Poet Immortal, Poet Sage, Duke of the State!

As Gu Huaiyuan finished speaking, the hall fell silent for a moment, followed by laughter from several examiners.

"Ten poems?"

"Does this candidate perhaps think that the poetry exam is about who has written the most?"

"Could he have misunderstood the rules and thought he had to write a poem for every image?"

"How did someone like that pass the county and prefectural examinations?"

……

All the other officials were laughing, but Gu Huaiyuan was the only one who didn't.

He initially thought that the candidate had written ten poems in an attempt to increase the quantity, until he saw the first poem on the exam paper.

The relevant image in this poem is the chrysanthemum.

Chrysanthemum in Winter.

"It blooms not among a hundred flowers, but alone by the sparse fence, its charm is endless. It would rather die fragrant on the branch than be blown away by the north wind."

This poem, which uses the chrysanthemum's characteristic of withering on the branch but not being blown off by the north wind, symbolizes unwavering loyalty until death. It is clearly a poem that uses the chrysanthemum to express one's aspirations, and it immediately reminded Gu Huaiyuan of those national heroes in history who were loyal to their emperors and loved their country and had great integrity.

Gu Huaiyuan has spent his whole life appreciating poetry, and this poem deserves to be ranked first!

"I'd rather die fragrant on the branch than be blown away by the north wind"—this line has become a famous saying throughout the ages!

His gaze continued downwards; the second poem was about the moon.

Thoughts on a Quiet Night.

The bright moonlight shines before my bed, I wonder if it is frost on the ground. I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, then lower my head and think of my hometown.

This poem, a very short five-character poem with only twenty characters, has a profound artistic conception. It uses extremely simple language to express the homesickness of travelers all over the world.

If you are a beginner in learning poetry, or an ordinary poetry enthusiast, you may find this poem too simplistic, lacking unique and novel imagination, and without exquisite and beautiful language. It seems like it was written by a child and has no highlights.

But in the eyes of Gu Huaiyuan, a literary giant who has immersed himself in poetry all his life, this poem has reached a state of effortless mastery and a return to simplicity.

Those who don't understand poetry will find reading this poem like a frog in a well trying to see the moon in the sky.

The more one understands poetry, the more one sees this poem, like a mayfly glimpsing the blue sky.

This poem deserves the highest grade!

Gu Huaiyuan eagerly looked at the third poem, whose imagery was snow.

"The north wind sweeps across the land, snapping the white grass; in the eighth month of the lunar calendar, snow flies in the northern sky. Suddenly, as if a spring breeze has arrived overnight, thousands of pear trees bloom."

An unprecedented light shone in Gu Huaiyuan's eyes, and he almost couldn't help but look at the fourth and fifth poems...

"A tall tree, adorned like jade, with ten thousand green silk ribbons hanging down. Who could have cut such delicate leaves? The spring breeze of February is like a pair of scissors."

"I am willing to draw the sword at my waist and slay the Loulan..."

"Having fought a hundred battles in golden armor, we will not return until Lou Lan is conquered..."

"Wildfire cannot burn it all; the spring breeze brings it back to life..."

"The cicadas chirp mournfully, as evening falls on the long pavilion..."

"The face is gone, I know not where; the peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze..."

"The bright moon shines among the pines, and the clear spring flows over the rocks..."

……

Looking at these ten poems, Gu Huaiyuan was so shocked that he couldn't speak.

Ten images, ten poems, each a masterpiece in its own right, each one enough to win first place in the poetry and lyrics examinations of past imperial examinations.

But at this moment, they are lying side by side on the same exam paper.

His first thought was, "Did this person cheat?"

These ten poems are stylistically diverse, ranging from bold and unrestrained lines like "I would gladly draw my sword to slay the Loulan," to delicate and graceful lines like "The cicadas chirp sadly as evening falls on the long pavilion," and to resolute lines like "I would rather die embracing the fragrance of a branch." There is no discernible unified style among them.

