I'll steal Gao Qiu's life and lead the Song Dynasty to prosperity.

Three days later, the day of the assembly arrived.

It was May, and the peonies in the Yichun Garden of the Imperial Academy were in full bloom, a sea of ​​pink, white and crimson, setting off the pavilions and waterside terraces like a painting.

When Zhao Mingcheng entered the garden with his classmates from the Imperial Academy, the sun had just risen above the treetops.

Today he wore a moon-white cross-collar shirt, with a light blue half-sleeved jacket over it, and a matching silk sash around his waist, dressed in a refreshing yet dignified manner.

The other students traveling with us were also dressed up carefully.

After all, they were meeting with the royal family today, and no one wanted to lose face.

"Brother Mingcheng, look over there."

His classmate, Wang Yan, nudged him with his elbow and lowered his voice.

Zhao Mingcheng looked in the direction he indicated.

In the pavilion beside the waterside terrace, several people were already seated, each dressed in fine clothes and exuding an air of distinction. Two of them stood out particularly:

A young man, about eighteen or nineteen years old, wearing a crimson round-necked robe, with a handsome face, was holding a fan and chatting with someone nearby;

Another person, dressed in a dark blue robe, listened quietly to the others with a gentle expression.

It was Prince Duan, Zhao Ji, and Prince Jian, Zhao Si.

Zhao Mingcheng looked at Zhao Ji from afar, a man of elegant bearing and striking good looks.

That was the future Emperor Huizong of Song—Zhao Ji, the artistic genius and the last emperor of the Northern Song Dynasty, whom people came to know more than nine hundred years later through historical records and calligraphy and paintings.

At this time, Zhao Ji was just a carefree young prince, with a relaxed and carefree air about him, completely unaware of the later twists and turns and sorrows.

Another classmate, Li Guan, whispered,

"I've heard that Prince Jian is calm and composed, unlike Prince Duan who is... well, carefree."

The words were spoken subtly, but everyone understood.

Emperor Huizong (Zhao Ji) was known in the Bianjing imperial family circle for his love of playing, calligraphy and painting, and all things refined and elegant.

Zhao Si, on the other hand, was more like a typical member of the royal family, always following the rules and being cautious in his words and actions.

"Everyone has their own way of living." Zhao Mingcheng withdrew his gaze, smiled faintly, and said, "Let's go, it's time to pay our respects."

The students stepped forward in order to pay their respects to the two princes and the other members of the imperial family present. After exchanging pleasantries, everyone took their seats, and the gathering officially began.

The first item is naturally poetry.

Maids brought over writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, while others carried in a long table, on which seasonal fresh fruits and tea snacks were laid out.

According to the rules, members of the imperial family started first, followed by students of the Imperial Academy.

Prince Jian, Zhao Si, was the first to pick up his pen, and after a moment's thought, he wrote a five-character regulated poem about peonies.

His poetry is dignified and well-structured, with appropriate allusions, which perfectly matches the impression he gives people.

Everyone praised it.

Next came several members of the imperial clan. Some wrote poems, and some wrote lyrics. Their skill levels varied, but they were all passable.

When it was the Imperial Academy's turn, Wang Yan took the lead and composed a seven-character quatrain about Jinming Pond.

The poem was elegant and beautiful, and was praised by several members of the imperial family. Li Guan wrote a poem called "Partridge Sky", which was also quite good, with a graceful and subtle meaning.

Zhao Mingcheng watched quietly, already having made up his mind.

He would never plagiarize when writing poetry.

Firstly, there's no need for it. Although Zhao Mingcheng's original body's poetry skills weren't exceptionally brilliant, they were still above average.

Secondly, his future wife is the greatest woman of all time...

Thinking of this, a scene inexplicably appeared before Zhao Mingcheng's eyes:

Years later, a talented but arrogant young woman from Bianjing became his wife.

One day under the lamp, she suddenly blinked her clear eyes, holding Zhao Mingcheng's poetry collection and asked a question.

"My lord, what is the brilliance of the line 'I searched for him a thousand times in the crowd' in your poem 'Green Jade Table - Lantern Festival'? I have pondered it for three days and feel that its power is endless. How did you obtain the inspiration that day?"

Should he say it was "a chance encounter in a dream" or "just something I made up while drunk"?

With her keen insight and literary talent, she'll probably be able to expose Zhao Mingcheng's true colors in just a few questions.

