"Student Li Xiaobai pays his respects to both honored teachers." Li Xiaobai walked up to the stage with great courtesy.
Shen the Great Talent gazed at him with a smile and nodded.
But Teacher Jiang from the private school asked, "Xiaobai, do you have a poem?"
A trace of worry lay between Teacher Jiang's brows. This Li Xiaobai was middling in talent — he could only hope the boy had accumulated something in his spare time, for otherwise, given his usual level, the result was bound to be disappointing.
Disappointing on a normal day, that would be one thing. But now, in front of Shen the Great Talent... especially since the early and middle stages of this literary contest had already been spectacular, sure to make a name across the land. If the final portion fell flat, even if people knew of Teacher Jiang's scholarly ability, they would quietly mock him as no true mentor.
"Teacher, this student does indeed have a poem," Li Xiaobai answered immediately, his expression confident.
"Then recite it for us." Teacher Jiang relaxed slightly.
In this Huawen Grotto-Heaven, things were different from ordinary places — the literary culture was extraordinarily flourishing.
The reason was simple: compose a single good poem, and even if no one praised it, Heaven and Earth themselves would reward you!
Thus, the study of poetry and literature was tremendously important, affecting everything from daily sustenance to one's status, reputation, and future.
Generally speaking, the vast majority of scholars accumulated works in their daily lives — good lines and phrases, even if they didn't form complete poems, tucked away and saved for future use.
Many scholars, even after composing excellent poems, chose not to publish them. The purpose was to conceal their true ability, to be ready for the ceaseless literary contests.
In such an environment, Li Xiaobai having poems stashed away was hardly surprising.
Li Xiaobai had already thought everything through carefully.
"I have memorized a great many poems — numerous peerless works that have been passed down through the ages on Earth, growing ever more radiant with time."
"But using these peerless masterpieces would be a terrible idea!"
"This grotto-heaven is a Path of Information environment, specializing above all in gathering intelligence. Techniques for observing literary qi and talent qi are known to nearly everyone — though skill varies."
"My own literary qi and talent qi are lacking. Before my soul transmigration, I was merely an ordinary student. Rashly producing a peerless masterpiece would not only fail to convince anyone but would invite suspicion and trigger an investigation."
"Even if I explained afterward that I hadn't written it, it would be too late. I'd be branded as dishonest — and in this world, that would earn contempt and even scorn."
Fang Yuan had long since calculated numerous strategies for conquering the Huawen Grotto-Heaven, prepared to handle every possible situation.
This clone, Li Xiaobai, had neither sufficient literary qi nor talent qi — he did not possess Fang Yuan's own brilliance, carrying over only a small measure.
However, Li Xiaobai's memory held a great many famous poems — not only those from Earth but also works of Fang Yuan's own composition.
Li Xiaobai promptly selected one and began to recite it in a slow, measured voice.
Teacher Jiang secretly exhaled in relief. The poem had neat parallel structure and substantive content — it would just barely hold its own in today's contest.
"What's the big deal? That's nothing special."
"I've been classmates with Li Xiaobai for three years. Today he's performing above his usual level. Ha ha."
"Isn't that perfect? With his poem as a foil, the next two lucky ones are in for a treat."
The students in the audience grew ever more animated in their thinking.
Though Li Xiaobai's poem matched his reputation, among his classmates there were still plenty who surpassed him.
Some students, in particular, had secretly treasured quite a few poems close to their hearts.
These poems were the product of tireless mental effort, painstakingly refined — works that would be overkill on lesser occasions but were perfectly suited to today.
When the drums sounded again and the red flower began to circulate, these elite students were all restless with anticipation, eyes gleaming.
The drums fell silent.
The vast majority of students were disappointed — why wasn't it me?
Then their eyes reddened with envy — why was it him again?!
The red flower had come to rest on Li Xiaobai's desk once more.
"Huh?" Li Xiaobai was equally surprised.
"Rules must be honored. I'm afraid you'll have to come up again." Shen the Great Talent shook his head with a smile.
Teacher Jiang grew worried once more. Given Li Xiaobai's talent and depth, the previous performance had already been above his level — this time, surely...
But Li Xiaobai recited another poem.
This poem was exactly on par with the first.
Teacher Jiang relaxed, his gaze toward Li Xiaobai softening. "It seems this student of mine, though lacking in natural talent, knows the value of daily diligence — enough to have accumulated two poems. These must be his own compositions. At his level, that's no small feat."
Li Xiaobai had not lost face for him, and Teacher Jiang was quite gratified.
"The last person has been chosen."