The world's attention focused on Song Shi'an.
It could be said that Minister Sun had prepared this entire banquet just for this one dish of vinegar-wrapped dumplings.
Selecting a husband for his young daughter, creating momentum for his son—these had been the banquet's original main purposes.
But now, the flavor had completely changed.
It was all aimed at Song Shi'an, aimed at the author of "Strategy for Military Farming," to show His Majesty the Sun clan of Yangzhou's determination to resist military farming.
Although Song Shi'an had obtained the jieyuan rank with this essay, after entering official service, he would only be a seventh-rank official, absolutely incapable of presiding over any major court affairs.
Much less could he become the core leader of a national policy as significant as military farming.
But such a person would certainly be assigned to implement it.
So the court's current plan was basically showing its cards openly.
Give Song Shi'an a safe county to govern as a magistrate, letting him build up some reputation and achievements.
If he could demonstrate the ability to govern a county, and in the short term—if not achieve prosperity and harmonious governance—at least maintain stability within his jurisdiction with modest success, then after his county magistrate term ended, he would certainly be promoted several ranks at once, entrusted with the heavy responsibility of military farming for an entire prefecture, becoming the youngest key court official in the realm.
Truly a case of the times creating the hero.
But did he dare to become this hero?
Minister Sun's targeting today was meant to make him retreat in the face of difficulty, not dare to stir up these troubled waters.
Now that he'd been pushed to the forefront, not advancing meant retreating.
If he quickly kowtowed to the Sun clan of Yangzhou now, the court would certainly abandon him—unable to offend the aristocratic families, how could he become this man of destiny?
Wei Yiyuan raised his wine cup, watching Song Shi'an intently, becoming involuntarily serious.
Composing a poem in the name of a "birthday" was actually a huge trap.
Everyone knew that for Song Shi'an, who had written "An Exhortation to Learning," poetry wasn't a difficulty, but his comfort zone.
But at this moment, the quality of the poem was completely unimportant.
At a venerable elder's birthday banquet, he asks you to dedicate a poem to him. If you eulogize him, how will military farming proceed in the future? This poem could be used to manipulate you for a lifetime.
If you lose your temper, truly get angered into lashing out, and begin insulting and mocking Minister Sun—not only would it be undignified, showing no respect for an elder, the Sun clan could attack you with justification in the future.
Wei Yiyuan couldn't think of any win-win strategy.
"Is the jieyuan 'throwing out a brick to attract jade,' or just stalling for time, weighing every word?" Han Zhongchen, who had actually cheated, mocked righteously.
Song Shi'an slowly raised his wine cup and stood up.
He walked away from his seat.
His steps swayed.
He was actually composing poetry while holding wine, quite unrestrained.
Gao Yunyi now felt that Song Shi'an, this fellow, was truly brave.
Song Shi'an, seated in a corner, walked forward step by step.
As if walking the path he'd once traveled.
Born in rural Shandong, he had spent a long time walking to the forefront.
Without any propriety, even somewhat disheveled, he reached a scholar and pointed at him. Due to his drunkenness, his finger kept sinking downward: "The ambition of a true man—"
"..."
That sub-yuan was startled, dumbfounded.
But Song Shi'an continued walking.
"Should be like the great river rushing east to the vast sea."
This sentence was directed at Han Zhongchen.
No one understood what these words meant as a prelude to composing poetry.
But everyone felt them to be deeply inspiring and ambitious.
And he was still walking forward!
By rights, the center of the hall should have been enough.
But he was getting closer and closer to Minister Sun.
"Why," he stopped before Fan Wuji, "must you long for a land of gentleness?"
Fan Wuji froze.
He didn't understand how he'd offended Song Shi'an, why he would speak to him this way.
But at the same time, he truly felt somewhat embarrassed.
He really had been attracted to Miss Sun Jinhu, losing some of his restraint in his eagerness to show off.
Sun Jinhu was even more innocent.
Huh? He's scolding me too?
