The Fragmented Verse Sage Fang Zheng

Cen Wense felt somewhat perplexed.

Wenny? Is he addressing me? This form of address is quite novel. Perhaps Minister Fang is from the south?

But his accent doesn't sound southern.

It must be a personal habit! And somehow this way of addressing me feels quite intimate!

Cen Wense didn't think too much about it and slowly sat down.

"Ahem.. ahem..!" Fang Zheng cleared his throat and continued. "Thank you all for your high praise, but I, Fang Zheng, hardly deserve the title of Fragmented Verse Sage. I'm truly embarrassed."

"To be completely honest... I have no interest in poetry! I absolutely cannot compose poetry!"

The officials' expressions began to change as they looked at Fang Zheng.

Showing off! Isn't this just showing off?

Fake modesty is fine! But there's no need to be this modest. If you can't compose poetry, does that mean none of us can write?

After silently despising him, several officials said. "Minister Fang is being too modest! Your 'Rain on Wutong Trees' has spread throughout the north and south of our great Jing Dynasty!"

"Indeed, Minister Fang's poetic talent is known to all in the capital! Today you must give us some guidance! 'Passionate since ancient times, the pain of parting...'"

Seeing someone picking up chopsticks and tapping the side of a bowl, about to start singing, Fang Zheng hurriedly said. "Fine! Fine!"

"Since everyone insists, I'll say a few words!"

After speaking, Fang Zheng fell silent again. The others watched him eagerly, hoping to hear some profound insights.

After pondering for a moment, Fang Zheng organized his thoughts and said. "That poem just now is called 'Sympathy for the Farmers,' which I composed while witnessing disaster victims during my relief work in Jianjiang!"

"As for composing poetry.. there's no special technique. The main thing is to discover the beauty in life. Beauty is everywhere in life, and when you accumulate enough material and combine it, poetry naturally flows from genuine feeling!"

"For example.. um. Look at this dish!" Fang Zheng looked around and pointed to a plate of minced meat with green beans. Everyone's eyes focused on the dish.

"This dish of minced meat with green beans. The beans are just ordinary beans."

"A bit of minced meat isn't anything special either, but when combined, as you can see, they create a deliciously flavored dish!"

The officials nodded in agreement.

That made sense. Composing poetry is indeed about accumulating material, refining language, and waiting for that flash of inspiration.

But this wasn't particularly profound advice...

Seeing that everyone was still looking at him, Fang Zheng reluctantly continued. "Look! Here's a plate of fried dough balls!"

"Do you know how these dough balls are made?"

Everyone shook their heads. They were scholars, who would study kitchen matters?

A gentleman stays far from the kitchen!

"These dough balls look large, but originally they were just tiny bits of dough," Fang Zheng said, making a small measurement with his fingers. "How does such a small piece expand into such a large ball?!"

Everyone shook their heads again, not understanding.

Fang Zheng gradually found his rhythm. "It's deep-frying! After being fried in hot oil, it begins to expand. You can see that the dough contains tremendous potential."

"In poetic composition, this hot oil is like inspiration. Without frying, it remains just an ordinary, unremarkable ball of dough."

"Daily accumulation is certainly important, but without the right moment, it's difficult to create poetry!"

"Composing poetry is like frying dough balls. Creating good poetry requires ninety-nine percent accumulation plus one percent inspiration!"

"Just carefully observe everyday life, accumulate knowledge with dedication, and when the moment comes and inspiration strikes, good poetry will naturally emerge!"

"That's all I have to say!"

Fang Zheng wiped away cold sweat, unsure if he'd managed to fool them...

Clearly, Fang Zheng's explanation hadn't fooled the others.

Although his examples were somewhat novel, this was trivial knowledge!

It didn't help improve anyone's poetic skills at all! Just empty words!

Who doesn't know that composing poetry requires both accumulation and inspiration!?

Accumulation is fine, but how do you find inspiration? What about practical techniques? Examples?

