Finest Servant

Chapter 258 A Cup of Wine Bolsters Courage

Upon entering, Lin Wanrong found that the place was right next to the Qinhuai River, with a pavilion several miles long built along the river, divided into several sections.

As Lin Wanrong entered, a page boy led him to the center of the pavilion, presenting him with a cup of tea and some pastries before respectfully taking his leave. The hospitality was quite commendable, Lin Wanrong thought to himself as he picked up a pastry to nibble on.

The pavilion, constructed entirely of bamboo, was built along the river. The surface of the Qinhuai River shimmered in the sunlight, with small boats zipping back and forth, presenting a truly captivating scene. Sitting in the pavilion, with the reflective water surface and gentle breeze, was quite serene.

There were already forty to fifty scholars gathered in the pavilion, each one looking vibrant and full of confidence. Lin Wanrong took a chance to ask a somewhat modest scholar sitting nearby: "Brother, how does this poetry competition work?"

"You don't know the rules of the poetry competition?" The scholar looked at him curiously, saying, "That is indeed interesting."

"I'm afraid my literary talent is lacking," Lin Wanrong hurriedly replied, "I came here more for the experience, not so much concerned with the rules. But I'd appreciate it if you could enlighten me. Oh, and my name is San Lin, may I ask your name, brother?"

"Yan Shenghui," the scholar replied, nodding, "so you are Brother San. The rules are rather simple. In the pavilion, we are divided into groups of ten, and we randomly draw a poem topic. Within the time it takes to finish a cup of tea, each person composes a poem on the same topic. The top two of each group advance automatically. After the poems are written, those who feel they are not up to par may withdraw. If there is a dispute, three renowned judges will decide. For fairness, these three judges vote individually, and a contestant can advance only if all three agree. The ones who advance get to board a decorated boat and enter the Qinhuai River. That is where the true gathering of talent takes place."

‘So it's a preliminary selection and then judging,’ Lin Wanrong thought. This was equivalent to selecting the top contenders from each region, and then proceeding to the final competition. It was a classic talent show style, indeed straightforward and practical. Ten people working on the same topic, the competition seemed fair, leaving no room for cheating.

"For those who do not advance," Yan Shenghui added, "they have one more chance to re-enter a group of ten and compete again. But if they are eliminated a second time, they must leave."

This was the revival round. Lin Wanrong chuckled inwardly. This was a clever trick indeed. "That seems fair," he said. "Oh, and Brother Yan, have you competed yet?"

Yan Shenghui gave a wry smile, "I have to admit to Brother San that I did not perform well in the previous round. I ranked third in a group of ten, losing my opportunity to advance. Now, I'm waiting for my last chance."

Third among ten? That was indeed a disheartening ranking. Lin Wanrong shook his head sympathetically, "Brother Yan, don't be so despondent. I believe you'll advance in the next round."

After chatting for a while with Yan Shenghui, Lin Wanrong realised that he wasn't too clear about the procedures after the advancement. However, this first round seemed the most critical.

Lin Wanrong chuckled inwardly, appreciating the well-organized poetry competition. This young woman, Luo Ning, indeed had a knack for promotion.

Just as Lin Wanrong had suspected, every item in the pavilion, even the tables and benches, was branded with the mark "Food for Immortals". The eliminated scholars each received a commemorative item sponsored by "Food for Immortals" - a paper umbrella.

Based on his own abilities, Lin Wanrong estimated that he'd likely be eliminated in the initial auditions, but he was rather unconcerned. Luo Ning had merely asked him to participate, without specifying that he needed to progress in the competition. As long as he gave it his all, it was enough. He sat there leisurely drinking several cups of tea, even taking a nap. Watching as the other contestants either advanced or were eliminated, he finally saw a break in the action, and joined Yan Shenghui to make up a team of ten.

One person from their group was delegated to draw the test topic for their round. The man tasked with this was so nervous he was practically drenched in sweat, his walk unsteady. Lin Wanrong watched with a shake of his head, wondering how someone with such poor nerves could participate in such a competition.

A thought occurred to him, and he patted Yan Shenghui on the shoulder. "Brother Yan, I've heard that Hou Yuebai, the top scholar of Jinling, is also participating in the competition. Is this true?"

