Five Years After My Death, the Mad Emperor Still Summons My Spirit

Ming Lingyi didn’t know why Li Yan had suddenly lowered his head, his ears turning red. Her attention was quickly drawn to the sounds from downstairs.

"Mr. Zhang’s ’Cold Moon Night’ will also be displayed in our Wangxian Building tonight. And that is the complete collection of poems from today’s event that will be hung for display inside the restaurant," Ma Ji announced loudly, standing in the center of the first floor.

He was positively beaming, a clear sign that the day’s event had been a resounding success.

Even without having tallied the day’s accounts, Ma Ji had a strong feeling that today’s revenue would be the highest of the year.

The more money he made for his boss, the bigger his own bonus would be. Of course, he was delighted.

At this very moment, Ma Ji was even wondering, ’If that female proprietor from the Ming Family knew how well Wangxian Building was doing, wouldn’t she be green with envy right now?’

The thought of how desolate Ming’s Restaurant must be today made Ma Ji decide on the spot: tomorrow, he would absolutely go to Huaided Fang to enjoy the "lively" spectacle at Ming’s Restaurant.

He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Ming’s Restaurant being utterly deserted.

"Tomorrow, our restaurant will hold this competition again. In the evening, we will select and announce the poems from you talented scholars, which will be hung in the restaurant for everyone to enjoy," Ma Ji announced loudly.

Ming Lingyi raised an eyebrow in surprise upon hearing this.

She’d known Wangxian Building intended to set up a rival stage and compete directly with her, but she hadn’t realized they planned to hold this competition every single day.

Even Xianyun Liushui Pavilion in Shangjing City didn’t organize such activities as frequently as Wangxian Building.

Besides, no matter how many scholars and talented men Shangjing City had, they couldn’t possibly withstand being "drained dry" by Wangxian Building at this rate.

Furthermore, people could come to Wangxian Building every day and see new works from different scholars. But if Wangxian Building was only using the promise of fame and reputation to lure them in, Ming Lingyi didn’t believe this could last. Someone was bound to have an issue with it eventually.

’To put it bluntly, what some people see as Wangxian Building’s "high-mindedness" will soon just be seen as a place to "read for free."’

’Public opinion is a fickle thing; the wind can change direction at any moment.’

’When that happens, the shopkeeper of Wangxian Building won’t be the one in control anymore.’

Just as this thought crossed Ming Lingyi’s mind, a commotion erupted from the private room opposite hers.

"I disagree!"

’What a coincidence.’ Ming Lingyi looked up and saw the person in the private room across from them. ’Isn’t that the very subject of their discussion at dinner tonight?’

Clearly, this Xu Qian was quite "famous" at the Imperial College.

"That’s Xu Qian. His father is the Chief Secretary, Lord Xu Qin," Li Yan explained dutifully from the side, afraid his mother might not know who he was. "The man is... rather..." Li Yan paused, as if recalling something utterly ridiculous. A complicated look crossed his young face. "Exceedingly confident."

After much thought, Li Yan had finally found the right word to describe Xu Qian.

’Yes, exceedingly confident.’

No matter how much others tried to tear him down, Xu Qian always had his own logic. He would never "parrot others" and was extremely "true to himself."

"After every one of the Imperial College’s periodic exams, if he doesn’t get a good ranking, he’s guaranteed to go find the instructors to argue his case," Li Yan said.

He gave a low cough. ’If it weren’t for Xu Qian’s rather powerful father,’ he thought, ’the instructors at the Imperial College would have probably ganged up to throw him out long ago.’

Ming Lingyi laughed out loud.

’It seems this gentleman is indeed supremely confident.’

Ma Ji had likely never imagined that someone would be dissatisfied with the results of his poetry event.

He looked up in the direction of the voice and saw Xu Qian standing by the railing of a second-floor private room.

After leaving the Imperial College, the young master had changed into his everyday attire in his carriage.

He wore a crimson-purple brocade robe, its subtly embroidered cloud patterns shimmering with a faint light. The color alone was rather flamboyant, and Xu Qian’s attire was always "exquisite." A *diexie* belt of white jade was fastened at his waist, from which a matching mutton-fat white jade pendant hung, chiming with his every move.

One glance told you he was the young master of a wealthy family.

To say nothing of Xu Qian’s love for cosmetics. His face was dusted with a light powder, and his exquisitely shaped eyebrows slanted upwards toward his temples, lending his features a certain florid beauty.

Even the ornament in his hair had been switched to one of purple jade.

He was the very picture of exquisite opulence.

Seeing the row of servants standing behind Xu Qian, Ma Ji immediately adopted a respectful tone. "Might I ask what objection you have, Young Master?"

Xu Qian saw nothing inappropriate about making his demands in front of such a large crowd.

"Where is my poem? I submitted such an excellent work to your restaurant today. By what right did you not choose me? Is this restaurant rigged?! I strongly suspect it!" Xu Qian declared, full of self-righteous indignation.

The moment he opened his mouth, or rather, the moment he stood up, some people in the restaurant recognized him.

After all, the young master’s "confidence" was on a level so far beyond that of an ordinary person, it was enough to make one concede defeat in awe.

Unfortunately for him, the shopkeeper of Wangxian Building was singularly focused on the art of making money and cared nothing for the gatherings of Shangjing’s literati. Otherwise, he would have been on high alert the moment Xu Qian appeared, rather than trying to placate him with polite words as he was now.

"And the name of your masterpiece is...?" Ma Ji asked.

Xu Qian: "’Red Flower Red’!"

He boomed out the title of his poem.

The words had barely left Xu Qian’s lips when someone in the main hall, unable to contain themselves for even a second, let out a loud SNORT of laughter.

Standing in the center of the first floor, Ma Ji’s eye began to twitch the moment he heard the wealthy-looking young master announce the title of his poem.

He was no man of letters and had no particular talent for literary appraisal. That didn’t mean, however, that he couldn’t tell good from bad—especially when it was *this* obviously bad.

’What in the world was ’Red Flower Red’?’

At that moment, hearing Xu Qian’s booming and utterly confident declaration of "Red Flower Red," Ming Lingyi couldn’t hold back either. She joined the rest of the patrons in Wangxian Building and laughed out loud.

’Now I’m starting to understand what Zhang Zhidong meant when he said, "The man truly has zero self-awareness."’

’This man... he’s really one of a kind.’

Li Yan, on the other hand, put a hand to his forehead. He couldn’t bear to listen anymore.

A wave of roaring laughter also swept through Wangxian Building.

The patrons could laugh it off, but Ma Ji, as the shopkeeper of Wangxian Building, could not.

’He looked at Xu Qian, and for a split second, he suspected this young master was a plant, a spy sent by Ming Lingyi.’

’Otherwise, just listen to that completely clueless declaration! Is this reasonable? Would any normal person be so blind as to not see the massive gulf between his own work and everyone else’s?’