Chapter 118: Little Shen, if you’re not going to act, what are you waiting for?

Xu Zijian furrowed his brow.

According to past practice, such academic contests usually involved preparing dozens, even over a hundred topics written on paper, then drawing lots to decide the theme.

But now, Jiang Tianji had outright assigned the topic himself.

The few people Xu Zijian brought along changed their expressions as well.

This was highly unfair to the domestic side.

If Jiang Tianji had prepared this topic a year ago and had his students compose poetry accordingly, how could they possibly win?

How could on-the-spot improvisation at home compare to the long-term preparation abroad?

"Professor Jiang, isn't this a bit biased?" Xu Zijian asked with a frown.

Jiang Tianji smiled gently. "I understand what you’re worried about, Professor Xu. But what I want to say is, if your impromptu performance today is outstanding enough, wouldn’t that also signify our recognition?"

Ning Zheng had yet to speak when Zhou Yanshi said, "I think this approach is excellent."

The domestic side needed this kind of stimulus.

In earlier years, the country vigorously developed heavy industry and technology to quickly boost the economy.

Now that the economy had improved, traditional culture had to begin its revival.

The national policy was correct, so many cities started to focus on cultural tourism.

Some cultural tourism directors even appeared on camera themselves to become internet celebrities, aiming to boost local tourism.

Certain counties had even appointed "Most Beautiful City Ambassadors," soliciting writings everywhere.

These were all within Ning Zheng’s jurisdiction.

"Xiao Zheng, if you win today, it will greatly benefit your plans in Jiangnan," Zhou Yanshi said.

Ning Zheng’s ancestral home was in Jiangnan, a region famous for its water towns and a booming tourism industry. It was also a vital inland city.

Recently, a higher-level meeting had declared the intention to make Jiangnan’s water towns a dazzling card to promote domestically and internationally.

That meeting had taken place a month ago, and the ministry had begun drafting related documents.

But if you asked Ning Zheng if he had any truly good ideas, the answer was no.

It was mostly just throwing money around and launching all-encompassing publicity campaigns.

Such efforts had some effect, but spending money often felt like an external ploy.

If one could make the region famous just by investing money, then anyone appointed minister afterward could achieve what Ning Zheng had.

So, if they won today, the first branch of the research institute would be established in Jiangnan’s water towns.

That would be another political achievement.

And to whom would this achievement belong?

Naturally, to Ning Zheng.

"With themes like Bright Moon, Autumn Thoughts, and Mid-Autumn Festival, very fitting. Who will go first?" Zhou Yanshi asked as he picked up a piece of Kung Pao chicken.

Unexpectedly, he found the dish delicious—rich in aroma, flavor, and color, with a spicy sensation that exploded in his mouth, much to his delight.

"Senior Zhou, Secretary Ning, Professor Xu, I’ll go first," said Deputy Captain Lin Qianqian, standing up.

She was Malaysian, her family business frequently listed on Forbes.

She was strikingly beautiful but carried no hint of worldliness.

She spoke slowly: "Soft moonlight sprinkles the empty steps, the moon at Mid-Autumn shines especially bright. Let go of talk about waxing and waning, for this is truly the best time on earth."

As the poem was recited, Zhou Yanshi pondered briefly, then applauded.

"Excellent, excellent. The theme is clear, the rhyme perfect, the parallelism elegant—a true literary talent!"

"Please forgive my poor offering," Lin Qianqian smiled, then sat down.

Shen Xian glanced at her again, surprised that a foreigner could be so deeply versed in classical poetry—and with such skill. To compose just that one line, "this is truly the best time on earth," how many could manage it?

Even Jiang Tianji brightened at the sight; this quatrain was of superb quality.

Though he had informed them of the theme a month in advance, preparing so well within that time was no easy feat.

Xu Zijian felt it was unfair, but since the other side held the initiative, they called the shots.

If they wanted their investment to pay off, they had to show real skill.

"Ruan Bo, any ideas?" Qi Zhengqing, though a Chinese literature graduate, had spent years mingling mostly with women, and the knowledge he learned in school had long since been forgotten, not to mention composing poetry.

So he asked Ruan Bo, deputy secretary-general of the Classical Poetry Association.

Ruan Bo frowned, thought for a moment, then stammered, "I'm thinking."

Given enough time, he could compose something.

But the key was improvisation on the spot.

To produce a poem with neat parallelism and clear theme in such a short time was perhaps only possible for the geniuses of old.

The timeless quatrains were sometimes born of sudden inspiration, but more often from tireless refinement.

For example, "A bird perches by the pondside tree, a monk knocks on the moonlit door"—whether it was "push" or "knock" on the moonlit door was debated for a long time.

Not only could Ruan Bo not produce anything, but the others who came with him also found it difficult to come up with anything suitable in such a brief span.

Suddenly, a professor beside Xu Zijian spoke up.

"Let me try one."

He paused thoughtfully, then recited:

"Starry sky’s precious mirror rises, silent midst the clouds’ embrace. Autumn’s full orb glows complete, the Milky Way flows like clear water."

The listeners all showed signs of contemplation.

Zhou Yanshi compared the two poems and soon realized a harsh truth: the professor’s poem was not as good as Lin Qianqian’s.

A faint smile appeared on Jiang Tianji’s face.

"Senior Zhou, you’re the judge now. Care to comment?"

Zhou Yanshi said, "Whether in theme or imagery, your side clearly wins!"

The young people in the institute’s team cheered with joy.

This was an honor.

Jiang Tianji said to Ning Zheng, "Secretary Ning, please continue. If your poem surpasses this one, you will proceed to the next round."

It was clear from his words that Jiang Tianji had prepared thoroughly this time.

Ruan Bo and the others felt extremely unfair.

By all rights, shouldn’t drawing lots to decide the topic be fairer?

Or perhaps having Zhou Yanshi set the topic would be more appropriate.

The woman who had scored full marks on the college entrance essay lowered her head, deep in thought.

Countless words collided in her mind, but no suitable inspiration or entry point came to her quickly.

Xu Zijian also thought hard but found no clue.

The more anxious he became, the more inspiration dried up.

He scratched his head in frustration.

Finally, unable to hold back, he looked at Shen Xian.

At that moment, Shen Xian was enjoying the braised shark fin his stepmother had served him.

Xu Zijian said, "Xiao Shen, what are you waiting for if you’re not going to make a move?"