Yan Shenghui nodded, "Indeed, it's true. Master Hou is quite smitten with Miss Luo, he wouldn't miss this opportunity. He is also a strong contender to win the poetry competition. But he's not in our district. With his abilities, advancing shouldn't be a problem."

Lin Wanrong had heard that this Hou Yuebai was a studious recluse, and wondered what he had learned to feel confident enough to vie for the championship. However, Yan Shenghui shook his head. "I don't think Master Hou will win."

"Oh? Why is that?" Lin Wanrong asked, curious.

"Because of Miss Luo's matchmaking, this poetry competition is attracting talented individuals from all over. Although Hou Yuebai is recognized as the top scholar of Jinling, there are countless other talented individuals, not just from the provinces of Anhui and Zhejiang, but also many from the capital. It's not certain he will succeed. Moreover, I've heard that Prince Cheng's son, Zhao Kangning, is fond of Miss Luo and is also participating in this competition. With his participation, Master Hou's chances of winning are even slimmer," Yan Shenghui said.

‘So Zhao Kangning is also here, well that's going to make things exciting,’ Lin Wanrong chuckled. ‘He has to address me as a teacher.’ However, he couldn't help but wonder what exactly Old Luo was planning with all of this? Gathering all this attention here, what was his endgame? His eyes scanned the area and suddenly his face paled, ‘Oh no, Old Luo is making his move.’

This thought filled him with both excitement and worry. Was Old Luo playing a joke on everyone, using his daughter as bait to draw everyone's attention, all the while planning something in secret? That was a bold move.

As the man drew the topic for the round, Yan Shenghui turned to Lin Wanrong, his voice tinged with nervousness. "Brother San, this is my last chance. I don't know if I can make it."

Lin Wanrong patted his shoulder, "Relax, Brother Yan. What's meant to be yours will be yours. Nobody can take that away from you. If it's not meant for you, you can't force it to be."

As they spoke, the man who had drawn the topic revealed the slip of paper, his trembling voice reading, "Compose a seven-character quatrain on the theme of...of...of spring and summer!"

Lin Wanrong shook his head internally, ‘Can't you read it fluently?’ Writing a seven-character quatrain on the theme of spring and summer was a challenging task for him, but it wasn't unattainable as he had feared.

As soon as the topic was announced, the ten scholars got to work. While the old saying of composing a poem within seven steps was a bit exaggerated, creating a poem within the time it takes to finish a cup of tea was not an easy task.

"I've got it, I've got it!" Yan Shenghui was the first to exclaim loudly. The other scholars were startled by his outburst, those with weaker mental fortitude breaking out in a cold sweat.

"What's all the commotion?" A woman's voice drifted over. It sounded familiar to Lin Wanrong. As he lifted his gaze, he saw an old woman seated on the judging panel, her face full of anger, glaring in their direction. Oh dear, how was it her? Lin Wanrong nearly jumped to his feet.

"Oh, isn't this the renowned scholar Mei? How come you haven't returned to the capital yet? How have you been lately? Have you been plowing the fields again?" Lin Wanrong's mind raced, even as he put on a seemingly pleasant face. This was truly a terrible day. Not only was he being slaughtered, but he had also encountered this insane woman on the judging panel. Oh, Miss Luo, don't blame me for this.

Mei Yanqiu, who was judging at this station, was already quite weary and had yet to notice Lin San beforehand. Seeing him suddenly pop up before her eyes, she was startled and stood up abruptly. "You... you... what are you doing?" she stammered.

"What am I doing?" Lin Wanrong smiled. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here to participate in the poetry competition. Since you're a judge, you should be kind to me."

When she heard he was participating in the competition, Mei Yanqiu regained some of her confidence. "That will depend on your abilities," she said haughtily.

"Don't you already know about my skills, Teacher Mei?" Lin Wanrong squinted, slowly extending one finger and laughing. "This skill of mine is known as 'One Yang Finger,' a secret family technique. You witnessed it that day, didn't you?"

Mei Yanqiu's face turned pale, and she sat back down on her chair, too scared to say a word. Yan Shenghui, in awe, grasped Lin Wanrong's arm. "Brother San, you actually know renowned scholar Mei?"

