Chapter Thirteen: A Masterpiece That Shook the World!

Li Yunjie wrote each character with resounding determination, his resolve unwavering. Ignoring the stares of those around him, he shook out his sleeves, grasped the brush, and swept it across the paper. Ink flew in bold strokes, and the first line of the poem came alive upon the page!

Zhao Hong, who had been hiding his sorrow behind his hands, caught a glimpse of the half-written verse through his fingers and was instantly struck dumb with amazement.

“The western wind ages the waves of Dongting Lake,
In one night, the Lady of Xiang finds her hair turned white…”

Zhao Hong recited the line almost trembling.

In that instant, the noise within the Bureau of Entertainments fell utterly silent! Every gaze turned toward Li Yunjie, who was writing swiftly and decisively. It was as if time itself had stilled; even the drop of a silver needle would have rung out clearly.

“Drunk, I know not if the sky rests upon the water,
A boatful of lucid dreams presses down the Milky Way…”

When he finished reading the second half, Zhao Heng’s legs gave out, and he stumbled, nearly collapsing onto the table.

“What a poem!”
“Splendid!”
“Marvelous! Marvelous!”
Zhao Hong, unable to contain his excitement, snatched up the sheet of rice paper before the ink had even dried. He paced the narrow aisle before the dais three times, clutching it in his hands. Around him, the onlookers craned their necks, hungrily devouring the lines of this world-shaking work.

“The imagery is profound and boundless, like a wild horse unbridled!”
“The scene is painted as if in a dream, where illusion and reality intertwine!”
“Each character shines like a pearl, a tapestry of natural beauty!”
“…”
In a heartbeat, the hall was awash with praise. The crowd’s attitude had reversed completely. Even Wu Jin’s own followers could not help but applaud.

The victor and the vanquished were immediately clear.

“Young Master Wu!” Zhao Hong called out to Wu Jin, “I wonder, as a great poet yourself, what do you make of this verse?”

Wu Jin steadied himself, his voice uncertain. “This… this poem, I admit, has a certain atmosphere.”

“But…” Wu Jin furrowed his brow, searching desperately for a flaw.

Try as he might, he could find none.

“Lost your tongue?” Zhao Hong, now brimming with pride, continued to goad him.

At this, Wu Jin resembled a deflated ball. Though his face flushed with suppressed rage, he could only swallow it down.

While the two camps stood locked in silent confrontation, the blue-robed maid from before tiptoed onto the stage. She offered Li Yunjie a gentle smile and said, “Sir, Lady Mengzhi invites you to her chambers for a private conversation.”

With this, Wu Jin’s defeat was sealed. Snorting coldly, he gathered his followers and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

“Brother Zichuan.” No sooner had Wu Jin left than Zhao Hong sidled up with a sly grin. “Tonight, you must be gentle with our fair lady!”

Li Yunjie rolled his eyes at him. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m a gentleman, through and through!”

Zhao Hong’s eyes went wide. “Is this really the Brother Zichuan I know?!”

…

The Imperial Academy.

Hall of Biyong.

The bright moon hung high. An elder in white stood with his hands folded behind his back atop the dragon-carved tiles of the roof. This was He Xianzhong, the Director of the Imperial Academy.

“Thirty years…” He Xianzhong gazed with a smile toward Ren’an Street. “It seems the literary world of Great Qian is about to witness the rise of a genius!”

As his words faded, several clusters of light lingering above the Bureau of Entertainments transformed into a golden radiance. Under He Xianzhong’s watchful eyes, it shot through the night sky, piercing the clouds before bursting like fireworks and scattering as shimmering motes across the land.

“It’s been so long since I’ve felt such rich and pure literary spirit…”

Meanwhile, at the Taihu Academy, Gong Qingfeng also gazed skyward, a faint smile on his lips. “It seems this year’s Crane Mountain Poetry Gathering will be a spectacle to behold!”

…

The inner chamber.

Zhou Mengzhi’s boudoir.

The moment he entered, Li Yunjie was captivated by the fragrance of flowers that filled the air. Inside the white, translucent canopy, a graceful figure could just be glimpsed, stirring the heart with longing.

