READ NOVEL ONLINE Chapter 19: Impromptu Poetry
Chapter 19: Impromptu Poetry
As it turned out, Wei Changtian had indeed overthought things.
The faint scent of white peony filled his nostrils as he glanced at Lan Jingyao, who was intently focused. He could only pick up the brush and start scribbling again.
平平平仄仄
仄仄仄平平
仄仄平平仄
平平仄仄平
This was Lan Jingyao’s unique method, combining calligraphy practice with the tonal patterns of poetry, making the process more efficient.
In his previous life, this was called “integrated teaching method.”
Unfortunately, in the feudal society, women couldn’t become teachers, so such an advanced teaching method could never be widely adopted.
Wei Changtian’s thoughts drifted back to his past life, and naturally, his handwriting became increasingly sloppy.
Lan Jingyao watched for a while before she couldn’t help but softly remind him, “You need to be more serious.”
Upon hearing this, Wei Changtian not only didn’t feel guilty but put down the brush altogether. “I think that’s enough for today.”
“But it hasn’t even been an hour.”
“That’s already plenty.”
“…”
Lan Jingyao was speechless for a moment, then silently stood up to tidy the brushes and ink.
The brush swayed gently in the twin-fish-shaped brush washer, and black ink spread out in the clear water.
She pinched the base of the brush hairs and softly said, “You’re actually very talented. If you were to study for a few years, you’d surely achieve great things.”
Wei Changtian was taken aback for a moment, then laughed and asked, “What? Are you trying to persuade me to turn over a new leaf?”
Lan Jingyao stared at him, “Would that be so bad?”
“Hahahaha!”
Wei Changtian laughed heartily and teased, “If I wanted to be an official, I could do it right now. Why would I bother competing with scholars?”
“Besides, I couldn’t care less about the state of the country or the welfare of the people. What does that have to do with me?”
“That’s not true.”
Lan Jingyao shook her head, her gaze firm. “I aimed my heart towards the bright moon, but the bright moon shines on the ditch… If you can write such poetry; you are certainly not a selfish person.”
“…”
Wei Changtian didn’t expect this woman to make such connections and was momentarily speechless, laughing awkwardly. “What does one poem prove? I can make up poems of this level anytime.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Lan Jingyao thought Wei Changtian was trying to talk his way out after she had guessed his thoughts, so she deliberately provoked him. “Unless you can make up another poem right now. If you do, I’ll believe you.”
“What use is your belief to me?”
Wei Changtian glanced at her. “Besides, composing poems needs inspiration. You can’t just make them up.”
Lan Jingyao, seeing Wei Changtian’s reluctance, felt even more triumphant. “There are so many things here. Just pick one as inspiration.”
“Heh.”
Wei Changtian sneered, not wanting to entertain Lan Jingyao at first.
But when he saw Qiu Yun and Yuan’er playing with Wei Qiaoling in the courtyard outside the window, he changed his mind.
“Qiu Yun! Yuan’er!”
“Ah! Young Master!”
The two women hurried over, standing outside the window and asking, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
Without glancing at Lan Jingyao, Wei Changtian said directly, “I want to compose a poem for you.”
“Huh? Compose a poem?”
The two women were stunned, their faces full of confusion.
When did the Young Master start composing poetry?
Did the Lady teach him just now?
Though puzzled, they obediently nodded, their eyes showing a hint of expectation.
“Young Master, we’re listening.”
“Hmm…”
Wei Changtian pretended to ponder for a moment before slowly reciting a short poem.
His voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for Lan Jingyao to hear clearly.
“The misty valley wind cuts with delicate precision, Qiu Yun escorts to the celestial realms.”
“The dust-laden fate severs at every moment, the blue sea and green sky indifferent to arrivals and departures.”
Inside and outside the window, there was silence.
Qiu Yun and Yuan’er, despite their limited literacy, could tell that the poem was about a paper kite.
And the poem included the words “Qiu Yun”…
People have a natural appreciation for beautiful things, including words… especially when those words involve themselves.
The two women instantly covered their mouths, their eyes brimming with emotion.
As for Lan Jingyao…
Words like surprised and shocked couldn’t begin to describe her feelings.
If she had to choose a phrase… perhaps “heart fluttering”? “Incredulous”?
