Chapter 49: All Pursuits Are of Low Degree, Only Scholarship Stands High

Inside the inn, voices of praise rose in a continuous wave, while the tavern keeper and the attendants were shaken to their core.

As a renowned restaurant and inn in the capital, they had witnessed countless travelers coming and going. They were well aware that every single one of these first lines had been meticulously collected by the son of Senior Grand Secretary Yan, and they were certain that the scholars in the world capable of answering them were as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns.

How could others not know the inside story, let alone them?

Yet, they never expected that in the span of just a short moment, these six peerless matching lines would be answered by this erudite old scholar as effortlessly as cutting vegetables and melons!

With all these things happening, it was truly hard not to let one's mind wander.

Fan Jin did not notice the changes in the atmosphere. Taking two or three steps forward, his slightly cloudy yet sharp-glistening eyes looked once again toward the fourth first line hanging from the third-floor railing.

The rest of the scholars held their breath in absolute concentration, terrified of making the slightest sound that might disturb the stillness.

The tavern keeper and the servants shrank back like quails.

Once this old scholar answered all six lines, the two distinguished guests on the third floor would likely no longer be able to sit still and would personally cast down an olive branch.

If he caught the eye of those two figures, regardless of whether this old scholar was a retired official or an instructor at some academy, he was bound to soar straight to the heavens. The day of his dramatic rise like a dragon leaping through the clouds was surely not far away!

Fan Jin's gaze fell upon the fourth first line, where he saw it written in elegant running script: "Mouth under heaven, mouth above heaven, the ambition to swallow Wu."

"This line is no simple matter!" Fan Jin straightened his face, his expression turning grave.

Logically speaking, this fourth line shared the same ingenious design as the third, both utilizing radical combinations to form characters—together spelling out 'swallowing Wu'.

Aside from a slight increase in difficulty, the poetic resonance was undoubtedly even stronger.

In a mere ten characters, it fully conveyed the unorthodox ambition and boundless grand vision of the author.

If it were merely a matter of structural neatness, that would be one thing; with so many celebrities gathered here, given some time, most could probably answer it.

However, demanding that the artistic conception match was a difficult task indeed.

"Does Brother Fan have any clues?" After a long while, a scholar stepped forward, biting the bullet and asking hesitantly.

Fan Jin looked at the speaker, vaguely remembering that he was the son of a prefectural assistant magistrate, named Li Sanyuan.

From this name alone, one could perceive the deep expectations his family had pinned upon him.

And Li Sanyuan had not lived up to those expectations, consecutively capturing top honors in the county, prefectural, and academy examinations, as well as the provincial examination, awaiting only the metropolitan examination to claim the ultimate crown.

Fan Jin nodded slightly toward Li Sanyuan, smiling and sighing: "I was fortunate enough to hit upon the matching line."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the tavern keeper busily ordered someone to prepare brush and ink, waiting upon him attentively.

Fan Jin did not beat around the bush; he put brush to paper and inscribed: "King amidst men, king beside men, the intention to surrender entirely."

A gasp!

The crowd of scholars swarmed forward. Upon reading and savoring it for a moment, gasps of astonishment echoed all around.

With this matching line, not only did it seamlessly catch the overwhelming ambition radiating from the first line, but it went even further, adding a sense of carefree wit and flavor.

Fan Jin was likewise quite satisfied with this matching line.

Especially the latter half, which possessed a carefree and untrammeled spirit akin to 'let the winds blow from east, west, north, or south.'

While the main hall was in the midst of this commotion, a page boy pushed open the door of a private room on the third floor of the Wangyue Pavilion, walked before an old man and a youth, and quickly recounted what had just happened downstairs.

The old man and the youth, who were in the middle of a game of go, both instinctively paused.

The old man, dressed in a scarlet robe with a golden belt, stroked his beard and smiled, then slowly placed his stone: "Young Master Yan, you have lost this game!"

Hearing this, the young man in luxurious attire froze in surprise, then smiled awkwardly: "Director Zhou, your chess skills are still superior after all. My own cultivation is ultimately still a bit lacking."