"If you don't long for a land of gentleness, why compose poetry!" Han Zhongchen couldn't bear it anymore and cursed: "Could it be you couldn't win the Minister's and Miss's favor, so you're jealous!"
Your grand discourse is just saying we're showing off endlessly before the Minister and Miss, lacking masculine backbone, isn't it?
Sun Heng also grew angry, saying: "If you're composing poetry, just compose poetry—what's with all this? Of all the sub-yuan here, only you're pure! Only you're noble!"
Yet his scolding seemed to have no effect on him.
Moreover, he actually continued walking forward!
He'd already passed Sun Heng and Sun Qian's frontmost positions.
He was now right before Minister Sun and the Prince of Zhongping.
"Insolent! How dare you offend His Highness and the Minister!" Sun Heng stood up.
But the next moment, he did something even more excessive.
Facing those two, he actually turned around.
His back to both the Minister and the prince.
Instantly, all the sub-yuan, including Sun Qian and Sun Heng, simultaneously raised their sleeves and lowered their heads, all assuming apologetic postures to look away.
Wei Yiyuan's eyebrows also slightly lowered, revealing a sharp, eagle-like gaze.
Being drunk was no excuse for offending a prince.
Minister Sun was even more furious, just about to stand up.
Suddenly, Song Shi'an's voice rang out loudly:
"Why should a man not wear the Yu hook and reclaim the fifty territories of the passes and mountains?"
His voice was resonant and imposing as a rainbow.
More importantly, this line of poetry embraced the world with mountain-swallowing grandeur.
It spoke of the northern territories that once belonged to Great Yu but had been seized by the false Qi.
Right in the midst of the two armies at war, it was undoubtedly grand in vision and bold in spirit.
This single line alone temporarily replaced everyone's fear with shock.
And next, facing the sub-yuan of the examinations, the sons of noble houses, Song Shi'an raised his finger, pointing at them one by one, enunciating each word: "I ask you gentlemen, ascend for a moment to the Cloudy Pavilion."
Involuntarily, Fan Wuji, Gao Yunyi, and the others slowly raised their heads, their expressions tense and uneasy.
But Song Shi'an's rebuke came crashing down in the next frame, a resounding question: "Which scholar becomes a marquis of ten thousand households?"
"..."
The beauty of poetry was easy to recognize.
These favored sons of heaven could all compose on the spot.
But the lofty righteousness and spirit within—not everyone possessed these.
This poem, without question, opened an area-of-effect attack.
And it was wildly arrogant.
Yet it truly was the ultimate goal in life for everyone with lofty aspirations.
Even Minister Sun, a great worthy of his generation, had never seen anything similar.
Without doubt, it was original.
"'I ask you gentlemen, ascend for a moment to the Cloudy Pavilion, which scholar becomes a marquis of ten thousand households'..."
Gao Yunyi murmured this line, his blood already beginning to boil.
Those founding meritorious officials enfeoffed as dukes and marquises who entered the Cloudy Pavilion—which one hadn't expanded territory and established tremendous achievements?
Which one was a cowardly, corrupt scholar?
Slowly, under everyone's gaze, Song Shi'an turned around, facing Minister Sun and the Prince of Zhongping.
Still holding his wine cup, he even bowed to them both.
Meaning: this student's poem is finished.
The offense against the imperial family naturally hadn't passed.
But the Prince of Zhongping chose to be lenient.
He looked toward Minister Sun.
"'I ask you gentlemen, ascend for a moment to the Cloudy Pavilion, which scholar becomes a marquis of ten thousand households.' It truly is a fine poem, full of heroic ambition."
Minister Sun stared at Song Shi'an. After saying this, he solemnly questioned back, his tone icy: "But what does this poem have to do with this old man's 'birthday'?"
Song Shi'an's lips curved slightly upward. He extended his wine cup and released it. After it fell with a clanging sound that made everyone jump in fear and hold their breath, he smiled and said: "What does your 'birthday' have to do with me?"
With that, he flicked his sleeves, turned, and walked out of the great hall.