Liu Shan’s maligning of Jing Wen’s father has brought about an uneasy silence. Yet not everyone present was in mute because of the same reason.


    Anger flashed in the Thirteenth Prince’s eyes. He was now not only outraged in the place of Jing Wen, but also because this was no way to act before a prince. Within his sleeves, his fists clenched tightly, prepared to teach this fellow a lesson. Yet when he saw Jing Wen’s calmness, the Thirteenth Prince felt that the proper response would be to follow Jing Wen’s; perhaps it was best not to use violence.


    Very few people were aware that the Emperor had arranged Xiahou Jie as one of Jing Wen’s marriage candidates, so most scholars had assumed Jing Wen had arrived at the Thirteenth Prince’s household with the same intentions as they had. Hence, when Jing Wen appeared completely uninterested, it caused many of them to question Jing Wen’s rational.


    After most of the scholars had submitted their verse, a maidservant came to the pavilion and passed some news to Jing Wen. After reading the note and thanking the maidservant, Jing Wen quickly departed.


    The maidservant herself was about to depart but noticed a folded piece of paper where Jing Wen had previously sat. Thinking it was some message Jing Wen had left behind for the Thirteenth Prince, she passed it to the Thirteenth Prince.


    As the Thirteenth Prince unfolded the paper, and his eyes lit up. “Very good!”


    A tutor accompanying the prince looked over it and nodded his head. “This is not bad at all. Your Highness, you can certainly learn from it.”


    Hearing such praise from the Thirteenth Prince’s tutor, the scholars quickly grew curious. They gathered together to see the words, written in an elegant and balanced yet still bold manner; “Sunlight illuminates Incense Burner Peak, kindling violet smoke; from afar, a waterfall hangs before the river. Water plunges three thousand feet— Has the silver stream of our galaxy plunged from highest heaven?”


    Among the commotion, an especially loud comment rang out, “A fine poem. Sir Jing has imparted a common and lifelike quality to such a magnificent phenomenon. The way he writes the waterfall is no different from how one would describe sun-drying silk, with shadow and ripples of light playing upon the cloth.” Liu Shan’s supporters dared not to see the poem, so the praise must have come from one of the scholars with sympathetic towards Jing Wen.


    Liu Shan himself, however, did see the poem. Frowning, he said, “The man cannot even see; how can he describe waterfalls and silk cloth? I say that the poem must have been plagiarised in advance.”


    Looking at the scholar who originally proposed the theme, he demanded, “How much did Jing Wen pay you?”


    The scholar receiving this ‘observation’ immediately grew outraged. He had come from a family that was not any less prominent than the Liu family, yet Liu Shan thought him to be someone who would stoop so low as to accept bribes from Jing Wen? “Even if Jing Wen sells all his property, he cannot match the clothes I’m wearing; how can he bring me off!”


    Liu Shan looked at the scholar and laughed aloud. After hearing the scholar’s explanation, he grew even more affirmed in his suspicions. Jing Wen must have plagiarised the poem the night before in order to impress everyone at the Thirteenth Prince’s competition. After all, how can someone who was all brawn and no brain write such a good poem?


    Unwilling to let the matter lie, Liu Shan laughed coldly, saying, “It is a shame that Sir Jing had departed so early, or else we could have gotten more of his otherworld poetry!”


    It was clear to the scholars that Liu Shan had spoken those words ironically, making it clear to them that Liu Shan did not believe Jing Wen’s work’s genuineness.


    Jing Wen was no longer here to defend himself against Liu Shan’s accusation, yet even then, few believed in Liu Shan. What he said was too absurd; the poetry was simply too good; if someone had already written it, then surely it would be famous throughout the world.


    “A tiger father has no canine sons (虎父无犬子). Jing gege’s poems are no less exceptional than those of uncle Jing,” sighed the Thirteenth Prince.


    The scholars within the courtyard could not help but agree with Liu Shan’s previous statement’s literal meaning. It was indeed a shame that Jing Wen had already departed, or else they would have forced him to write even more otherworldly poetry!This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


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    The Southern building of manor received the least sunlight, so beneath the building ran pipes that carried warm air. The currents caused the canopy of silk covering the walkways to flutter, occasionally revealing a game of weiqi.


    Sitting at one side of the weiqi desk was an elder in plain clothes and a beard that reached the ground. The man was the former Minister of War, Linghu Qiang (令狐强). After his retirement, he began to develop an interest in weiqi, sponsoring such scholarly institutions throughout Lin’an.


    He himself was remarkably skilled at the game, developing a small reputation among the capital with his bold playstyle. While he was not a national level expert, he was still far better than the average player.


    The game had just begun, and only a few pieces were present on the board. Linghu Qiang used his index and middle finger to hold the black chess piece, placing it down gently. His movement was swift and decisive and akin to the footsteps of a marching army, the chess piece left behind a loud crack as it was placed onto the board.