Not only that, if Zhao Mingcheng were to become famous for his poetic talent now, and later become a favorite of Emperor Huizong,

At that time, whenever Emperor Huizong was in a literary whim, he would inevitably ask him to write a fitting poem to celebrate the occasion, which would be a real problem.

Based on Zhao Mingcheng's understanding of history, Zhao Ji was absolutely capable of doing such a thing.

Therefore, you must not copy, absolutely not.

When it was Zhao Mingcheng's turn, he got up, walked to the desk, picked up his brush, thought for a moment, and wrote a poem entitled "On the Spot in Yichun Garden":

"A winding stream encircles the pavilions, and blooming flowers reflect the sunlight."

A breeze carries fragrance to my sleeves, birds fly by and their shadows linger.

A scholar composes a new verse, while a prince holds up a jade cup.

"This place is truly delightful; why bother asking about Penglai?"

This poem is neither amazing nor mediocre; it is well-structured and appropriate for the occasion, and is entirely at Zhao Mingcheng's own level.

The final couplet, "This place is truly a joyous place; why bother asking about Penglai?", praises Yichun Garden while subtly complimenting everyone present, striking the perfect balance.

"What a wonderful line, 'Why bother asking about Penglai?'" Prince Jian Zhao nodded and smiled. "This poem is indeed magnanimous."

Prince Duan, Zhao Ji, also looked at the poem and commented on it.

"Hmm... the handwriting is also quite good, it has some of the style of Ouyang Xiu."

"Your Highness is too kind," Zhao Mingcheng bowed.

The poetry recitation session lasted for about an hour, during which everyone showed off their skills, and the atmosphere gradually became lively.

The maids removed the brushes and ink, replaced them with fresh tea and snacks, and the next activity was calligraphy and painting.

This is the main event of the day.

Two long tables were set up side by side, covered with Xuan paper, and all the necessary brushes, ink, and pigments were provided.

On the side of the imperial clan, Zhao Sixian stood up and smiled at Zhao Ji.

"My handwriting is terrible, and my drawing is even worse, so I won't embarrass myself. Eleventh Brother, would you like to try?"

All eyes turned to Zhao Ji.

Zhao Ji smiled, did not refuse, and got up to walk to the table.

The maid had already ground the ink for him. He picked up the brush, hesitated for a moment, and then began to write on the paper.

The room was completely silent, except for the soft scratching of pens on paper.

Zhao Mingcheng got up and quietly walked to the edge of the crowd. From this angle, he could see the entire process of Zhao Ji painting.

Emperor Huizong of Song painted his most skillful ink bamboo paintings.

Zhao Ji wielded his brush with incredible speed, his strokes sometimes sharp as a knife, sometimes light as a feather.

In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, several slender bamboos have already appeared on the paper, with lush branches and leaves, exuding a dignified and awe-inspiring spirit.

With the final stroke, he inscribed in the lower right corner: "Painted by Ji at Yichun Garden in the fifth month of the year Yimao."

"Excellent!" Prince Jian, Zhao Si, was the first to clap his hands. "Eleventh Brother's bamboo truly embodies the spirit of a gentleman!"

People crowded around, praising him endlessly.

"His Highness Prince Duan is a master of both calligraphy and painting; this bamboo painting has truly come to life!"

"Your Highness's bamboo possesses the spirit of ancient sages!"...

Emperor Huizong had heard so many insincere compliments that he was immune to them and felt no emotional turmoil.

After everyone had finished speaking, Zhao Mingcheng slowly stepped forward to examine the painting closely.

He watched for a while before speaking.

"Your Highness's bamboo painting is wonderful not only because of its resemblance to bamboo, but also because of its brushwork."

Emperor Huizong of Song was about to put down his pen when he heard this and looked up at him.

"Oh? Tell me about it."

Zhao Mingcheng pointed to the bamboo stalk leaning out to the right of the picture.

"Your Highness, look here. When people paint bamboo branches, they often choose rounded and smooth strokes to achieve a natural appearance. But Your Highness's stroke is different. You pause slightly at the beginning, then suddenly lift the brush tip in the middle to reveal the flying white strokes, and then press down heavily at the end. This is no longer 'painting bamboo,' but using bamboo to express the pent-up feelings in your heart."

Zhao Mingcheng paused, and seeing a glint of light in Zhao Ji's eyes, he continued.

"And these bamboo leaves, ordinary people paint bamboo leaves with a focus on realism, but Your Highness's leaves, though seemingly randomly painted, actually have each leaf's direction, shade, and size subtly echoing the brushstrokes of calligraphy. Especially these few leaves—"

Zhao Mingcheng pointed his finger in a daze.