"I do, somewhat. She has a very strong impression of me." Lin Wanrong laughed, casting a teasing glance at Mei Yanqiu.

"Time's up!" another judge shouted. The remaining scholars were sweating profusely. This group, all eliminated in the first round and hoping for a second chance, were already under tremendous psychological pressure. Hearing the announcement, some were pale and unsteady. Lin Wanrong, by choosing to join this group, had deliberately taken advantage of the situation.

"Since you've completed your poem, let's hear it," a judge said to Yan Shenghui.

"Yes. The theme is spring and summer. My poem is: 'Melons float on cool water to beat the summer heat, lotus layered on a tray of ice to ward off the chill. Near the steps, crooked stones with dense bamboo shoots, in the small pond, lotus leaves emerge.' " Yan Shenghui, beads of sweat dotting his forehead, recited hurriedly.

"Good poem, good poem!" Even before the judge had time to speak, Lin Wanrong began clapping and laughing.

Yan Shenghui shot a grateful look at Brother San, whom he had just met. He was self-aware enough to realize that his seven-character quatrain was just passable: coherent in wording, balanced in rhyming, barely qualifying as a mediocre work, and far from being a great poem.

The judges nodded to each other, discussed for a while, and simultaneously held up signs saying, "Satisfactory. Advance to the next round!"

Overwhelmed with excitement, Yan Shenghui screamed, throwing his arms around Lin Wanrong. "Brother San, I made it. I made it to the next round."

Lin Wanrong chuckled, "Congratulations, Brother Yan."

The judges glanced around and called out again, "Who else has completed their poem? Please, step forward quickly."

The remaining candidates wore troubled expressions, none daring to speak. The judges shook their heads in disappointment, "If there's no one else, we will—"

"Damn, these guys," Lin Wanrong thought to himself, "They must have spent all their time chasing after women, even I am better." He chuckled and said, "Wait, wait, if no one else has a poem, I, despite being unremarkable, have one to share. Please, esteemed judges, correct me if needed. 'The chilled, green pool of ice bites the teeth, teeth soaked in fresh spring dew in the cold day. Fragrance drifts in the quiet wind, clear as silk, listening to cicadas through the paper window.'"

"Great poem, great poem!" Yan Shenghui echoed in enthusiasm, shouting aloud.

Lin Wanrong gave a small smile and raised a finger to Mei Yanqiu, "Renowned scholar Mei, this gesture is known as 'One Yang Finger,' a secret family technique, it's quite powerful—"

The color drained from Mei Yanqiu's face as she trembled, raising the card in her hand…

—---

Meanwhile, on a large flower boat in the Qinhuai River, Luo Ning leaned on the railing, gazing at the scholarly men bustling on the neighboring boats. She sighed softly, "Standing alone by the railing, autumn river's misty rain seems cold. The wind suddenly rises, yet the person is not back!"

She coughed lightly, hurriedly covering her small mouth with her hand. Her face turned a shade of red. Dong Qiaoqiao, who had just come out from the cabin, gently patted her on the back, "Sister Ning, why have you come out again? You have been working too hard these days, the doctor told you to rest."

It wasn't overwork, Luo Ning thought with a bitter smile. She grabbed Qiaoqiao's hand and asked, "Qiaoqiao, Brother Lin promised to come back today. Do you think he will lie to me?"

Qiaoqiao gently patted her hand, "Sister Ning, don't worry. If Brother Lin promised to come back, he will definitely return. Brother Lin never breaks his promises."

After coughing lightly, Luo Ning looked at Qiaoqiao, her face filled with envy, "Brother Lin is your husband, of course, you would be protective of him."

Qiaoqiao giggled, "Sister Ning, what do you want Brother Lin to hurry back for? He likes to wander around. Even if he's back now, he's probably sitting in a pavilion somewhere having tea with others, treating this poetry competition as entertainment. Sister Ning, among the scholars now, many are handsome and talented. Which one do you like? We could let Governor Luo speak to them for you."

Luo Ning's face turned a deep blush. She softly said, "Dear sister, can we be sisters for a lifetime?"