    The person sitting opposite Linghu Qiang used three fingers to grip the weiqi piece. Her movement was incredibly careless, terrible in its appearance.


    The chess piece left behind a dull snap as it made contact with the board. Anyone watching would believe it to be an ordinary move.


    The bout between the two increased in speed as time passed, yet Linghu Qiang’s opponents’ moves remained perfectly ordinary. Nevertheless, weiqi was a sort of game that was impossible to understand through opening moves alone. There were simply too many empty squares to be filled, and too many playstyles one could have. It was impossible for one to decipher the thoughts of the girl through a dozen pieces alone.


    As the sun shifted position, the game of weiqi had entered into midstage, and the situation was a little more understandable.


    Linghu Qiang placed down a chess piece after a long period of contemplation. He felt the move was rather ingenious, so his moods finally lightened a little. Glancing at the girl, he gave a gentle smile and said, “Do you want some tea?”


    “What kind of tea?” the girl asked.


    Linghu Qiang replied, “Dian Hong (滇红) from Dali. It’s a bit sweet, so you will like it.”


    The girl gave an absent nod.


    A servant had been accompanying the game the entire time, so it was not long before he brought two cups of tea over.


    Linghu Qiang received the two cups, giving a faint word of thanks. Placing one by his side, he passed the other cup to the girl.


    As he did so, he briefly glanced over the board, and noticed the girl had already responded to his previous move by placing down a weiqi piece on the upper right corner of the board.


    Immediately, Linghu Qiang’s hands holding the teacup stiffened slightly, and he furrowed his eyebrows, his expression solemn and nervous.


    Tick Tick!


    Weiqi pieces continue to land upon the board, and the furrow on Linghu Qiang’s brows continued to deepen. The period between each of his moves became prolonged and slow, while the girl’s plays continued to hasten.


    “I have lost.”


    Eventually, Linghu Qiang could not find a solution to escape his predicament. Admitting the outcome with a long sigh, his voice sounded weary, but it had a hint of relief after the unloading of a burden.


    “Uncle, you have to bring some of your friends along next time,” the girl’s voice sounded completely different in comparison. It was filled with the energy of youth.


    Linghu Qiang laughed. Rubbing the girl on the head, he said, “Xiao Jie, you already challenged the masters at Lingnan. Don’t get too greedy.”


    Xiahou Jie puffed up her rosy cheeks, appearing rather adorable as she said, “Uncle, I didn’t know you are such a liar.”


    As Linghu Qiang sighed in resignation, before agreeing with the girl’s demands. Preparing to lead the girl to the courtyard to see Jing Wen, he suddenly heard the movement of weiqi pieces on more on the board. Narrowing his eyes, Linghu Qiang looked at the board and saw a set of slender fingers.


    Tracing the hand to its owner, he asked, “Who may you be?”


    “This one is Zhou Aimin.” The little Taoist said, “I was searching for a latrine, and on my way back, saw the game between you two. I hope I am not disturbing.”


    Hearing Zhou Aimin’s name, Linghu Qiang’s temperament quickly cooled. General Zhou is second only to the Emperor, as was unimaginably well respected throughout the empire. Although most people are not aware of his child, Linghu Qiang surely was.


    “Venerable Zhou, there are latrines near the rear courtyard. Why come so far to the Southern building?”


    Zhou Aimin smiled and said nothing. Sitting down where Linghu Qiang previously sat, he cupped his hands towards Xiahou Jie, saying, “Please.”


    After a brief glance at Zhou Aimin, Xiahou Jie had no hesitation in continuing the game in the slightest. It’s rare to see someone challenge her on their initiative, she thought. Reaching for a chess piece, she quickly countered the weiqi piece Zhou Aimin had placed.


    Zhou Aimin looked at Xiahou Jie, and gave a faint smile.


    Without Linghu Qiang’s long contemplation, the game was soon finished, yet that does not mean there were any fewer moves and calculations. Once the bout had ended, Linghu Qiang looked at the Young Daoist with a different kind of admiration wholly detached from the Little Taoist’s status.


    The white and black weiqi pieces were spread across the board as though crafting a picture with only two colours, each giving out a different esthetic. They were completely different existences, yet relied on each other to exist, making their destructive clash all the more sorrowful.


    The white pieces built up a mighty barrier, akin to thousands of impregnable mountains that reached towards the heavens… Yet the black pieces seemed to be the heavens themself… one could call describe them to the darkness of the universe, mysterious and indecipherable; they formed an inescapable net that captured all things.


    Zhou Aimin’s faint smile turned apologetic as he said, “Miss Xiahou, it’s natural for humans to simplify greater issues. Weiqi is a simple game, but how hard is it to understand the hearts of men or the secrets of the universe?”


    Saying that, Zhou Aimin cupped his hands towards Xiahou Jie and Linghu Qiang before departing.


    Xiahou Jie was silent for some time, before violently scattering the weiqi pieces in her hand. “I’m just playing weiqi for fun. What’s the point of getting all philosophical.”