"This is clearly a variant of the character '之' in Chu Suiliang's 'Preface to the Sacred Teachings of the Wild Goose Pagoda'."

The hall suddenly fell silent.

Several members of the imperial clan who had been praising the "vivid spirit" fell silent and looked at each other in bewilderment.

Upon hearing this, Zhao Ji smiled, his eyes crinkling with laughter.

"What's your name? Did you write that poem just now?"

"Your Highness, I am Zhao Mingcheng, a student of the Imperial Academy."

Zhao Mingcheng bowed.

"My work is crude and unrefined; I hope Your Highness will forgive my poor writing."

"Zhao Mingcheng..." Zhao Ji repeated the name.

"Could he be the son of the Zhao family?"

"It is indeed my father."

"No wonder you have such literary talent." Zhao Ji nodded, his gaze returning to the painting. "You just said that the bamboo leaves I painted have the brushwork of Chu Suiliang. Continue, I'd like to hear more."

Zhao Mingcheng was no longer restrained, discussing everything from composition to ink usage, from the "broken hairpin" brushstroke at the bamboo joints to the "treating white as black" technique of leaving blank spaces between leaves.

The original owner of this body was originally a scholar of epigraphy.

He is very knowledgeable about the origins and evolution of calligraphy and brushwork, and can readily offer his insights at this moment.

It discusses painting, calligraphy, and the relationship between brushwork and temperament.

Zhao Ji listened attentively, nodding occasionally and asking a question now and then, which Zhao Mingcheng always answered correctly.

As they got to the point, the two almost forgot there were other people around them. One spoke and the other listened, as if they were discussing art in a study.

"...Therefore, I believe that the beauty of Your Highness's bamboo painting lies in the phrase 'incorporating calligraphy into painting'."

Zhao Mingcheng concluded by saying,

"The idea that calligraphy and painting share a common origin has existed since ancient times. But it is truly rare to find someone like Your Highness who can integrate the essence of calligraphy into painting without appearing deliberate, creating a seamless whole."

After a moment of silence, Zhao Ji suddenly asked Zhao Mingcheng.

How long have you been studying calligraphy?

"The student has been practicing calligraphy since childhood, for about ten years."

"Who is Lin?"

"I first studied Yan Zhenqing's style, then Liu Gongquan's, and recently I've been practicing copying Chu Suiliang's 'Yin Fu Jing'," Zhao Mingcheng answered fluently.

"No wonder you have such a good eye." Prince Duan laughed, pointing to the signature on the painting. "Then tell me, what do you think of my calligraphy?"

Everyone held their breath.

Judging paintings is one thing, but judging the prince's calligraphy is another matter entirely.

To put it too harshly would be offensive, to put it too lightly would be perfunctory, and neither would be appropriate.

Zhao Mingcheng stepped forward calmly and carefully examined the ten characters: "Painted by Ji in Yichun Garden in the fifth month of the year Yimao".

After looking at it for a while, he gently stroked the characters written by Zhao Ji.

"Your Highness's calligraphy already possesses its own unique charm."

Zhao Ji raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me about it."

"Your Highness's brushwork is characterized by clear beginnings and endings. Horizontal strokes end with a hook, vertical strokes end with a dot, and the left-falling strokes are like daggers, while the right-falling strokes are like slicing knives. The most exquisite part is the turning points."

As Zhao Mingcheng spoke, he gestured in the air.

"His calligraphy is sharp and vigorous, like the joints of bamboo. As a student, I can see that His Highness has his own unique style in this calligraphy. It is not a mere imitation of the ancients, but rather a creation of new ideas within the framework of ancient methods."

After he finished speaking, there was a moment of silence.

Emperor Huizong stared intently at Zhao Mingcheng for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

"Mingcheng has a good eye."

The smile became much more genuine, and the previous sense of distance dissipated.

"To be honest," Zhao Ji gestured to a servant to bring over an embroidered stool, allowing Zhao Mingcheng to sit beside him.

"I have practiced calligraphy for many years, and I always felt that although the methods of the ancients were wonderful, they lacked a certain... strength and vigor. Recently, I tried to incorporate the brushstrokes of bamboo painting into calligraphy, but it was not yet complete, and I did not expect that you would see through it."

"It is Your Highness's exceptional talent," Zhao Mingcheng said sincerely.

"As the ancients said, 'The handwriting reflects the person.' Your Highness's calligraphy has the strength of bamboo and the elegance of orchid. Given time, it will surely develop into a unique style."

