In the pavilion.

Xie Erli cupped his hands in salute. “Your Highness.”

Zhao Yishi said gently, “Mubai, no need for excessive courtesy. Please sit.”

Mubai was Xie Erli’s courtesy name. Very few people knew it, yet the Crown Prince Grandson said it so naturally. This warmed Xie Erli’s heart, and his expression became even more respectful.

“Resorting to such tactics is truly a measure of last resort. I hope Mubai won’t take offense.”

“Your Highness speaks too seriously.”

Xie Erli glanced at Third. “I only fear my learning is shallow, and the poetry I write won’t be much help, instead ruining Your Highness’s important matter.”

“Mubai is too modest. Do our human best, leave the rest to heaven—it only depends on whether that young lady has this fortune.”

“Your Highness speaks truly.”

Though Xie Erli said this, his expression was actually quite relaxed.

Though he studied the teachings of Confucius and Mencius and the imperial examinations didn’t require poetry composition, in his youth he’d been influenced by his father and had studied such books. He had seventy to eighty percent confidence.

Moreover, this was for competing for a courtesan.

No matter how well a woman wrote poetry, it was just boudoir sentiments and resentments—nothing worth presenting formally.

Zhao Yishi thought the same.

He’d grown up at the Emperor’s side, learning the way of kingship and governance. To him, poetry and verse were merely the scholarly affectations of literati.

But the Grand Tutor was a master of all arts—he lectured brilliantly on the Four Books and Five Classics and was also proficient in poetry. Even if he couldn’t learn fifty or sixty percent, he had ten or twenty percent.

Ten or twenty percent was sufficient for competing for a courtesan.

Shen Chong pushed open the door. “Your Highness, I’ve learned it. The theme is to compose poetry or verse about the four seasons.”

Zhao Yishi pondered for a moment. “Not too difficult. What does Mubai think?”

“Indeed not difficult!”

The two said no more, each frowning in contemplation.

Beside them, seeing both men confident, Xie Zhifei’s heart eased greatly.

He lazily leaned against the window and beckoned to Shen Chong with his hand. “Send someone to find out who slightly excelled in the second round.”

Shen Chong: “Third Master, someone has already been sent.”

…

On the other side of the pavilion.

“Your Highness, in the first round of dance, Lanxin won first place. The musical skills just concluded—Lanxin and another girl called Zhuxiang are evenly matched.”

Sun Fu smiled. “The final round is poetry competition. A few days ago, I already informed Lanxin of the theme. She’s well prepared. I’ve also seen the poem she composed—it’s quite excellent. Please rest assured, Your Highness.”

Zhao Yanjin: “I’m always at ease when you handle matters.”

Sun Fu pulled out a paper from his robe. “This is the poem I prepared for Your Highness. As soon as Lanxin sees it, she’ll invite Your Highness into her chambers.”

Zhao Yanjin tossed the paper to someone beside him. “Recopy this for me. Make the characters more attractive.”

Sun Fu cupped his hands. “Allow me to congratulate Your Highness in advance—congratulations on winning the beauty.”

For men, what they pursued their whole lives was nothing more than two things:

First, the realm;

Second, beauties.

“Go, tell them to hurry up. Don’t dawdle and waste this prince’s time.”

“Yes!”

…

Xie Zhifei walked out of the pavilion and headed straight for the stage.

Seeing him return, Pei Xiao finally relaxed his anxious heart.

The two were perfectly in sync—they extended their hands under the table, one passing, one receiving.

After receiving it, Pei Xiao didn’t dare delay a moment and rushed straight to the privy.

Having been on edge all evening, Xie Zhifei finally had the inclination to sit down and drink some tea. In this exceptionally noisy environment, he suddenly missed Yan Sanhe very much.

What was that girl doing at home?

Was she craning her neck, hoping for their return?

With Li Buyan not by her side, was she accustomed to it or not?

“Today’s third round is poetry. The theme is the four seasons. You have the time of one cup of tea—whichever of the three young ladies finishes first, please come to the front of the stage.”

After the rules were announced, the scholars below began discussing.

“The four seasons are simply spring, summer, autumn, and winter. From ancient times to now, there’s too much poetry on this theme. I wonder if the three young ladies can write anything novel.”

“I think it’s difficult!”

“Spring is flowers, summer is moon, autumn is rain, winter is snow. The two easiest seasons to write about are spring and autumn.”

“As the saying goes, ‘hurt by spring, sad in autumn’—if the young ladies can grasp one ‘hurt’ and one ‘sad,’ they’ll have won half the battle.”

“In my opinion, the one who set this theme is too boring. Why write about the four seasons? They should just set the theme as ‘brocade tent’ and have the young ladies write about the clouds and rain of Mount Wu.”

“Hahahaha…”

The scholars erupted in laughter again.

…

Young Master Pei had never felt time pass so slowly in his life.

Where was she?

Why wasn’t she here yet?

Just as he was anxiously waiting, that person swaggered in, swinging her arms with a curious expression.

Looking here, looking there—she nearly said out loud, “How fresh! So this is what men’s privies look like.”

“All right, Great Hero Li, stop looking.”

Young Master Pei quickly stuffed the two slips of paper into her hands. “Hurry and take them to that… what’s-her-fragrance. Remember, memorize them word for word without missing a single character.”

“What’s the rush?”

Great Hero Li walked to the candlelight. “Let me look first.”

She still wanted to look?

Young Master Pei’s rage shot straight to the top of his head. “All right, auntie, you can’t understand it anyway. Don’t waste time.”

The auntie ignored him, first unfolding one slip of paper, then unfolding the other…

Then she frowned and lightly spat out two words from her mouth: “That’s it?”

That’s it?

Did I mishear?

No.

I must have misheard.

A fool who only knew how to fight and kill couldn’t possibly say those two words.

“Done looking?”

“I’m leaving!”

Li Buyan tucked away the papers, not wasting a single word, and rushed off.

This was the proper attitude for getting things done!

Young Master Pei straightened his clothes before walking out of the privy.

Returning to the table, Xie Zhifei raised an eyebrow at him: Done?

Master Pei had an expression that said “Xie Wushi, how dare you not trust me.”

Xie Zhifei handed him his teacup. “It’s not that I don’t trust you—I don’t trust that Great Hero Li.”

Pei Xiao, reminded by him, suddenly felt uneasy: Great minds truly think alike!

“Look, a young lady has come out.”

“It’s Lanxin.”

“How long has it been already?”

“This girl dances well, plays music well. If she also excels in poetry, this year’s courtesan will fall to her.”

“In my opinion, she deserves it.”

“Quick, look—she’s picking up the brush.”

On stage, Lanxin raised her brush and her right hand flew rapidly across the long scroll, almost without pause, completing it in one breath.

Two maids waited for the ink to dry, then held the long scroll horizontally before them. A scholar approached and read the poem line by line…

“For a woman to write such an exquisitely perfect poem—remarkable!”

“Full of spirit!”

“Truly a masterpiece!”

“A wondrous person!”

“There’s no suspense left—she’s won for sure.”

Xie Zhifei and Pei Xiao looked at each other, both with gloomy faces: No suspense—we’ve definitely lost.

Though they both understood nothing about writing poetry or verse, they could still tell whether a poem was good or bad.

They could hardly believe that Lanxin’s poetry was at a level above both Huairen and Eldest Brother—even among this crowd of scholars, it stood out.

Finished.

All that effort wasted, and it delayed actual work.