Pausing for a moment, he continued: "Even if that person is fortunate enough to answer the fourth line, it doesn't necessarily mean he can sweep through the rest and answer the remaining two as well."

The old man smiled without speaking, took a sip of tea, and then slowly said: "Let us watch, let us watch."

Fan Jin was unaware of the identities of the two men on the third floor; otherwise, he might have been overwhelmed with joy.

He had never imagined that his benefactor-teacher would not have to spend several years wandering in obscurity as in the original story, but had already assumed office as the Director of the Imperial Academy.

And judging by the appearance of things, Yan Shifan was also treating him with great courtesy.

This was hardly surprising. Although the Director of the Imperial Academy was only a minor fourth-rank official, the position was prestigious and refined, standing as a paragon of the scholarly community.

Let alone Yan Shifan, even dukes and marquises whose titles endured alongside the state had to show Zhou Jin sufficient respect.

Such a status could not simply be weighed by the highness of an official rank.

Unaware of what was transpiring on the third floor, Fan Jin merely felt a vague sense that he had likely drawn the attention of a major figure by now. He prepared to press on with renewed vigor, only to find that the fifth first line was missing.

Before he could ask, the tavern keeper said politely: "Please bear with us, Old Scholar. The truth is that this fifth first line is slightly longer in character count."

With that, he instructed an attendant to fetch a thin volume, opened it, and read aloud:

"White Tower Street, Yellow Blacksmith, kindling a red furnace, burning black charcoal, puffing blue smoke, flashing blue light, quenching purple iron, sitting facing north to strike east and west."

After a brief moment of deliberation, Fan Jin understood in his heart.

This first line described White Tower Street in Luzhou, Sichuan, where there was a blacksmith shop operated by a blacksmith whose surname was Huang.

The author happened to encounter it by chance and thus took the blacksmithing as a theme to compose the first line.

Compared to the fourth line, this one did not test poetic resonance as much as it focused on technique.

This first line contained seven colors—white, yellow, red, black, green, blue, and purple—closely woven into nouns and verbs, while the second half incorporated the four cardinal directions: east, south, west, and north.

What made it most agonizing was that such a concise couplet seamlessly integrated so many elements together, well-ordered and completely devoid of clutter.

Such a couplet easily explained why it had stumped countless people, leaving the crowd of scholars scratching their heads and at their wits' end.

However, if it was purely a test of technique, it could not stump Fan Jin. After all, could the strict constraints of this couplet possibly be more confining than eight-legged essays?

Moreover, this first line faintly conveyed the intention of selecting talent, as if a high-ranking court official were searching for someone of potential.

If this couplet were answered well, he would likely truly establish a connection with a major figure!

The time it took to brew a cup of tea passed. Fan Jin gently exhaled a breath of stale air, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth: "Bring paper and brush!"

The tavern keeper had been waiting aside all along. Hearing this, he started with a jolt and hurriedly rushed to prepare them as instructed.

Mr. Fan recited the first line once more, and then brought his brush down to compose the matching line:

"Zhoukou Street, Qin Scholar, reciting Han rhapsodies, chanting Tang poetry, composing Song lyrics, singing Yuan songs, observing Ming history, passing through winter and summer to view the Spring and Autumn Annals."

Splendid!

The moment Fan Jin lifted his brush, the main hall erupted in a clamor of cheers and applause.

Many people began to savor it in detail, and the more they read, the more unique a flavor it revealed.

The first line recorded the story of a blacksmith surnamed Huang from Luzhou, while the matching line correspondingly told the story of a scholar surnamed Qin from Zhoukoudian.

Zhou, Qin, Han, Tang, Song, Yuan, and Ming were listed sequentially, corresponding to the seven colors; spring, summer, autumn, and winter directly pointed to east, south, west, and north.

Even more excitingly, while the first line exerted supreme ingenuity, it was perhaps slightly petty.

In contrast, this matching line elevated the artistic conception of the entire couplet by several levels.

Truly, it could be called: "All pursuits are of low grade, only scholarship is high."

How could a couplet like this be something an ordinary person could match?