Chapter 268: Good Poem

Chapter 268: A Fine Poem

And so, relying on that red plum branch and his masterful "water control" technique, Cheng Ge managed to get through several rounds, with a few close calls.

He secretly gloated, thinking himself a clever little genius.

However, though his "behind-the-scenes manipulation" was subtle, everyone present was sharp as a whip.

Once or twice might be coincidence, but after several times, though they didn't show it on their faces, everyone knew the score.

Zhao Yuanliang shot a glance at a servant nearby, a meaningful smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Before long, a delicate-featured maid approached, head lowered, carefully carrying a plate of uniquely shaped pastries. Her voice was soft as a whisper.

"Milord, these are plum blossom pastries specially made by the manor chef, using plum petals picked this morning. Would you care to try them?"

Cheng Ge, wholly focused on the stream, turned his head at the sound.

He saw the pastries: translucent, pink-tinged, shaped like blooming plum blossoms—utterly delicious-looking.

His eyes lit up instantly, his foodie instincts overrode his vigilance for the poetry gathering.

He casually set aside his "tool"—the plum branch—and eagerly grabbed a piece of the pastry, popping it into his mouth.

Crisp, sweet, and fragrant with a faint hint of plum—truly delightful! He naturally took a second piece.

Seeing this, the maid quietly set the plate on Cheng Ge's low table.

Then, with an extremely natural, fluid motion, she picked up the plum branch he had set aside, inserted it into a nearby white-glazed plum vase, and—carried the entire vase away! The whole sequence was seamless, as if she were merely tidying up the decorations.

By the time Cheng Ge leisurely finished his second piece and, satisfied, reached for his "magic tool," he found nothing.

He glanced left and right—the spot where the plum vase had been was now empty. Lifting his head, he caught only the sight of the maid's retreating back, vase in hand.

Cheng Ge: "…"

He subconsciously licked the pastry crumbs from his lips, his expression cracking for an instant, as if he were a soldier stripped of his armor.

But he couldn't let his censor's composure slip. He tried to straighten his slightly hunched frame, though his nervousness showed.

His gaze returned to the stream, but this time with palpable tension.

He locked onto the floating wine cup, silently praying: Don't come, please don't come…

Perhaps fate liked to toy with handsome guys like him, for the wine cup seemed to recognize him.

It meandered through the currents and finally, with a wobble, stopped squarely in front of him.

Cheng Ge's heart sank. Staring at the amber liquid in the cup, he felt it heavier than a thousand-pound stone.

"Excellent! It's the Lord Censor's turn!"

"We've been waiting for this!"

"I've long heard that Censor Cheng hails from the Hanlin Academy, with literary brilliance—today, we must let him enlighten us!"

"Yes, yes! Lord Censor, please proceed!"

The crowd immediately chimed in with laughter and cheers, their tone dripping with "sincere" anticipation, all eyes fixed on him.

Cheng Ge: "…"

If I said I'm a fake, and that I picked up my imperial degree on the road, would you believe me?

He felt like he was being roasted over a fire, between a rock and a hard place.

Looking at the "expectant" faces around him, he knew there was no escaping this time.

Ah, forget it. Whether I go down fighting or cower, it's the same fate!

Steeling himself, he took a deep breath, as if marching to the execution block, and stood up.

He raised the wine cup, looking deeply toward the distant plum grove—but in reality, he was frantically scrounging for the pitiful literary knowledge in his head.

He deliberated for a full half-incense stick's time, until someone below was about to prod him.

Then, with a sudden throw of his head, he drained the cup in one gulp, as if to bolster his courage.

After clearing his throat, in a sing-song tone mimicking scholarly elegance, he declaimed:

"Ah——!"

This resonant "Ah" stunned everyone for a moment.

"The sky is cold, the ground frozen, snowflakes fly!"

The audience nodded: Good, an opening that sets the season.

"My family's plum blossoms bloom so fair and high!"

A few officials' lips twitched—well… that's… acceptable, I suppose…

"No leaves at all, just blossoms in the cold!"

The crowd: "…"

"Tell me, is that strange or no?!"

After finishing, he even made a gesture of cupping his hands toward the audience, with a face that seemed to ask for their critique.

The entire manor fell into a dead silence, as if the very air had frozen.

Even the steam from the hot springs seemed to have stopped flowing.

Everyone looked as if they had been petrified, their smiles frozen, expressions blank, as if their brains were frantically processing this overly avant-garde poem.

Zhao Yuanliang's hand, holding his wine cup, hung in midair, his fingers frozen on his beard.

The young officials who had previously admired Cheng Ge's good looks now completely lost their composure, mouths agape like fish out of water.

Cheng Ge sneaked a peek at everyone's reactions, feeling nervous about his realistic masterpiece.

In the midst of this excruciatingly awkward moment, Zhao Yuanliang, as a veteran official, was the first to snap out of it.

A look of utter astonishment and admiration instantly lit up his face. He slammed the table in admiration and bellowed: "Excellent!!"

This thunderous cry jolted everyone awake.

"Good poem! A good poem indeed!" One of them immediately followed up, his expression as sincere as if he had just heard a timeless masterpiece.

Censor Cheng's poem goes back to basics and feels completely organic! It seems unadorned, but in truth it is seemingly clumsy yet masterful, revealing true wonder in plainness!

Especially this last line, 'Don't you think it's strange?' — it hits you right in the soul and makes you think!

"Yes, yes! Minister Wang speaks most truly!" Another official quickly chimed in, racking his brains to smooth things over.

"This poem is not bound by meter; it follows the heart freely, perfectly in line with the elegance of a celebrated scholar! This line, 'No leaves, only flowers bloom,' fully captures the unyielding spirit of the plum blossom! I humbly admire it, admire it greatly!"

"Indeed, indeed! Lord Censor is really... uh... overflowing with talent and unique in style!"

Everyone snapped out of it, and whether they understood or not, they all rushed to shower praise.

For a moment, flattery and sycophancy filled the air, as if Cheng Ge had just composed a timeless masterpiece.

Cheng Ge: "???" Is it really that wonderful?

Cheng Ge was totally overwhelmed by this tidal wave of praise. He blinked and looked at the officials before him.

Could I really be a poetic genius wasted on government office? My simple, soul-stirring style is actually that amazing?