang’s words: “If you want to write about famine, you cannot write only about famine.”
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Though there was no direct depiction of famine, the poem vividly conveyed its essence.
Even Qingya’s gaze toward Zhang Yan lost its former disdain, replaced by respect.
Such a poem could hardly come from a simpleton; perhaps the rumors were not entirely true.
“Impossible! Absolutely impossible!” Xiao Changqing could hardly believe it. How could a top three scholar like himself be beaten twice in a row by a simpleton like Zhang Yan?
“Yes, how could this be? It must be plagiarized,” someone said.
“Exactly. Otherwise, how could it be better than Scholar Xiao’s?”
“This shameless scoundrel is unworthy of our company!”
Accusations flew at Zhang Yan — only by doing so could they avoid appearing incompetent.
No one would admit they were inferior to a lifelong mentally disabled man like Zhang Yan.
Seizing the moment, Xiao Changqing said, “Indeed, everyone knows you suffered from mental disability, and only recently recovered. How could you possibly write such poetry? Brother Zhang, plagiarism is shameful.”
As a top three scholar and the foremost young talent in Great Wu, how could he lose twice consecutively to Zhang Yan?
Zhang Yan chuckled, patted Xiao Changqing’s shoulder, and said, “Scholar Xiao, evidence is required. You say this poem is plagiarized, but such a fine poem — I’m sure Scholar Xiao would never forget it if you had seen it before. Why don’t you tell us where I copied it from? Or shall I sue you for slander?”
Xiao Changqing’s face darkened, but he remained silent.
After all, neither he nor anyone present had ever encountered the poem Zhang Yan had recited.
Zhang Yan scanned the others. These fellows had just flattered Xiao Changqing and called him a fool repeatedly; if he didn’t put them in their place, would he still be Zhang Yan?
So he stepped before Qingya, sighed, and said, “I believe Miss Qingya has heard the poems just now. I am deeply concerned about the plight of the disaster-stricken people in Great Wu.”
“Today, I shall take advantage of this poetry contest to launch a fundraising drive. As the fundraiser, I will reluctantly take a ten percent commission, and the remaining ninety percent will be handed over to the court for disaster relief. Miss Qingya, what do you think?”
As he spoke, Zhang Yan truly wore an expression of reluctant generosity — after all, taking only ten percent was exceedingly kind of him.