"The student believes that the structure could be further tightened, with the central part tightened and the four sides opened up, which might better reflect this lean, firm, and spiritual charm."

As Zhao Mingcheng spoke, he made a few cursory strokes on the table with his fingertips.

These strokes are precisely the typical structure of the Slender Gold style.

At this time, Zhao Ji had not yet created his own famous calligraphy.

His gaze followed Zhao Mingcheng's fingertips, first filled with doubt, then gradually brightening, and finally showing a hint of excitement.

Looking at the characters, Zhao Ji even had a feeling of "natural affinity".

How could they not fit together?

This font was originally created by Emperor Huizong of Tang (Zhao Ji).

"The central palace tightens, the four dimensions open up, this character, this character..."

Zhao Ji murmured to himself, completely absorbed in what he was watching.

suddenly!

Zhao Ji grabbed another piece of paper and quickly wrote a few words on it. The characters were even thinner and more upright than the previous ones, revealing their sharpness.

After writing it, he stared at the line of words for a long time, then looked up at Zhao Mingcheng, his eyes gleaming.

"Mingcheng, you...you've perfectly captured what I've been thinking!"

Upon hearing this, Zhao Mingcheng knew he was in the game.

At this time, Zhao Ji was just a young man obsessed with art.

His greatest desire was not power, but "soulmates," people who could truly understand his artistic pursuits.

Emperor Huizong calmed his surprise, but he couldn't hide the smile on his face.

"Mingcheng, how old are you this year?"

"The student is nineteen years old this year."

"What a coincidence, I'm also nineteen. No need for formalities." Prince Duan's tone became even more amiable. "Have you discussed what you just said with anyone?"

"No," Zhao Mingcheng shook his head. "These are just my own thoughts, and they may not be correct. I hope Your Highness will forgive my ignorance."

"No, you're absolutely right." Zhao Ji took a deep breath, looked at his own handwriting, then at Zhao Mingcheng, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"I have indeed been thinking about a new way of writing recently, trying to combine the strengths of various schools to create a new style of calligraphy that is slender and sharp. However, I am still exploring and it has not yet become a system. You have given me a lot of inspiration and can be called a kindred spirit."

Upon hearing Zhao Ji's words, everyone in the hall changed their expressions.

A kindred spirit!

Prince Duan actually used the word "soulmate" to describe a student of the Imperial Academy!

In this dynasty, no one understood Emperor Huizong better than Zhao Mingcheng.

What a top-tier artist-emperor truly craves is not the groveling of his subjects, but the resonance and emotional value of kindred spirits.

Why was Gao Qiu favored? Was it really just because he had a good shot?

No, it's because Gao Qiu understood Zhao Ji's thoughts and could provide him with emotional value while playing with him.

However, Gao Qiu's education level was limited, and apart from Cuju (ancient Chinese football), he could not bring Zhao Ji a deeper level of resonance.

Zhao Mingcheng remained calm and bowed.

"Your Highness flatters me. I was merely speaking off the cuff, just having a fleeting thought."

"Whether I'm talking nonsense or not, I know myself."

Zhao Ji waved his hand, then suddenly remembered something.

"By the way, Mingcheng, I heard that a new 'Flowing Cloud Cuju Master' has recently emerged at the Imperial Academy, with superb Cuju skills. Is that you?"

Zhao Mingcheng was slightly taken aback, then bowed respectfully.

"Your Highness, these are just nicknames my classmates made up to tease me. They shouldn't be taken seriously."

"Then it's you." Zhao Ji's smile deepened. "Perfect timing. There's a football match coming up later. I enjoy playing football myself, so how about you join my team?"

The prince invited the imperial students to play Cuju (ancient Chinese football) together; what a great honor that was!

Zhao Mingcheng suppressed his excitement and bowed respectfully.

"Your Highness's kindness is an honor for this student."

"Alright, it's settled then." Prince Duan was in high spirits and turned to the crowd, saying, "That concludes the calligraphy and painting session. Gentlemen, how about we move to the football field?"

Everyone echoed their agreement, and the atmosphere became lively again.

However, the way he looked at Zhao Mingcheng was completely different from before.

At that moment, a clear bell rang out in the garden.

The waiter announced this loudly.

"The football match will begin in fifteen minutes. Please proceed to the football field!"

Everyone stood up, and Zhao Ji also stood up and patted Zhao Mingcheng on the shoulder.

"Mingcheng, go change into some light clothes and let me see if your ball skills are as good as your knowledge suggests."

"Your Highness, I will certainly not disappoint you."