My Wife Is A Sword Immortal
Chapter 577 - 369: 7 breaths form a poem, just for fun

Chapter 577: Chapter 369: 7 breaths form a poem, just for fun

Aside from someone who leisurely waited after finishing their ’seven breaths for a doggerel poem’.

Including Gu Yiwu, the other students were systematically composing poetry or writing lyrics.

When the three sticks of incense had burned out and the music from the zither stopped, they put down their brushes one after another.

At this time, two mystical phenomena successively appeared in the lobby on the ground floor.

All of a sudden, next to Zhao Rong, Gu Yiwu halted his steps, strode to the desk, and with a swift flick of his brush, added the last line of the poem that came as naturally as divine inspiration.

In an instant, a silvery moonlight that resembled the gleam of swords burst forth from the ink of the still-wet page.

At that corner table where Zhao Rong and the others sat, it was as if a full moon peeked out from the paper, quickly catching the attention of many guests in the hall.

Even the lovely maid on the stage and the stunning girl seated behind the guqin couldn’t help but glance over.

At the same time.

By a table near the central stage of the ground-floor hall.

The pale-faced, powdered young nobleman in pink, taking advantage of everyone’s noise, quickly covered the poorly written poem on the table with his wide sleeve, crumpled it into a ball, and stuffed it into his sleeve.

What he took out from his other sleeve was a neatly folded piece of flower screen paper, pristine and white.

The nobleman in pink smirked with smugness as he unfolded the flower screen paper.

A second later, another ’full moon’ arose from a nearby table on the floor.

But this full moon radiated a calm, gentle light, and with it the whisper of romantic sentiments like the wind, flowers, snow, and moon.

In the blink of an eye, the two full moons that appeared on the first floor divided all the guests’ attention between them.

"Quick, look at the moonlight!"

"Hiss, it’s Falling Flower Grade poetry! Falling Flower Grade poetry!"

"To compose Falling Flower Grade poetry on the spot, who are these godly figures, scholars from the two academies?"

The guests in the hall looked on in amazement, their voices a mix of admiration and exclamations.

But this was accompanied by sighs and expressions of regret.

Some guests sighed longingly, some even left their seats immediately, and most of those who stayed were filled with either envy or jealousy.

Though Confucian poetry was popular among the mountains, mountain cultivators who visited brothels also composed poems and lyrics, and most likely had some literary talent, but they were still no match for the scholars.

And even for scholars, creating Falling Flower Grade poetry was extremely difficult; anyone capable of that would have been quickly taken up by one of the academies and wouldn’t be found in the market town of Xingzi Town, which is neither small nor large.

Perhaps in the north, in Du You City or in the south, in Lihuo Country, there might be more, since they are closer to the two academies.

So now, what was thought to be a contest of equals, a match of bronze against bronze.

Turns out, amongst a group of bronze, two champions had suddenly emerged.

With Falling Flower Grade poems being composed here, how was anyone else supposed to compete?

There’s a world of difference between poems that reach the grade and those that do not, even at Zuixian Building such poems are seldom seen.

At this moment, Gu Yiwu, one of the foci of the hall, showed a flash of joy across his face, but soon returned to his usual composure and calmly put down his brush.

The students from Justice Hall who hadn’t produced Falling Flower Grade poetry shook their heads in mock pity and congratulated him.

"The dew is white at the edge of Bright Moon Pond, water and sky reflect each other, brimming with life... What a poem! Brother Gu is impressive, to have composed a poem of the Ascending grade within the time of three incense sticks."

"Brother Gu truly deserves to be the first among us in Justice Hall, even closely rivaling that so-called ’poetic’ Han Wenfu from the Cultivation Hall, haha, the Mid-Autumn Literary Meet is approaching, and I heard our academy is planning a grand celebration..."

"Exactly, Brother Zi Ming is right. That Han Wenfu always acts so conceited; it’s clear from his tastes. And he keeps bothering Yu Huaijin, too."

Gu Yiwu frowned and waved his hands, "Let’s not speak ill of others behind their backs, settle down. And by the way, I think Yu Huaijin is quite decent, not a bad choice for Han brother at all."

He then turned and said with a smile, "Right, Ziyu?"

Upon hearing a certain austere lady’s name, Zhao Rong chuckled but didn’t speak.

"Brother, you wouldn’t have the same idea as Han Wenfu, would you?" one student teased.

"Nonsense," Gu Yiwu laughed off the comment, shaking his head.

Turning his attention away from the others, he picked up the poem that shone with silvery brilliance like a sword, and let out a soft sigh.

"Alas, it’s only of the Ascending grade. Poetry about the bright moon has already been thoroughly explored by our predecessors, truly making it hard to compose something outstanding. It’s like climbing a mountain; nearly every path has already been trodden by those before us, leaving us newcomers with no new paths to take."

The burly man spoke with a tinge of regret.

Zhao Rong lightly flicked his own doggerel, chuckling silently.

"Brother Gu, you make it sound so disheartening; you’re the only one who produced Falling Flower Grade poetry here, even Scholar Zhao didn’t manage it, what more do you want? A poem of the Falling Flower Grade?"

The students half-jokingly protested in disbelief.

Zhao Rong also put on a stern face and joked, "Exactly, how can Brother Yiwu so dismiss us ordinary folks?"

Gu Yiwu bowed in modest respect, but being teased by his friends and classmates, he found it hard to suppress the smile on his face.

Especially since he had caught a glimpse of the girl in Luo Xiu who had been sitting quietly on the stage, glancing towards their table.

Gu Yiwu was all smiles.

A single poem of the Ascending grade produced during three sticks of incense at Linlu Academy was surely among the top echelon, of course, this was also Gu Yiwu’s extraordinary performance when his inspiration struck.

Nevertheless, he wondered why Brother Ziyu hadn’t produced a Falling Flower Grade poem, as Gu Yiwu always felt that Brother Ziyu knew poetry and verse quite well and was hiding his true ability.

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