The Empress's No.1 Lackey

Chapter 993 - 560: Farewell to Dong Da Debuts! (Part 3)

Otherwise, how could he have received Zhao Douan’s gifted poem? And personally attend the Golden Autumn Gathering on behalf of Zhao Douan?

"Brother Zhao...he gifted me a poem?" Mr. Dong was stunned.

With an honest character, rare among the many nobles for his simplicity, Dong Shusheng felt a wave of emotion, almost bringing him to tears.

Given Zhao Douan’s esteemed status today, he still remembered his friend. Even guarding thousands of miles away, he sent a renowned poem across a thousand miles, how could such friendship not move him?

"May I ask, where is the poem?" Mr. Dong asked, clasping his hands.

Zhao Douan smiled and said, "The poem is within a military intelligence report, which is inconvenient for Mr. Dong to see, but I can transcribe it for you."

Having said that, he stepped forward to a table, picked up a brush, dipped it in thick ink, and began to write on the white paper.

Immediately, a crowd of literati swarmed over, craning their necks to see.

Han Zhou was also curious, "The last time I saw a poem by Junior Guardian Zhao, it was the one titled ’Night Record of Zhangtai.’ Even then, I felt the poem was full of grace and charm, and today I have the good fortune to witness it again."

As an unqualified plagiarist, Zhao Douan’s publicly copied poems were extremely limited, only during the last Zhangtai banquet.

The poem "In My Youth, I Met the Emperor’s Beauty" is widely known and now regarded in the streets as the ultimate romantic poem... However, many scholars also sneered, believing Zhao Douan flattered the Empress with the poem, thereby dishonoring the literary tradition, and although Night Record of Zhangtai was stunning in words, when it came to deep foundation, convincing... it wasn’t.

In the scholars’ impression, Zhao Douan, a martial artist, though perhaps learned, was not skilled in poetry.

However, today was different from the past, given Zhao Douan’s identity and status, no matter how poor he wrote, no one would dare to openly belittle it.

There would even be many who would flatter and praise it.

By this time, some people had already racked their brains, thinking about from which angle to flatter the trash poem Zhao Douan was about to write.

Han Zhou was also thinking about how to comment on it tactfully if the poem turned out mediocre.

However, the hurried Zhao Douan had already set down his pen, deliberately altering his usual handwriting.

As he wrote, Han Zhou began to read softly beside him:

"’Farewell to Dong Da’..."

"The yellow clouds stretch for a thousand miles, the sun dimmed... Hmm."

Reading the first line, Han Zhou gasped softly, the article reveals its depth as soon as it’s opened, the quality of a poem can be judged from the start.

This first line, though not extraordinarily high, immediately painted a vivid image before everyone’s eyes.

"The north wind blows the geese, snow flutters."

The second line followed, as if a picture appeared before the crowd, with clouds stretching for thousands of miles, the cold wind sending away the geese, and snow falling heavily.

Though it was currently autumn, not yet winter, considering that Dong Da was heading west to quell the rebellion.

Battlefields, continuous flames of war, the scene of a harsh winter was undoubtedly more fitting.

And soon it would indeed be winter, just as Dong Da would arrive in Xiping, matching the circumstance.

The last two lines, Han Zhou read out in one breath:

"Do not worry that on the road there are no friends..."

"Who in the world does not know you..."

With the recitation of these two lines, the entire pavilion fell silent.

Han Zhou was left in a daze, wholly absorbed and unable to pull away from the imagery of the poem.

A few scholars around were also captivated by the grandeur of these two lines.

"Who in the world does not know you... does not know you..." Dong Da murmured, repeatedly reciting the line, tears of heat rolling from his eyes, then suddenly burst into laughter.

Facing the southwest direction of Taicang, he respectfully bowed, "Brother Zhao’s great talent, with such a magnificent farewell poem, I would have no regrets even if I died on the battlefield!"

Ahem... Not to that extent, you can’t casually make flags like that... Zhao Douan mumbled in his heart, putting down the brush, as Dong Da and a group of scholars gazed fervently at the timeless poem.

He quietly withdrew from the crowd, saying to the equally curious Qian Kerou and others, "You wait here."

Then, he walked straight over, past the pavilion structures, heading towards the top of the slope, Gancao Platform.

Because of the appearance of ’Farewell to Dong Da,’ more and more eyes at the Golden Autumn Gathering were drawn to the commotion here.

Few noticed Zhao Douan leaving the crowd and beginning his ascent.

...

On Gancao Platform.

Amidst the banquet of ministers.

Some noticed the bustle below the hillside.

"Hey, what’s going on over there? Why is there such a gathering?" The Minister of Rites curiously asked.

Yuann Li glanced over and said, "Seems to be where the literary society is meeting?"

The Sacrificial Official Mei from the Imperial College chimed in, "It’s Grandmaster Dong’s grandson preparing to head west, so the scholars are writing poems to send him off."

The Minister of War laughed and said, "Then it must be a good poem. Come, someone, go inquire what poem has been written and bring it here for His Majesty to see."

A servant immediately began to run down from Gancao Platform, but stopped suddenly, astonished to see a solitary figure climbing uphill.

Wearing black attire and a white mask, Zhao Douan ascended the last step of Gancao Platform, raised his head, and saw the Empress and the full court of civil and military officials, surrounded by the imperial guard under the cool pavilion.

Everyone was taken aback.

Xu Zhenguan was also momentarily stunned, then a hint of skeptical delight flashed across her phoenix eyes, as if she guessed something, her breathing quickening slightly!