"Of course, we can," Qiaoqiao replied with a sweet smile. "But first, you need to take your medicine and rest properly. Otherwise, when it's your turn to perform, the scholars will see a pitifully sick beauty instead."

Luo Ning stared at the calm river and sighed softly, "If he does not return today, I will have no desire to live!" Qiaoqiao froze, exclaiming, "Sister—." She saw Luo Ning's eyes filled with tears, staring blankly into the distance. Her frail figure looked so desolate in the wind, it filled one's heart with pity…

—---

"There's no need to raise it..." Lin Wanrong suddenly waved and shouted.

"Why?" A judge called out loudly.

"Isn't this simple?" Lin Wanrong laughed. "According to the rules, the top two from each group will automatically advance. Among the ten of us, only Brother Yan and I have created a poem, so doesn't that mean we have advanced automatically? Esteemed judges, perhaps it would be best not to raise the cards. I fear it might damage the confidence I have barely managed to establish."

The two judges nodded, their faces breaking into smiles. "You're certainly modest. Even if you have advanced, we still need to raise the cards—"

Simultaneously, they flipped their cards: "Advanced—" "Advanced—"

Left with no other choice, Mei Yanqiu gritted her teeth and raised her card: "Advanced—"

Upon seeing all three judges unanimously raise their cards, Yan Shenghui exclaimed excitedly, "Advanced, Brother San, you've also advanced."

Lin Wanrong chuckled. "Brother Yan, don't get too excited. This was expected." Yan Shenghui thought for a moment and had to admit, Brother Lin was right. The judging was essentially meaningless. He bowed and said, "Brother San, your calmness and wisdom surpass us all. I admire you greatly."

Seeing how easily Lin Wanrong and Yan Shenghui had advanced, the others regretted their hesitation. If they had known this earlier, they wouldn't have worried about producing mediocre poetry and losing face. They would've spoken up without hesitation, but now it was too late.

The first round was over. Lin Wanrong and Yan Shenghui walked arm in arm onto the showboat, sailing straight towards the Qinhuai River. The scholars who passed the first round split into two flower boats, each carrying fifty to sixty people— the elite chosen from the masses.

The flower boat they were on paled in comparison to the one Xian'er had stayed on the previous night, but it was still extraordinarily luxurious. There were pens, inks, papers, inkstones, chess, and paintings— everything one could need. A few famous performers sat in the middle of the stage, plucking the strings of the qin and singing softly. The scholars below the stage clapped in rhythm, sang along, and cheered loudly. It indeed felt like a gathering of scholars.

"Gentlemen—" A man who looked like a steward stood up. "Today's poetry competition is all about the joy of drinking and composing poems. The fact that we can gather here today is a great fate. Please, let us all drink a toast to thank the destiny that brought us together."

"Cheers—" The scholars downed their drinks in unison, adding to the jovial atmosphere.

The steward continued, "Since you all have passed the first round, you are all undoubtedly learned men. The second round is fairly simple. We, more than fifty people, will be divided into five groups. Each group will take turns giving a drinking command. This command must match one word to the previous command. Those who fail to match will kindly move aside to enjoy their drink while the others continue. The last one standing will be the victor."

Lin Wanrong vaguely understood the rules and thought it was interesting. This method seemed fun. Ten people were giving drinking commands, from one command to multiple commands. It was less about talent and more about wit and drinking capacity.

He picked up a teacup and found a spot near the railing to sit, looking out over the river. He noticed two other painting boats floating nearby but couldn't identify which one Luo Ning was on. While he was idle, he saw a small boat rowing towards them in the distance. On the boat were two men, one a tall, dark figure, and the other a middle-aged man with a clean-shaven face. They stood close together, whispering about something.

"Oh damn, am I seeing things?" He rubbed his eyes vigorously and let out a gasp of surprise. He tossed away his teacup and called out loudly, "Brother Du, Brother Hu—"

The ship was quite far away at first. They couldn't hear his call, but as they got closer, they heard his voice. The two men on the ship looked over and were taken aback upon seeing Lin Wanrong's silhouette. They were overjoyed instantly. Hu Bugui, a towering figure, with tears streaming down his cheeks, shouted, "General Lin. General Lin, you're alive, damn it, you're alive!"