She looked at the calm and composed Wei Changtian, unable to fathom what level of literary talent was needed to compose such a fitting and profound poem in just a few breaths.
“The dust-laden fate severs at every moment, the blue sea and green sky indifferent to arrivals and departures.”
Such lofty and grand sentiments, yet so delicate.
Lan Jingyao, unlike Qiu Yun and Yuan’er, understood the deeper meaning of the poem.
And precisely because she understood, she was even more puzzled.
“How could it be…”
“Not even the greatest scholar of the Great Peace Dynasty, no, not even the revered Poet Immortal Su Wu, could match this…”
…
During dinner, Lan Jingyao was so distracted that she dropped her chopsticks several times.
Qiu Yun and Yuan’er were a bit better but still couldn’t help sneaking glances at Wei Changtian.
Only Wei Qiaoling, channeling her “grief over the lost chicken” into appetite, devoured the stewed chicken with vigor.
After dinner, it was story time as usual.
Over the past few days, the story had progressed to Sun Wukong and Tang Sanzang meeting Zhu Bajie at Gao Village.
Although Wei Changtian couldn’t remember the entire text of *Journey to the West*, he had watched the TV series several times as a child, so he had no trouble recalling the plot.
Outside, the stars were sparse, and the moon was bright. Inside, the candlelight flickered.
The four women listened intently, their expressions shifting from tension to delight.
Even the big ghost lay docilely on the ground, its tail sweeping the floor from side to side, appearing very content…
At the beginning of Hai hour, the storytelling session ended.
(Hai Hour 9:00 pm to 11:00 pm)
Qiu Yun and Yuan’er went to escort Wei Qiaoling back to her courtyard, while Lan Jingyao hurried back to her room to write down what she had just heard.
Once the room quieted down, Wei Changtian sipped his tea and started pondering about Xu Qingwan and Yang Liushi.
Even if it was just for the system points, he absolutely had to win over these two women.
Wei Changtian first considered Xu Qingwan. Given ample time, he could take his time with her. However, Yang Liushi posed a greater challenge. As a fox demon, her vigilance was high, and with Xiao Feng nearing his encounter with her—likely within a few days after Mid-Autumn Festival—time was tight.
Wei Changtian didn’t know if Xiao Feng’s severe injury would alter the storyline, but he had to prepare for the worst. If he couldn’t win Yang Liushi over during the Mid-Autumn boating event, he needed to ensure she wouldn’t meet Xiao Feng. Worst case, he’d eliminate her as a threat to the people.
As he meticulously pondered these details, his tea had gone completely cold. Just when Wei Changtian had a rough plan and was about to retire for the night, a sudden knock on the door interrupted him.
“Young Master, are you still awake?”
Qiu Yun and Yuan’er entered quietly, their hands hidden behind their backs, looking a bit apprehensive.
“What’s the matter?” Wei Changtian asked, puzzled.
“Well… about the poem you composed at dusk… could you, um, write it down for us?” They shyly revealed paper, ink, and brush from behind their backs, looking quite prepared.
Seeing their nervous expressions, Wei Changtian chuckled, “Haha, of course. But my handwriting is terrible, hope you don’t mind.”
“We won’t, Young Master!” Yuan’er, being younger, spoke more freely than Qiu Yun, “We don’t know how to read anyway. We just don’t want to forget the poem, so we can take the paper to a storyteller to read it to us!”
“I see.” Wei Changtian glanced at the shy Qiu Yun and, without further ado, once the ink was ready, he carefully transcribed the four lines of the poem.
After finishing, he added a title at the top.
To Qiu Yun and Yuan’er
“The ink isn’t dry yet, so let it air for a bit,” Wei Changtian said, placing paperweights on both ends of the rice paper.
“Okay,” Qiu Yun and Yuan’er nodded gently, standing by and waiting.
However, soon their faces turned a deep shade of red.
“Ah! Young Master… mm…”
“…”
Soft, delicate sounds drifted through the room, reaching Lan Jingyao standing by the door. She had come over to clarify a detail from the evening’s story, but now…
She quickly returned to her room, leaning against the door and taking a few deep breaths. One hand clenched her skirt tightly while the other touched her slightly warm cheeks. For some reason, she felt an unexpected pang of disappointment.