How could one person write so many poems with such different styles at the same time?

Not to mention those candidates couldn't do it, even Gu Huaiyuan himself, including the examiners present here today, these titans of the poetry world, none of them could do it.

The only possibility is that this person knew the imperial examination questions in advance and had someone write the poems corresponding to these images. Otherwise, how could he have written ten poems with different styles in such a short time? Is he a poetic genius?

If someone really cheated in the imperial examinations...

That would be a major incident with extremely serious consequences, inevitably leading to bloodshed, and as the examiner, I might also be implicated...

Thinking of this, Gu Huaiyuan's face turned pale.

In the side hall, someone noticed his unusual behavior.

Shen Bo'an sat to his right and, noticing his pale face, asked, "Brother Gu, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell? Would you like to rest for a while?"

Gu Huaiyuan did not answer, but simply reached out and pushed the exam paper towards Shen Bo'an.

Shen Bo'an took it, his eyes first sweeping over the densely packed characters on the paper.

Although there is no limit to the number of poems one can write, he was still quite shocked to see that someone could write so many.

He looked down and read carefully. When he read the line "I'd rather die embracing the fragrance on the branch," his eyebrows twitched slightly. After finishing the poem "Quiet Night Thoughts," he sat up completely straight.

His gaze swept rapidly across one song after another, and with each song, his breathing quickened.

When he reached the sixth poem, "Song of Joining the Army," he subconsciously recited: "Having fought a hundred battles in the yellow sands, clad in golden armor, I will not return until Lou Lan is conquered..."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet side room.

Loulan was an ancient kingdom in the Western Regions, a great enemy of the Central Plains dynasties, and one of the most common images in frontier poetry.

Upon hearing this, several preliminary examiners nearby simultaneously looked up.

"Having fought a hundred battles in golden armor, I will not return until Lou Lan is conquered..." An examiner stood up and murmured, "This frontier poem is comparable to 'Don't laugh at me, drunk on the battlefield; how many have returned from ancient battles?' Could it be that a talented scholar has emerged from a military family?"

Shen Bo'an had no time to answer him; his eyes were fixed on the exam paper, and his mind was already in turmoil.

Each of these ten poems is an excellent work, and it would not be an exaggeration to rate them all as "top-tier".

If a single poem appears, he will only feel gratified, knowing that the poetry scene in Daning has successors.

But the appearance of ten poems on a single exam paper brought him not comfort, but shock and fear...

Seeing that he didn't answer, the examiner became even more curious, so he simply put down his pen and walked over, standing behind Shen Bo'an and watching.

That station has remained untouched ever since.

Noticing their unusual behavior, the other examiners couldn't sit still any longer and put down their papers to gather around.

A good article is worth reading, and a fine poem is equally worth appreciating.

Soon, seven or eight heads crowded around the paper.

Subsequently, without exception, they all turned into wooden stakes, staring at the exam paper, standing there for a long time.

After an unknown amount of time, someone finally breathed a sigh of relief and slowly said, "Rather die fragrant on the branch than be blown away by the north wind, people say the chrysanthemum is the hermit among flowers. With this line, there is another avenue for chrysanthemum poetry..."

Another person chimed in: "The bright moonlight shines before my bed, I wonder if it is frost on the ground. I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, then lower my head and think of my hometown..." Twenty characters, not a single one superfluous, both simple and profound—this is the realm of great skill appearing clumsy, a level I am far from reaching...

"Who could have cut out such delicate leaves? It seems the spring breeze of February is like a pair of scissors..." Poems about willows have been written for thousands of years, but after this poem, anyone who writes about willows afterward will likely have to mention this pair of scissors...

"Wildfire cannot burn it all, the spring breeze brings it back to life... One line describes withering, the other describes flourishing, exquisite and natural, unparalleled throughout the ages."

"The face is gone, I know not where; the peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze..." Looking at the literary scene of Daning, probably few can write the story and lingering charm of this poem...