themonasnovels Chapter 96 Zhuang Mohan said it was plagiarism?
Chapter 96 Zhuang Mohan said it was plagiarism?
Ye Tian did not memorize the entire "Short Song Ballad"; he cleverly added the lines "I have guests, playing the zither and blowing the sheng" after the first two lines.
He stopped, smiled slightly, and said, "What I say next might be too sentimental and inappropriate for the joyous occasion of today's feast."
That's enough for now. My humble work is probably quite laughable.
What he was reciting was Cao Cao's famous poem "Short Song Ballad," which has been passed down through the ages! He only omitted the last few lines, such as "The moon is bright and the stars are few; crows and magpies fly south. Circling the tree thrice, on which branch can they perch?"
And lines like "Mountains are never too high, seas are never too deep. The Duke of Zhou spat out his food to welcome guests, and the world turned to him," which better reveal the ambition and political aspirations of a powerful ruler, only selected the first half to express the sentiment of the brevity of life, the importance of seizing the day, and the thirst for wise men. This was appropriate to the occasion without being too blatant.
However, even with just these few lines, the lofty artistic conception, the concise diction, and the profound emotion are enough to amaze everyone!
For a moment, the entire hall fell silent.
Both the officials of the Qing Kingdom and the envoys of the Northern Qi were completely awestruck by the poem's imagery and literary talent! They had never heard such grand and majestic verses, yet with a touch of desolation and tragedy! In particular, the lines "Facing the wine, let us sing; how short is life? Like morning dew, the days gone by are many" fully expressed the sentiment that life is short and time waits for no one, prompting deep reflection.
"Excellent! Excellent poem! What a wonderful line, 'Let us drink and sing, for how short is life!'"
"Like morning dew, the days pass by in fleeting bliss—this sentiment is truly a timeless masterpiece!"
"His Highness the Prince of Qin is not only a peerless martial artist, but also possesses such extraordinary literary talent! It is truly a great fortune for Daqing!"
After a brief silence, thunderous cheers and exclamations erupted in the hall! Everyone looked at Ye Tian with eyes that seemed to regard him as a monster, their hearts filled with indescribable shock.
A grandmaster at the age of fourteen is already a rare feat! And now, he can even compose a poem in seven steps, creating such a timeless masterpiece! This is simply the reincarnation of the God of Literature and the possession of the God of War!
Ye Tian's exceptional talent was once again deeply imprinted in everyone's hearts at this moment!
················
When Ye Tian uttered those lines, "Facing the wine, let us sing; how short is life!", everyone in the Golden Hall, from the officials of the Qing Kingdom to the envoys of the Northern Qi, was awestruck by the lofty imagery and the poignant power of his writing. After a brief silence, thunderous cheers and exclamations erupted. The gazes of the crowd towards Ye Tian were filled with awe and disbelief. A Grandmaster at fourteen was already unprecedented; now, to compose a poem in seven steps and create such timeless lines—this was simply a prodigy among prodigies!
Emperor Qing sat high on his dragon throne, a polite smile on his face, seemingly proud of having such a "prodigy." He slowly turned his head, his gaze fixed on the chief envoy of the Northern Qi delegation, the great Confucian scholar Zhuang Mohan, and asked in a gentle voice, "Mr. Zhuang is a great Confucian scholar of our time, learned in both heaven and man, and has appraised countless poems. I wonder what you think of the poem my son just composed on the spur of the moment? Does it meet your standards?"
All eyes instantly focused on Zhuang Mohan.
Zhuang Mohan sat upright at the table, his face calm and expressionless. Throughout his life, he had witnessed countless such scenes at various court banquets and had commented on countless brilliant poems. He slowly put down his jade chopsticks, picked up a glistening peanut from the dish in front of him, put it in his mouth, and chewed it carefully, as if savoring some exquisite delicacy, or perhaps weighing his next words.
Among the crowd present, perhaps only he, the great Confucian scholar, and a few other old ministers who were truly proficient in music and poetry could vaguely hear that in the flow of the poem Ye Tian had just recited, there seemed to be a slight, unnatural pause, as if he was still not satisfied or had deliberately omitted certain parts.
After swallowing the peanuts, Zhuang Mohan spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice aged yet full of vigor: "Your Majesty flatters me. I have only studied for a few more years." He paused, then turned his gaze to Ye Tian, a complex and unfathomable light flashing in his eyes, as if there was admiration mixed with regret.
"Your Highness, this poem," Zhuang Mohan said softly, his tone calm, "is indeed a fine poem. In my life, I have appraised countless poems, and this one is extraordinary from the first line. The opening line, 'Let us drink and sing, how short is life? Like morning dew, the days gone by are many,' already reveals a desolate yet profound spirit, prompting deep thought and reflection."
He nodded slightly and continued, "Although, if I may presume to say, this poem seems to have a break in its flow of ideas, failing to achieve its full potential, as if it were an unfinished piece. But its flaws do not detract from its merits. Its strength lies in its style and artistic conception, making it a masterpiece."