Lin Wanrong burst into laughter, wiping his nose, and leapt towards the edge of the ship, about to jump into the river. Yan Shenghui quickly grabbed him and asked, "Brother San, what are you doing?"

Lin Wanrong replied, "A few of my brothers are over there, and I want to go see them. Damn, I missed them."

Yan Shenghui said, "Since your brothers are within sight, why worry about this short amount of time? It's winter now. If you swam over there, you would catch a chill, and that wouldn't be worth it. Wait until this poetry contest is over, then you can have a good drink with them. Wouldn't that be beautiful?"

True enough, why was he in such a rush? Lin Wanrong grinned sheepishly, waving wildly at the two men. Hu Bugui and Du Xiuyuan understood his gesture and quickly stopped the small boat that they were rowing. They waved vigorously at him, hopping excitedly on the boat. Their joy was indescribable.

Basking in the warm sentiment, Lin Wanrong was just in time for the drinking game. He eagerly joined a group of ten unfamiliar faces. Unfazed, he raised his cup and drank two rounds, still basking in his joy.

The others were stunned, looking at this madman who'd appeared out of nowhere and chugged two cups without a word. They all secretly stuck out their tongues.

No one knew each other, anyway. It was all about outdrinking and outsmarting each other, and Lin Wanrong had never been afraid of a challenge. He was slightly red-eyed, his excitement couldn't be concealed.

"Drink up!" the first person proclaimed, draining his cup.

"Drink up!" echoed the second person, also draining his cup.

"To the wind and flowers!" the third person declared.

"Drink freely!" the fourth person said.

When it was Lin Wanrong's turn, he had already downed two more cups. Someone ahead had proposed "Deep affection under the moon", and he laughed heartily, declaring loudly, "Endless love in a dream. You drink, and I drink too—"

All ten people finished the first round without any dropouts. Lin Wanrong drank freely, not caring who was next, draining each cup as it came.

The second round required six-word phrases.

"Drunkenness easily reveals beauty—"

"Don't speak of sorrow in the scent of wine—"

The longer the sentences, the harder it was. Before this round was over, four people were already out. When it was Lin Wanrong's turn, a scholar before him recited, "Breathtaking beauty, exquisite wine, at a beauty's lips."

Lin Wanrong laughed heartily and responded, "Bronze skin, iron bones, a heroic horse, in front of the general's formation." He tilted his head back and gulped down the strong liquor as if it was water, not even changing color. Seeing his bravado, a few scholars were impressed. He was no weak scholar, but a man of genuine mettle.

By the end of the third round, there was no one left to compete with him. Lin Wanrong's eyes were slightly red, his body swaying, yet he remained standing. He sang out, "Brothers are born of the same flesh, their heroic spirit fills the universe. Who dares to laugh at my battlefield drunkenness? In armor, we harbor grand ambitions. Here's a toast to the heroic with a cup of wine. Please, gentlemen, let us drink three hundred more cups!"

Who could follow up on that? Everyone else had already conceded defeat, their faces filled with admiration and respect for Lin Wanrong. Seeing that no one else could continue, Lin Wanrong felt a tinge of disappointment. He picked up two cups from the table and, bending his elbows to the left and right, drained both in one go. Yet, he seemed not quite satisfied. He smashed the cups on the ground and, lifting the bottle, took a hearty swig. With a few gulping sounds, the clear liquor dripped from the corners of his mouth.

Everyone around was stupefied. These were all learned scholars, well-versed in poetry and literature. They had never encountered such a wild and unrestrained character. Whether it was his drinking or his poetry, both were flamboyant and free-spirited, with a hint of an invigorating murderous aura that left everyone awestruck.

Over there, Yan Shenghui had already stepped down, showing signs of drunkenness. Seeing Lin Wanrong in this state, he suddenly shouted, "Brother San, well done! Life should be lived as you do, half awake, half drunk, carefree, and expressive. Bring on the wine—"

With one hand on the bottle, he tried to mimic Lin Wanrong's actions, gulping a few times. However, before he could take more than a few sips, he suddenly collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

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