“In the end, I know not if the sky rests upon the water,
A boatful of lucid dreams presses down the Milky Way…”

Zhou Mengzhi hummed the verse in a low, enchanting voice, the dim candlelight lending the room an even more intimate air.

“Never have I encountered such exquisite lines,” she said softly. “Your talent is unmatched, sir. That I may meet you is a blessing across three lifetimes.”

As she spoke, Zhou Mengzhi sat up on the bed. Her pale, lovely feet gently parted the gauze, a red cord with golden bells tinkling at her ankle. The flickering candlelight illuminated a face of breathtaking beauty. Rising on tiptoe, she approached, the cloud-hued violet gown slipping from her shoulders to reveal skin smooth as polished jade.

Even the well-traveled Li Yunjie was stunned for a moment.

But desire was far from his mind at this moment.

“Zhou Jingzhi—is he your elder brother?” Li Yunjie asked directly.

At the mention of Zhou Jingzhi’s name, Zhou Mengzhi’s face paled instantly.

“How… how do you know?” she stammered.

By convention, visitors to the Bureau of Entertainments sought only pleasure, never inquiring about the women’s backgrounds. For Li Yunjie to know her brother’s name was highly irregular.

“You bear a striking resemblance to your brother,” Li Yunjie offered as an excuse. If he told her the truth, she might well take him for her brother’s murderer.

That was not his purpose here.

“You… knew my brother?” Tears shimmered in Zhou Mengzhi’s eyes.

Li Yunjie nodded, his expression wistful. “Jingzhi and I were classmates at the Imperial Academy.”

“No wonder,” Zhou Mengzhi murmured, “you could compose such wondrous poetry.”

She seemed to recall something and looked up at Li Yunjie. “Might I ask, sir, how my brother came to die so unjustly?”

Her tone was urgent, clearly disbelieving the official account of Zhou Jingzhi’s suicide in disgrace.

Li Yunjie was silent for a long moment. “Your brother… he killed someone.”

The academy’s seals, the sword wound on his left arm, and Zhou Jingzhi’s own testimony—all pointed to his involvement in the case.

“Impossible!” Zhou Mengzhi’s eyes fell, her voice trembling with emotion. “My brother was a man of integrity—he would never break the law! He must have been framed!”

As she spoke, the candlelight flickered, mirroring her restless, unsettled heart.

“And His Highness, the Crown Prince?” Zhou Mengzhi wiped her tears. “My brother served as one of his retainers. Why did the Crown Prince not protect him?”

Li Yunjie hesitated, unsure how to answer. After a long pause, he decided to tell her the truth.

“I suspect it was the Crown Prince himself who orchestrated your brother’s death.”

His words struck Zhou Mengzhi like a bolt from a clear sky. She collapsed onto the bed, her eyes darting in panic.

“No… impossible. His Highness valued my brother so highly—he couldn’t have done such a thing!”

“Valued him?” Li Yunjie asked in a low voice. “What makes you say that?”

Zhou Mengzhi was silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm:

“Three years ago, my brother was expelled from Taihu Academy. It was His Highness who recommended him to Director He, allowing him entry to the Imperial Academy. Later, thanks to the Crown Prince’s favor, my brother was appointed Registrar of the Academy. These were surely acts of appreciation—why would His Highness wish him dead?”

Li Yunjie frowned deeply.

This was classic workplace manipulation! What seemed to the Zhou siblings as acts of kindness were merely the Crown Prince’s tools for controlling people. Such trivial favors cost the Crown Prince nothing, but to the Zhou family, they appeared as proof of his regard.

This subtle influence misled Zhou Jingzhi into believing he had found a worthy master and made him willing to serve with all his heart. Utterly absurd!

Li Yunjie let out a long sigh, astounded by the Crown Prince’s cunning and sorrowful for Zhou Jingzhi’s misplaced loyalty.

“Did your brother exhibit any unusual behavior recently?” Li Yunjie pressed.

Zhou Mengzhi shook her head. “He seldom came home. It has been three months since I last saw him.”

As she spoke, a sudden thought struck her, and she looked up abruptly…