Chapter 267: Think We’re Blind?

Chapter 267: Are We Blind?

On the day of the banquet, Cheng Ge deliberately chose a simple moon-white robe with cloud patterns, loosely tied at the waist with a matching sash.

His jet-black hair was held in place with just a jade hairpin, a few stray strands falling by his temples, giving him the look of a refined scholar.

When the carriage arrived at the mountain villa, servants were already bowing in welcome. Once inside, Cheng Ge couldn't help but silently admire the place.

It was truly a hidden paradise, built into the mountainside, with pavilions and terraces scattered artfully around.

A winding stream ran through the garden, steam rising from it, carrying the distinct smell of sulfur—it was a natural hot spring piped in from the mountain.

The water flowed gently, warm and misty, making for a cozy winter atmosphere.

By the stream, brocade cushions and straw mats were laid out, with low tables already set with seasonal fruits and fine tea snacks.

He was led to a seat with a great view, where a white-glazed vase held a few branches of red plum blossoms.

Casually, he pulled out the prettiest bloom, his slender fingers twirling the plum branch as he toyed with it idly.

By then, most of the assembled scholars and officials had arrived, chatting and laughing in little groups.

Seeing Cheng Ge arrive, Zhao Yuanliang, as the host, immediately stood up to lead the greeting.

The others followed suit, bowing with hands clasped and saying in unison, “We pay our respects, Lord Censor.”

Only then did Cheng Ge seem to snap out of his daze over the plum blossoms, lifting his tired eyes.

He grinned, raising a hand casually, and said gently, “Please rise, everyone. Today, I'm the guest, and you're the hosts.

Since this is a refined gathering, too many formalities would just create distance.

Let's treat it as a friendly get-together and relax.” His tone was relaxed, like a spring breeze, instantly closing the distance.

The others took their seats, but their gazes kept drifting to the Lord Censor, who was twirling a plum branch with an ethereal elegance.

Despite his haggard, sickly look, his noble bearing and the lazy way he toyed with the flower drew more attention than the garden itself.

Some of the younger officials even stared, dazed, thinking that if it weren't for his position, the Lord Censor could truly be called “stunningly beautiful.”

After a few pleasantries, Zhao Yuanliang, sensing the moment was right, cleared his throat and said with a hearty laugh:

“Gentlemen, today we're following the ancients with a winding stream and floating cups, gathering as poets—what a delight.

Since we have wine and scenery, we can't do without poetry. Let's first set a theme.

Later, when the wine cup stops in front of someone, they'll compose a poem on that theme to liven things up. What do you all think?”

“Lord Zhao is absolutely right!”

“Exactly!” Everyone agreed.

But picking a theme wasn't easy.

It couldn't be too obscure, or it'd fall flat, yet it had to match the current setting to keep the gathering elegant.

Just then, an official with a light dusting of face powder, his eyes locked on the red plum branch in Cheng Ge's hand, said with a smile:

“Colleagues, I observe that the red plum in Lord Censor's hand blooms in the warmth of the hot spring, proud and aloof, pure and refined—much like Lord Censor's own character.

In my humble opinion, why not make the plum today's theme? We can praise its frost-defying grace or its subtle fragrance and shadowy charm—perfect for the occasion! What do Lord Censor and everyone else think?”

His words flattered Cheng Ge while cleverly passing the decision back, leaving no room for criticism.

The others naturally agreed without a second thought.

“Using the plum to symbolize the man—perfectly fitting!”

“It's plum season, so it suits the scene and the theme—excellent!”

Zhao Yuanliang nodded with a smile, turning to Cheng Ge: “Censor Cheng, does the plum theme meet your approval?”

Cheng Ge continued to twirl the plum branch, the flower trembling slightly, brushing against the tip of his nose.

Hearing Zhao Yuanliang's words, he didn't lift his gaze, only curving his lips into a faint smile.

“The plum's nobility is something I aspire to. This theme is fine.”

He neither declined nor showed enthusiasm, his attitude ambiguous and inscrutable.

“Then let it be the plum!” Zhao Yuanliang declared, signaling a beautiful maidservant standing by.

The maid bowed gracefully, holding an exquisite double-eared wine cup, and stepped to the upper reaches of the stream.

Carefully, she placed the cup, filled with amber-colored wine, into the water.

The warm spring water carried the cup gently along the winding channel, drifting slowly downstream.

For a moment, the chatter and laughter faded, and all eyes followed the small cup's movement.

Though it was just a game, no one wanted to appear clumsy before their superior; all wished to shine.

Cheng Ge, however, seemed the most relaxed. Propping his chin on one hand, he continued to twirl the plum branch lazily with the other, his gaze seemingly on the cup yet elsewhere. Occasionally, he'd pick a chilled plum from the plate before him and pop it into his mouth, looking thoroughly at ease.

The cup spun in the water, first wobbling to a stop before a Judge surnamed Wang.

Judge Wang laughed heartily, rose, stroked his beard, and after a brief pause, recited: “Sparse shadows slant across clear water shallow, faint fragrance drifts in moonlit dusk. Lucky the warm spring spares the frost, sparing the spirit from ice and snow.”

His poem borrowed famous lines for the first couplet, then highlighted the hot spring's uniqueness in the second—safe and clever, avoiding mistakes.

As he finished, the room erupted in praise.

“Excellent poem, Lord Wang! Seamless borrowing, apt point!”

“Especially the last couplet—it captures our very scene—brilliant!”

Zhao Yuanliang also nodded in approval: “Judge Wang's poem is elegant and fitting—truly superior!”

Cheng Ge joined in with a few claps, offering mindless compliments.

The next round began, and the maid released another cup.

This time, the cup drifted past several people without stopping, heading straight toward Cheng Ge.

It slowed, seemingly about to halt in a small eddy before him.

Cheng Ge's heart tightened. “!!!”

Recite poetry? Hilarious... Besides eating, what the hell does he know about poetry!

Cheng Ge's eyes darted around, glancing at the officials, and the elbow propping his chin moved almost imperceptibly.

Then, he casually adjusted his sitting posture, shifting a bit closer to the stream.

At the same time, the fingers twirling the plum branch subtly adjusted their grip.

The longer tip of the red plum branch drooped naturally, gently touching the stream water.

The red plum dipping into the water was like a dab of vermilion on the lips...

The branch seemed to brush the water surface a few times, sending small ripples across the water.

The wine cup, about to stop, was gently pushed by this faint ripple.

It swayed and drifted past him, smoothly bypassing Cheng Ge, and came to a steady stop in front of the next official.

Cheng Ge heaved a quiet sigh of relief, but his face still wore an indifferent look, and he even yawned lazily.

That was close... Cheng Ge, oh Cheng Ge, you're a genius, he shamelessly praised himself in his heart.

Everyone: "???" Does Lord Censor think we're blind?