In a Fantasy World as Cannon Fodder, I Got Entangled with the Heroine - Chapter 60

Chapter 60: Two Poems That Stunned Everyone

Translation by: Weebsread👹

Qin Jingtong’s expression darkened the instant he heard those words.

How could a disciple he’d personally instructed behave so disrespectfully?

“Tong Wenxuan, since you’re so confident, why don’t you show us what you’ve got?” Qin Jingtong fixed him with a calm gaze, though a subtle edge crept into his voice.

Tong Wenxuan offered a faint smile. “Of course, Sect Master. Please, take a look.” He presented his poem with a flourish.

Qin Jingtong read over the lines, nodding in approval. “Not bad. Not bad at all! Tong Wenxuan, your poetry has truly improved.”

“Thank you for the praise, Sect Master!” Tong Wenxuan cupped his hands in thanks. He shot a sidelong glance at Jiang Qian. “Still not done? Don’t tell me you’re already stuck.”

Moments passed—

Jiang Qian at last set his brush aside, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’m finished. Would you care to take a look?” He handed his poems to Qin Jingtong.

Qin Jingtong took the pages—then looked up, surprised. “You wrote two poems?”

Jiang Qian frowned in mild confusion. “Weren’t we supposed to? One about war, one about homesickness. Wasn’t that the assignment? Did I get it wrong?”

“What the—? We sweated blood just to get one done, and he finished two without breaking a sweat!”

“Is this… the difference between people?”

“I could cry—how can he be so much better than us?”

The room lapsed into stunned silence as everyone realized Jiang Qian had produced not one, but two poems in the time allotted.

First came shock, then envy.

Tong Wenxuan fared no better. When he heard Jiang Qian had penned two poems, his lips twitched, but he forced a scoff, “Hmph, two poems? I bet they’re nothing but empty scribbles.”

Two poems—could they really be as poor as Tong Wenxuan claimed?

But as Qin Jingtong read, that notion was swiftly, completely overturned.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!

Both poems were flawless, but the one on war was especially stirring!

He wrote these in such a short time?

Qin Jingtong, unable to contain his excitement, practically teleported to Jiang Qian’s side. “Jiang Qian, did you really compose both of these just now?”

“More or less,” Jiang Qian replied, nonchalant.

After all, none of them knew the original authors.

Hearing his answer, Qin Jingtong grew even more earnest. “Then join us as a guest scholar at Heavenly Fragrance Academy!”

Jiang Qian shook his head. “No thanks. I’m lazy enough already—just being Azure Mountain Sect’s Chief Disciple is exhausting.”

“Guest scholar? Could Jiang Qian’s poems really be that incredible?”

“Obviously! If they weren’t, would Sect Master Qin have extended such an invitation?”

“Now I’m dying of curiosity—what are those two poems?”

Qin Jingtong sighed when Jiang Qian declined. “Very well. I won’t press you.”

At that moment—

Tong Wenxuan, sensing defeat, quickly spoke: “Sect Master, perhaps we can hear Jiang Qian’s poems for ourselves?”

“Of course!” Qin Jingtong agreed at once.

“The first is ‘Thoughts on a Quiet Night’ (Jìng Yè Sī):

‘Before my bed, the bright moonlight—

I suspect it is frost upon the ground…’”

“The second, ‘Song of Breaking the Battle Formation’ (Pò Zhèn Zǐ):

‘By lamplight, drunk, I watch my sword;

In dreams, I hear war horns across the camps…’”

The first poem—its aching homesickness—made every heart in the room tighten.

The second conjured, with a single breath, the vivid chaos of the battlefield!

That final line—“Alas, my hair is white”—left them in silent mourning for the war-hardened general within the verses.

“Incredible! ‘Thoughts on a Quiet Night,’ ‘Song of Breaking the Battle Formation,’ even ‘Phoenix Hairpin’—Young Master Jiang is truly a genius!”

“That’s right! Any one of these poems would be a milestone for me, yet he writes them so easily!”

“Didn’t Tong Wenxuan just mock Young Master Jiang? Where did he get the nerve?”

“As the saying goes: ‘The ignorant are fearless!’”

Tong Wenxuan, hearing both poems, recognized his absolute defeat.

He sneaked a glance at Jiang Qian—only to realize Jiang Qian hadn’t even spared him a look the whole time.

So that’s what I am… just a clown making a fool of myself.

Tong Wenxuan slunk back to his seat, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.

Qin Jingtong watched this and quietly shook his head.

Tong Wenxuan truly had a gift—for both the sword and the brush. Unfortunately, his arrogance always made him look down on others. Perhaps this would teach him some humility.

Now that his part was done, Jiang Qian retreated to his seat.

Immediately, Situ Yahan slid over, eyes twinkling. “Young Master Jiang, you never fail to amaze me with your talent!”

She leaned in closer, teasing, “Since you’re so remarkable, why not compose a poem for me too?”

Jiang Qian shook his head with a helpless smile. “Miss Si Tu, I’m not some legendary genius. How could I just whip up a poem on the spot? Wouldn’t that be making things hard for me?”

Situ Yahan grinned, undeterred. “Take your time. I’m looking forward to it, Young Master Jiang!” With that, she turned away, glancing toward Qin Jingtong as if nothing had happened.

I’ve already turned her down so plainly, Jiang Qian thought, but she’s still so persistent? I never realized she was this shameless!

He stole a glance at Situ Yahan, then looked away.

…

By afternoon, the poetry gathering in the bamboo grove drew to a close.

Aside from the heated contest at the start, the rest was just Qin Jingtong waxing lyrical with his scholarly lectures.

Jiang Qian left the bamboo grove, muttering to himself, “What a waste of a morning. At least it’s finally over.”

As he spoke, he reached Hu Murui’s door. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door swung open.

“Big Brother Jiang, you’re finally back! Here—do you like it?” Hu Murui handed him a wooden token, eyes bright with anticipation.

Jiang Qian took it and saw his name carefully etched onto the surface. “Thank you. I really do like it!”

He tucked the token safely into his robe.

Seeing this, Hu Murui beamed. “Heehee, as long as you like it!”

Just then, Hu Zhuang arrived, leading a young man with him. “I heard you’re getting ready to leave? Here, a little something from your cousin.”

“Dongfang Ke, bring over the items.”

“Yes, Senior Brother!” Dongfang Ke stepped forward and handed several bottles of pills to Hu Murui and Jiang Qian.

Hu Murui accepted the bottles and bowed politely. “Thank you, Cousin!”

Dongfang Ke?! What’s he doing here?

Jiang Qian stared at Dongfang Ke in surprise.