After the servant retrieved the scroll, he first handed it to Manager Mo. Upon glancing at it, Mo's expression froze momentarily.
He then passed the scroll to a scholar standing closest to the literary platform. Over the span of about a cup of tea, the contents of the scroll were passed around among the crowd in the main hall on the first floor.
Of course, during this circulation, they deliberately skipped the table where Gu Ning'an and his companions sat. Eventually, Wang Liang held the scroll in his hands and approached Gu Ning'an's group, unfurling it before them.
"Take a good look. The content is identical, but the inscription at the end bears Young Master Sun's name, dated several months ago!"
"Li, if you still consider yourself a man of letters, admit your plagiarism openly. If you confess, I might still respect you as a man of courage!"
"Furthermore, you've witnessed Young Master Sun's character. Even now, he refrains from accusing you of plagiarism. If you confess, he certainly won't pursue the matter further."
Li Xunshan clenched his fists and said firmly, "I did not plagiarize. This poem is mine."
"Stubborn as a mule!" Wang Liang pointed at Li Xunshan, questioning, "Before you say such things, do you dare to remove that veil from your face?"
"Everyone else dares to show their true faces, yet you keep hiding behind that black veil. Are you guilty of something and afraid to show yourself?"
At these words, Wei Hai, known for his temper, could no longer hold back. Stepping forward, he pointed at Wang Liang's nose and said, "You're nothing but a sycophantic dog! What right do you have to demand he remove his veil?"
Before Wang Liang could respond, the old beggar slammed the table and spoke loudly, "Slandering someone for plagiarism without evidence in broad daylight already violates the laws of Great Qian!"
"Furthermore, wearing a veil is a personal freedom. If you force someone to remove it, that's a breach of Article 72, Volume 1 of the Great Qian Legal Code—a charge of public disturbance!"
"Causing a disturbance in a public area, if deemed severe, can result in twenty lashes and a fine of two taels of silver!"
Wei Hai and the old beggar's aggressive momentum left Wang Liang, who had been arrogant and domineering, momentarily flustered.
At a loss for words, Wang Liang stammered as he pointed at the old beggar and Wei Hai. Just then, Young Master Sun, who was upstairs, spoke again:
"Everyone, may I say a few words?"
"I brought out this scroll only to prove that I, too, have written this same poem. I never accused Mr. Li of plagiarizing my work."
"Could you all grant me a little face and let this farce end here?"
"No way!" Wei Hai shouted, pointing at Sun Xuan and scolding, "If this matter ends here, this poem will truly be considered yours!"
"You're the shameless plagiarist, and you're doing it right in front of everyone!"
"Absolutely disgusting!"
Three successive insults left Sun Xuan visibly flustered.
As a renowned scholar, he could not afford to stoop to a public quarrel with someone like Wei Hai, who clearly came across as a coarse street figure. Doing so would only tarnish his reputation.
However, if he didn't retaliate, it felt like a thorn lodged in his throat.
"This brother, please, refrain from using such vulgar language in a refined setting," Sun Xuan finally said.
Wei Hai sneered. "Refined? With a person like you, raised without proper upbringing, even the finest place smells like a latrine!"
The old beggar chimed in, "You know, that was actually quite an elegant turn of phrase!"
"Elegant! Truly elegant!" Wei Hai burst into hearty laughter, completely unrestrained.
Seeing their coordinated banter, Sun Xuan wished he could order someone to shut their mouths for good.
Yet, with a beauty by his side, he had to maintain his composure no matter what.
"Fine! Fine! Fine!" Sun Xuan snapped his folding fan shut with a smile. "Since you insist on taking this matter seriously, I, Sun, shall humor you today!"
"Mr. Li, regardless of whether this poem is plagiarized, can you tell me the title of this poem?"
"The essence of poetry lies in its title. When I first composed it, I did not put the title down on paper. Now, let us both state our respective titles and let everyone decide whose title better aligns with the poem's meaning. How about that?"
Upon hearing this, Gu Ning'an, seated beside Li Xunshan, said calmly, "Close your eyes and think carefully. Also, remember, this poem has a second stanza. Try envisioning that as well."
A second stanza for such a perfect quatrain?
Startled, Li Xunshan glanced at Gu Ning'an in disbelief before closing his eyes as instructed, focusing his thoughts.
To his surprise, as soon as he closed his eyes, memories began flooding his mind: every arduous journey of a thousand miles, every letter he had painstakingly written, spanning dozens of pages, and every moment of joy and sorrow with Ren Yue—from their joyous reunions to their tearful farewells.
Swish!
The mental scene shifted, and Li Xunshan suddenly found himself alone, rowing a small boat on the Xiangjiang River.
On the riverbank, Ren Yue stood with tear-filled eyes, gazing longingly in the direction of his departure.
Li Xunshan looked at the oar in his hands and the endless flow of the Xiangjiang River. Turning back toward the shore, he shouted at Ren Yue, "When will these waters cease to flow? When will this longing end?"
"May your heart be as mine, steadfast in its love and longing!"
Bang!
A loud noise shattered his reverie. Wang Liang had slammed the table and shouted, "Li! Young Master Sun has already written his title. Why are you still dawdling?"
"Or are you unable to even come up with a makeshift title?"
Snapping out of his thoughts, Li Xunshan glanced at Gu Ning'an and said solemnly, "Mr. Gu, I've thought of it."
"Good," Gu Ning'an nodded.
"I was speaking to you!" Ignored, Wang Liang fumed, roaring, "If you can't think of anything, get out of Flowing Pavilion!"
With a sneer, Li Xunshan dipped his fingers in tea and swiftly wrote on the table.
When he finished the final stroke, he said seriously, "I've written it."
"Let's see what nonsense you came up with." Wang Liang leaned in for a look, then burst into laughter. "I live at the head of Xiangjiang River? And this is supposed to be a title?"
"'I live at the head of Xiangjiang River'? That's not a title—it's just a sentence."
"It seems this Li scholar might truly be guilty of plagiarism…"
"He's done for now. Why couldn't he just leave it alone?"
The murmurs and laughter filled the pavilion, with almost everyone agreeing that such a title was unworthy of the poem.
"What's with all this gossiping? Are you all just some gossiping old women?" Wei Hai snapped at the crowd, then turned to Wang Liang with a sneer. "And your master's title? He's been saying he's got it ready for ages. Or is he waiting to hear Li's title first before changing his own?"
Prepared in advance, Wang Liang swiftly unfurled the scroll in his left hand with a loud rustle.
On the scroll, three bold characters appeared: [River's Longing].