The one thing Xiao Feng could not tolerate was someone outshining him in pretentiousness. Thus, he decided to attend the poetry gathering at the Jingjun Prince's residence to thoroughly humiliate Fan Xian while also earning some world origin points in the process.
At the grand entrance of the Jingjun Prince's residence, several scholars were flattered as they bowed to a young man. They had never expected the heir of Jingjun Prince to personally greet guests at the gate.
When a lavish eight-man sedan chair embroidered with the character "Xiao" finally appeared at the street corner, the heir's eyes lit up. Impatiently, he cupped his hands in a perfunctory salute to the scholars and strode toward the sedan chair.
Only then did the scholars realize they had been overestimating their importance. Though their expressions remained composed, inwardly, they cringed with embarrassment.
While the scholars wallowed in awkwardness, the other guests grew curious—what kind of distinguished visitor warranted the Jingjun Prince's heir personally waiting outside?
Soon, the sedan chair came to a stop at the entrance. A white jade folding fan emerged from within, slowly lifting the heavy curtain. A handsome young man clad in a black-and-gold robe stepped out of the sedan chair.
Sharp-eyed observers immediately noticed the four-clawed dragon patterns embroidered on his robe—a design reserved only for princes—and quickly deduced his identity: the famed Carefree King.
Under the enthusiastic welcome of the Jingjun Prince's heir, Xiao Feng, accompanied by two scholars in white robes, strode unhurriedly into the residence.
As they entered the rear garden with its winding corridors and flowing streams, Xiao Feng's gaze swept the surroundings before settling on the far side of the lake.
There stood a pavilion where young noblewomen sat, its perimeter veiled in layers of white gauze, revealing only faint silhouettes.
Though the customs of the Qing Kingdom were relatively liberal, the principle of "men and women should not touch when giving or receiving" still held. In such public gatherings, it was necessary to separate male and female guests to protect the women's reputations.
After withdrawing his gaze from the white curtains, Xiao Feng turned his attention to the male guests.
With the Jingjun Prince's heir making introductions, Xiao Feng soon spotted several figures of interest—chief among them the male protagonist, Fan Xian, and the "brilliant" Guo Baokun.
Fan Xian was a handsome young man, though an inexplicable arrogance lingered between his brows, reminding Xiao Feng of a husky.
At the moment, Fan Xian was being harassed by Guo Baokun and his lackeys, causing the Jingjun Prince's heir—who was busy hosting Xiao Feng—to frown in displeasure.
The heir was aligned with the Second Prince, while Guo Baokun served the Crown Prince. Their factions were naturally opposed. Seeing Guo Baokun bully a guest he had hoped to recruit at his own poetry gathering irked the heir immensely.
Were it not for his duty to attend to Xiao Feng, the heir would have taught Guo Baokun a lesson.
Just as the heir debated whether to discreetly punish Guo Baokun, a female attendant hurried over and handed him a poem composed by the Fan family's young lady.
"Excellent!"
Upon reading the poem, the heir's eyes sparkled, and he couldn't help but exclaim in admiration.
"Your Highness, what do you think of this poem? The Fan young lady is a renowned talent in the capital."
The delicate calligraphy on the paper read:
*"In August, the lake brims level, merging sky and water clear.
Mists rise from Cloud-Dream Marsh, waves shake Tanzhou's frontier.
To cross, no boat I find; in idleness, I shame this age divine.
Watching anglers with envy, I sigh—no catch is mine."*
"Truly a fine poem!" Xiao Feng nodded with a smile, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Though its style doesn't seem like a woman's work."
Since Xiao Feng hadn't lowered his voice, his words soon reached Fan Ruoruo across the lake.
"Your Highness is astute. This poem was indeed not composed by me. It was written by my elder brother at the age of ten. I merely transcribed it today for everyone's appreciation."
At Fan Ruoruo's explanation, the crowd's expressions shifted slightly, and all eyes turned to Fan Xian.
Could it be that Fan Xian had composed such a poem at just ten years old? Was he truly a genius?
Xiao Feng, however, didn't rush to expose Fan Xian's facade. Instead, he smiled faintly, silently watching him bask in the limelight.
*The higher one climbs, the harder they fall—wasn't that the truth?*
Guo Baokun was the first to snap out of his daze. With a sneer, he said, "Does Brother Fan have any other masterpieces? After all, this is something you wrote at ten. Surely you've composed more since then?"
His implication was clear: Fan Xian hadn't written this poem.
Fan Xian sighed inwardly. *Why do people keep lining up to be humiliated?*
Under the expectant and skeptical gazes of the crowd, Fan Xian quickly transcribed another poem, tossed it down, and then had a servant lead him to the restroom.
"Magnificent!"
"This is true brilliance!"
"Young Master Fan is a prodigy…"
When the crowd read the poem Fan Xian had left behind, a chorus of praise erupted.
The Jingjun Prince's heir couldn't resist reciting it aloud:
*"The wind so swift, the sky so wide, apes wail and cry;
Water so clear and beach so white, birds wheel and fly.
The boundless forest sheds its leaves shower by shower;
The endless river rolls its waves hour after hour.
A thousand miles from home, I'm grieved at autumn's plight;
Ill now and then for years, alone I'm on this height.
Living in times so hard, at frosted hair I pine;
Cast down by poverty, I have to give up wine."*
Soon, Fan Xian's poem reached the women's pavilion, eliciting another wave of gasps and admiration.
Listening to the exclamations around her, Fan Ruoruo's face glowed with pride.
She idolized Fan Xian above all others. She knew her elder brother might seem carefree on the surface, but in truth, he was a literary genius of unparalleled talent.
"Hahaha…"
Just as the crowd marveled at Fan Xian's poetic brilliance, a hearty laugh suddenly rang out, drawing all eyes toward its source.
The laughter came from the white-robed scholar standing to Xiao Feng's left.
The scholar stood eight feet tall, with silver streaks at his temples and a long beard cascading down his chest. His high cheekbones, jade-like complexion, autumn-clear eyes, and a faintly sinister air between his brows made him a striking figure.
Xiao Feng feigned curiosity. "Wenhe, why do you laugh?"
This white-robed scholar was another of Xiao Feng's crafted robots. Though not as brawny as Dian Wei and the others, his combat prowess rivaled that of a top-tier ninth-grade martial artist.
Xiao Feng had named him Jia Xu, styled "Wenhe"—the infamous strategist of the Three Kingdoms era.
As for the other white-robed scholar—eight feet tall, with skin like congealed cream, star-bright eyes, and a feathered fan—Xiao Feng had named him Zhuge Liang, styled "Kongming."
Since today's gathering was a literary affair, bringing Dian Wei and the others would have been inappropriate. Thus, Xiao Feng had specially brought Zhuge Liang and Jia Xu along.
(End of Chapter)