Seeing Fang Zheng about to sit down, Cen Wense grew anxious.

As a lover of good poetry, he had expected to hear profound insights, but Fang Zheng had only offered vague generalities.

How could he be satisfied with that?

Before Fang Zheng could sit down, Cen Wense loudly said. "Since we've come this far, why doesn't Minister Fang compose another poem for us to learn from?"

Compose your mother!

Barely containing his disgust, Fang Zheng angrily said. "I already told you poetry requires inspiration!"

"Literature is heaven-made, skillful hands occasionally obtain it. Without inspiration! I can't compose anything!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a wave of applause erupted!

The officials looked at Fang Zheng with delighted eyes.

Cen Wense stood up excitedly and said. "What a fine verse! Minister Fang's inspiration truly comes on command! Most admirable!"

Fang Zheng was dumbfounded, watching everyone applauding him, completely speechless...

Beside him, Zhang Dongxiang looked up and nodded repeatedly.

Wonderful! Wonderful! Truly worthy of being called a prodigy!

Though his conduct may be improper, his cultural foundation is undeniably profound, far beyond what ordinary people could match!

Truly extraordinary!

"........" Fang Zheng's toes began working overtime again, making him want to slap himself hard!

Now he was stuck, unable to stand or sit comfortably. Would these people keep questioning him?

Sure enough, as the applause died down, someone immediately asked. "Literature is heaven-made, skillful hands occasionally obtain it. What comes next?"

Next?

"There is no next!" Fang Zheng said expressionlessly. "A flash of inspiration, that's all I could compose. I've truly embarrassed myself today! After all, I only compose fragments of poems and verses! I've ruined everyone's enjoyment, please forgive me!"

With that, Fang Zheng quickly sat down and drank two cups of wine in succession.

This is truly inhuman work! If I ever recite another poem, I'm a dog!

Seeing that Fang Zheng had sat down with such a resolute attitude, the others couldn't press further and could only shake their heads and mutter to themselves as they pondered his words.

But Cen Wense, having been thrust into the spotlight, wasn't ready to give up. He asked insistently. "Minister Fang, this verse...."

Before he could finish, Fang Zheng quickly thrust chopsticks into Cen Wense's hand and pointed at the roast chicken on the table. "Wenny, use your chopsticks and eat some meat!"

"This dish is delicious, don't let it get cold!"

If eating doesn't shut your mouth, what will? Be quiet!

Cen Wense awkwardly took the chopsticks and picked up a piece of meat, chewing it slowly.

While he was chewing, Fang Zheng quickly filled his bowl with a heaping portion of food.

With a superior personally serving him, Cen Wense could only bow his head and eat out of politeness.

The dining tables returned to their previous lively atmosphere.

Groups of three or five chatted among themselves, and as they talked, someone suddenly said. "Something funny happened today!"

"Minister Fang borrowed my mark, but then he borrowed from three others as well. When we went to ask for them back, we all happened to meet together. With so many officials in the examination compound, just the four of us ran into each other. Isn't that a coincidence?!"

"What! Minister Fang borrowed your mark too?" another official immediately exclaimed.

"That's odd! Minister Fang should have borrowed from me first?!"

"He borrowed from me as well!"

"And me too........."

Everyone began chattering about this matter.

Finally, they realized that Fang Zheng had borrowed marks from everyone!

All eyes instantly focused on Fang Zheng.

The previously relaxed and cheerful atmosphere suddenly became tense! A sense of unease and anxiety filled the air!

Zhang Dongxiang's face darkened abruptly, as if realizing something. He stared unpleasantly at Fang Zheng, who was eating as if nothing were happening.

With a deep voice, he said. "Minister Fang, what's the meaning of this? You borrowed all the officials' marks for what purpose? Give me an explanation!"

Fang Zheng stopped eating, put down his chopsticks, and wiped his mouth.

Casually, he said. "Marks? What marks?"