Poet Immortal, Poet Sage, Duke of the State!

The three judges admired the poem for a long time, still savoring its imagery.

The competition was to continue. Li Yannian was the first to come to his senses, walked to the bamboo tube, shook it, and drew out the second bamboo stick.

He glanced at the bamboo sticks and announced loudly, "The topic for the second round is 'Wine'."

The three exchanged a glance, a hint of expectation appearing in their eyes.

Whether it's "sorrow" in the first round or "wine" in the second round, these are the most common images used by literati in writing poems and lyrics. From ancient times to the present, countless masterpieces have been created with poetry and wine as their themes.

All three of them wanted to see what kind of surprise Lin Wenjing and Xiao Qingshuang could give them on this most common topic.

Li Yannian showed the bamboo skewers to Lin Wenjing and Qing Shuang, and asked, "Do you two ladies have any objections?"

Lin Wenjing shook her head slightly and said, "No objection."

She has written many poems about wine. Although she lost the first round, she still has a chance to turn the tables in this round.

Qing Shuang shook her head as well: "I have no objection either."

Li Yannian nodded and said, "Then please write a poem each, on the theme of 'wine,' within the time limit of one incense stick. There are no restrictions on the type of poetry."

Lin Wenjing glanced at Qing Shuang, but instead of immediately putting pen to paper as before, she sat back down in her seat and fell into thought.

Qing Shuang returned to her seat and pretended to be thinking.

Of course, she wasn't thinking about how to write poetry, but rather what to eat when she got back.

Chen Chang'an stood dutifully behind Qing Shuang, reaching out to gently knead her shoulder, trying his best to play the role of her personal maid.

When the long incense stick on the table was half-burned, Lin Wenjing finally made a move.

She glanced at Qing Shuang first, then picked up her brush, dipped it in ink, and began writing rapidly on the Xuan paper in front of her.

After finishing writing, she glanced at Qing Shuang again, breathed a sigh of relief, and slowly put down her pen.

The servant immediately presented her poem to the three judges.

Shen Bo'an took the paper and read softly: "Alone I pour a cup of wine on a cold night, and before I know it, dusk has fallen. In my drunken state, I am unaware that I am a guest; when I wake up, the moon is full over the door."

After reading it aloud, he nodded slightly: "Using wine to express loneliness, both drunkenness and sobriety are filled with desolation. The line 'When I wake up, the moon is full over the door' has a lingering charm and can be considered a fine work for women in their boudoirs."

Gu Huaiyuan nodded: "It is graceful and well-structured, with a serene and detached charm. It describes the sorrow of drinking alone, which is quite fitting for the topic."

Both judges gave positive feedback. Although Lin Wenjing's poem was good, it was not amazing. There were many people in the capital who could write such poems.

What they were really looking forward to was seeing what remarkable performance Qing Shuang, the author of "An old steed in its stall still aspires to gallop a thousand miles" and "Yet she says, 'What a fine autumn day!'" could deliver.

Li Yannian did not comment on Lin Wenjing, but looked directly at Qing Shuang and said, "Miss Xiao, the time allotted for an incense stick to burn is almost up. I wonder if you have made up your mind?"

Qing Shuang nodded slightly, then leaned close to Chen Chang'an's ear again and whispered a few words in a pretentious manner.

Chen Chang'an lowered his eyes, nodded seriously, then walked to the long table, picked up the brush, and began to write.

The crowd watching from a distance began to whisper again.

"Are you having the maid write it again?"

"The airs of a military family are really something..."

"As long as the poem is well-written, who cares who wrote it..."

In a private room on the third floor, Yang Yuchan rolled her eyes at Qing Shuang and said with a pout, "What a pretentious act..."

After Chen Chang'an finished writing, the servant picked up the paper and respectfully handed it to Li Yannian.

Li Yannian took the note, looked at it, and then slowly spoke.

"Liangzhou Ballad"

"Fine wine in a luminous cup, I long to drink, but the pipa urges me on."

His voice paused for a moment, and Gu Huaiyuan and Shen Bo'an beside him leaned over at the same time.

Upon reading the last two lines, Li Yannian suddenly cleared his throat and raised his voice, saying, "Do not laugh at me, drunk and lying on the battlefield; how many have returned from ancient battles..."

After reading the last sentence, none of the three judges spoke immediately.

Do not laugh at me, drunk and lying on the battlefield; how many have returned from ancient battles?

It was clearly about life and death, but it was lightly glossed over with the three words "Lord Grim".

Such magnanimity and boldness could never have been written without a military family background, without witnessing the life and death of soldiers on the frontier, and without a profound understanding of life and death.

Their gazes involuntarily turned to Qing Shuang, as if they were seeing not a seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl, but a seasoned veteran who had fought on the battlefield.

Li Yannian put down the paper, looked at Qing Shuang, and his eyes already held a hint of admiration. He said, "I have read countless poems in my life, but if we are talking about frontier poems, this one should be number one. Young lady, you are very talented. I admire you!"

This poem further proves that the earlier poem "Though the Tortoise Lives Long" was also written by her.

This young girl is so young, but her understanding of life and her insights into life and death are no less profound than those of these old folks, and may even surpass them.

Qing Shuang glanced at Chen Chang'an, then guiltily clasped her hands in a fist salute to Li Yannian and said, "You flatter me, Grand Secretary Li."

Li Yannian shook his head and solemnly said, "I am not flattered. Based on this poem and lyric today alone, you are undoubtedly the most talented woman in the capital... no, in Da Ning!"

The three referees did not announce the result of the second game, but the outcome of the match was already self-evident.

Today, the guests at Wangyue Tower include many literary talents who can distinguish the quality of poetry.

At this moment, the crowd was already in an uproar.

"Fine wine in a luminous cup under the moonlight... Can frontier poetry be written like this?"

"This is the kind of poetry a military family should have. Miss Lin's poem about drinking alone sounds too petty..."

"Do not laugh at me, drunk and lying on the battlefield; how many have returned from ancient battles... Only a man from a military family could write such a poem."

"Miss Xiao is the most talented woman in our Great Ning!"

……

Lin Wenjing sat in the chair and slowly closed her eyes.

She lost.

They lost convincingly.

She could still attribute Xiao Qingshuang's inspiration to the poem "A young girl knows not the taste of sorrow," but given enough time, Lin Wenjing might not be unable to write such a poem either.

But this frontier poem made her realize the gap between herself and Xiao Qingshuang.

The two are simply not comparable in strength.

She opened her eyes, slowly stood up, walked to Qing Shuang, and said earnestly, "Miss Xiao, I lost today's competition. I accept my defeat wholeheartedly. You are truly the most talented woman in the capital..."

After saying that, she turned and left, her back view utterly desolate.

Qing Shuang stood there in a daze, secretly swallowing her saliva.

She simply couldn't stand the arrogant attitude of these talented women and didn't want her family to be insulted and ridiculed, so she went to Chen Chang'an for help...

She only wanted to win a small victory over Lin Wenjing, but she never expected things to escalate to this extent.

She glanced at Chen Chang'an again, wondering to herself, "Young Master Shen is clearly not from a military family, so how come he can write such good poems about military families?"

"Don't laugh at me, drunk and lying on the battlefield; how many have returned from ancient battles?" These two lines of poetry stirred her blood, and she even wanted to find someone to fight on the spot...