At this point, Zhuang Mohan changed the subject, his tone tinged with emotion: "Poetry prioritizes meaning, but also quality. Your Highness's poem is lofty in its imagery, outstanding in its style, and every word is precious; it is truly a rare gem. It's unexpected that Nanqing, with its flourishing literary scene, could produce such a brilliant young talent as Your Highness. This is truly a cause for celebration, and it has broadened my horizons considerably."
His words, in the first half, pointed out the flaw of "discontinuity in meaning" in the poem, but in the second half, he was full of praise, leaving people puzzled and wondering what he was really up to.
Just then, a young official from the Qing Kingdom, Guo Baokun, son of Guo Youzhi, the Minister of Rites, could not contain his excitement. He stood up, his face flushed, and exclaimed loudly, "Master Zhuang is absolutely right! In my humble opinion, His Highness Prince Qin's poem is simply unprecedented and unparalleled—a stroke of genius! It is beyond the reach of us mere mortals! With such a poem, who in the world would dare to presume to claim poetic talent!"
Guo Baokun's flattery was deafening, but it also seemed a bit like the fearlessness of the ignorant.
Upon hearing this, Zhuang Mohan's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, followed by a long sigh. He slowly stood up, first shaking his head slightly at Guo Baokun to indicate that he was exaggerating, then turning to Emperor Qing, bowing deeply, his expression carrying an unprecedented solemnity and a hint of undisguised heartache.
"Your Majesty," Zhuang Mohan's voice was tinged with sorrow, "Lord Guo was too kind in his praise. There is no first place in poetry, but there is no second place in literature. How dare I say that there is no one before or after me? As an envoy of the Great Qi, representing the face of the Northern Qi, I did not wish to say too much in such a joyous and harmonious occasion, lest I damage the friendship between our two countries with inappropriate words, and I would not want to disturb Your Majesty and His Highness Prince Qin's enjoyment."
He paused, his tone growing increasingly somber: "However, having spent my entire life immersed in scholarship, I still hold a certain reverence for all writing in the world, regarding it as sacred. Some words are stuck in my throat. Today, having had the privilege of hearing His Highness Prince Qin's 'masterpiece,' and seeing such high praise from all of you gentlemen, if I were to continue concealing what I know, I would truly be failing the sages of the past, failing the millennia-old tradition of 'writing,' and even more so, failing my own integrity and conscience as a scholar!"
These words caused an uproar throughout the hall! Everyone sensed something amiss in Zhuang Mohan's words. Could it be that there was some hidden story behind this poem?
The warm smile on Emperor Qing's face gradually faded, replaced by a perfectly measured calm and majesty. He knew the real drama was about to unfold; the pawns he had arranged were finally about to play their part.
He calmly raised his hand, signaling everyone to be quiet, and then said gently to Zhuang Mohan, "Hehe, Mr. Zhuang is a literary giant of our time, with profound knowledge and noble character, whom I have always respected. If you have any valuable words of advice, please feel free to speak them. I, the entire court, and the Prince of Qin are all willing to listen attentively. Today is both a celebratory banquet and a literary gathering, a time for free expression and diverse perspectives."
Emperor Qing's words were eloquent and impeccable, demonstrating the emperor's magnanimity while elevating Zhuang Mohan to a position where he could not be ignored, thus paving the way for the "good show" to come.
·············
The exchange between Emperor Qing and Zhuang Mohan, brimming with subtle wit, made the atmosphere in the hall increasingly delicate. Everyone held their breath, awaiting Zhuang Mohan's next "profound discourse," a renowned scholar from Northern Qi.
Encouraged by Emperor Qing's "speak freely," Zhuang Mohan sighed slightly, his face revealing a complex expression of sorrow and regret. His gaze swept across the entire room, finally settling on Ye Tian.
"Your Highness, Prince Qin," Zhuang Mohan began slowly, his voice slightly hoarse, "Just now, His Majesty and everyone praised Your Highness's 'Short Song Ballad' for its grandeur and profound meaning, and I share the same sentiment. However, I dare to ask Your Highness another question."
Ye Tian remained calm and composed, saying indifferently, "Please speak, Master Zhuang."
Zhuang Mohan nodded, and then, as if no one else was around, he stood with his hands behind his back and began to recite aloud in a melodious and melodious tone, full of vicissitudes:
"The wind is fierce, the sky is high, and the monkeys howl mournfully; the islet is clear, the sand is white, and the birds fly back."
"The boundless forest sheds its leaves with a rustling sound; the endless Yangtze River rolls on and on."
He only recited these four lines before stopping, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes. He then turned to Ye Tian and asked:
"Your Highness, I overheard you writing these four lines."
It evokes a sense of boundless grandeur and a majestic atmosphere; truly a masterpiece rarely found throughout the ages.
What does Your Highness think of these four lines?
Upon hearing this, Ye Tian's heart stirred slightly.
These four lines are the opening lines of Du Fu's famous seven-character regulated poem "Ascending the Heights"!
It was naturally the poem by Du Fu that he had previously plagiarized...