Chapter 148: Director Liu Makes His Entrance

Liu Liwa’s sudden appearance immediately caught everyone’s attention. Trying to avoid the lecherous Du Shaofu, Miss Zhao subconsciously followed Liu Liwa’s steps. All eyes turned toward them: one dressed in rich, fine silk, as elegant as jade; the other a beautiful young lady, ethereal and peerless. It was exactly the image of the talented scholar and fair maiden often described in books.

The intense gazes of the crowd made Zhao Jiabi feel somewhat shy. But as the eldest daughter of the Zhao Family, managing vast family businesses and even refusing marriage to the Emperor herself, nothing could truly intimidate her. She quickly regained her composure. At that moment, Du Shaofu approached. With feigned elegance, he cupped his hands and said, “Greetings, young lady. I observe your graceful bearing and extraordinary demeanor. Truly, you appear to be one both learned and refined, born of cultured scholars. Seeing your eagerness to step forward, I wonder if you have any critiques regarding the verse I just offered? I am all ears!”

Du Shaofu was indeed crafty. With just two sentences, he tried to link himself to Miss Zhao. Claiming he wanted her critique was actually a disguised attempt at flirtation—or even harassment.

The sight of his sleazy expression filled Miss Zhao with disgust. Especially after the recent “Midnight Breast-Assault” incident, she harbored aversion toward and caution around men. Du Shaofu showing up now certainly meant trouble. Miss Zhao responded coldly, “Your verse is mediocre, frankly. Though matching in structure, it only speaks of mundane matters like rice and firewood – devoid of any poetic essence or deeper meaning. I shall refrain from commenting further!”

The crowd burst into murmurs. No one expected the fairy-like maiden to reject Du Shaofu so bluntly right away. Though claiming “no comment,” she had declared his verse utterly worthless. The literary trend genuinely leaned that way—poems were admired for their mood, symbolism, and depth. Du Shaofu’s ordinary theme, despite its neat structure, felt too superficial.

Miss Zhao’s words instantly won support from the scholarly crowd. Even Wu Yuzhou revealed a faint smile. Du Shaofu flushed slightly yet maintained his smile: “My knowledge is limited, young lady. I dare not arrogantly boast. Yet, if you refuse to comment, may I presume you possess a superior verse? Please, enlighten us.”

Du Shaofu tossed the challenge back to Zhao Jiabi. Since she had dismissed his verse, everyone now eagerly awaited a masterpiece from this ethereal maiden. However, in these times, few young women studied deeply—mere literacy was an accomplishment. Composing verses? Near impossible. Moreover, Miss Zhao was a designer and accountant—what time did she have for poetry? No way could she craft such a verse now. Yet, under intense scrutiny, she couldn’t just leave without anything. Walking away humiliated would ruin today’s entire advertisement plan. Resolved, Miss Zhao gave a sudden push…

The poor Liu Liwa, just helped upright by the Old Pedant, nearly ended up kissing the old man again! He whirled around, furious, glaring at Zhao Jiabi. But the young woman spoke first: “I am a mere woman, not inclined toward scholarly exertions. Why not let my servant here offer a verse instead?”

Servant? Who did she mean? People looked around until Miss Zhao dragged Liu Liwa forward. There he stood, dressed in fine silk robes—handsome, dashing, and elegant. He looked nothing like a servant! Even as he appeared, several young ladies were already casting flirtatious looks his way. Clearly, for some, appearance mattered most.

But Liu Liwa wasn’t about relying solely on looks. Glaring at Zhao Jiabi, he felt wronged. When a woman needed a male shield, didn’t she usually introduce him as her boyfriend? Why was he called a servant? Then again, it made sense—she was the Emperor’s woman. Pronouncing him a boyfriend amidst this gossipy crowd would be risky…

A chill ran through Liu Liwa. He planned to slip away quietly, but Miss Zhao held him tightly. Simultaneously, the Old Pedant lent a hand, chirping, “This gentleman leaped forward earlier, surely brimming with true talent! And since the young lady has placed her trust in you, you absolutely shouldn’t decline!”

Darn it, old man, why are you so enthusiastic? Liu Liwa seethed inside. He’d come to perform—a romance scene, not literary drama!

His anger surged, then he suddenly understood why the Old Pedant clung to him: during his earlier rush, he’d knocked the old man over. Though unhurt, the distressed gentleman had accidentally pulled off his iconic long goatee! He now resembled a tailless quail.

Liu Liwa nearly burst out laughing but held it in face of the audience. Despite dignified clothes, he lacked a bookish air. The Old Pedant put him in the “profligate” category. As the saying goes: old men treasure beards, young men their hair. A scholar’s beard symbolized wisdom; a warrior’s displayed resolve. Plucking a scholar’s beard robbed his intellect; a warrior’s, his prowess. Making the Old Pedant lose his beard was deep, unforgivable harm.

The Old Pedant gripped him determinedly, wanting him to face humiliation trying to compose a verse. Miss Zhao pulled him, intending him to trounce Du Shaofu. Amidst the staring crowd, Liu Liwa resigned himself. Just composing a couplet? After all, he was a college student (though he skipped mandatory lectures and ditched electives). Was this really scary?

He freed himself from Miss Zhao and the Old Pedant. His entire aura changed. Tall and upright, he stood distinct among thousands—his melancholy eyes, his unshaven stubble… he looked completely unique.

Smoothing his robes, he adopted an air of casual transcendence, as if about to ascend to immortality. Observing this, everyone held their breath, awaiting a legendary verse. Finally, Liu Liwa’s lips parted. What came out was: “What was the first line?”

The crowd nearly collapsed. After all this commotion, the fellow didn’t even know the first line? What had he been listening to midst the crowd? Was he just ogling young women?

The Old Pedant, gathering energy to see Liu Liwa fall flat, nearly ripped his chin stubble off hearing this. Glaring at him with reddened eyes, he spat venomously: “White Pagoda Street, the yellow-blacksmith, lights the scarlet stove, burns the black charcoal, emits the blue smoke, flashes the green flame, tempers the purple iron—forging east and west, facing south—”

“Oh, that?” Liu Liwa smirked dismissively. He turned to Miss Zhao, “What were you saying earlier?”

Zhao Jiabi nearly choked on her anger. Rolling her eyes, she pointed at Du Shaofu, who was winking at her, and said, “I said—his verse was rigid without imagination, without expression.”

“Got it.” Liu Liwa nodded. “So I must match structure, have artistic vision, and convey thought and feeling? Easy enough. Listen up: My verse is—Forebear ancestors, inheritor offspring, parse the left passage (Zuǒ Zhuàn), study the right general (Yòu Jiān), revere the high minister, occupy the central hall, command the lower tier—ascend as warrior, enter as statesman, enfeoffed as prince, crowned as lord—”