Chương 625: Civil and military officials composed poems

Zhang Fei secretly tugged at Guan Yu's sleeve and groaned softly, his voice barely audible:

"Second brother, what should I do? I can't write poetry at all! I can't even recognize all the characters! Don't call on me later, it'll be too embarrassing. I don't even understand rhymes."

Guan Yu stroked his beard and said calmly, with an air of composure:

"What are you afraid of? If all else fails, just make up a couple of lines, anything that comes to mind. Like, 'The moon is round and round, like a big pancake.'"

Cheng Yaojin looked even more worried and muttered to Yuchi Gong:

"Oh no, oh no! I can handle chopping people up, but writing poetry is going to kill me! It's harder than chopping people up! I should have pretended to have a stomachache and not come. My stomach is starting to hurt now."

Xu Chu scratched the back of his head, looking bewildered, and said:

"I can only write my own name. What's poetry? Can you eat it? Is it delicious?"

Lu Bu crossed his arms and gave a haughty snort:

"A true man should fight on the battlefield; composing poems is a literary pastime, what's the point?"

Zhang Fei retorted, "If you're so capable, then you do it! Stop spouting nonsense! Stop just talking big!"

Lu Bu's face darkened, and he fell silent, turning his head to pretend to admire the moon outside the palace.

Sitting atop the platform, Liu Ce chuckled at the worried expressions on the faces of the military officers, and nodded, saying:

"Alright, Father-in-law's suggestion is excellent. Let's have some fun. It's voluntary, no pressure. There are no restrictions on the theme of the poems; just compose whatever you like. Those who write well will be rewarded by me—brocade, imperial wine, goldware, whatever you choose. Who wants to go first?"

(Since Liu Ce ascended the throne, he promoted a culture of free expression and diverse ideas. Poetry, lyrics, songs, and prose were all freely created...) As soon as he finished speaking, Xun Yu was the first to stand up, cupped his hands in a respectful bow to Liu Ce, and exuded composure.

"I'll offer this as a starting point, and I'll humbly present my first poem. I hope it will be of some humble quality."

He paused for a moment, gazed at the bright moon outside the hall, and slowly recited:

"The bright moon shines over the palace, and its clear light fills Luoyang."

On this night, all under heaven rejoice in peace and prosperity.

When the harvest is plentiful and the people are at peace, the military is strong and the nation is secure.

Let us raise our cups to the osmanthus blossoms, and together wish for the prosperity of the Han Dynasty.

As soon as he finished speaking, a chorus of cheers erupted from below.

"Excellent! What a wonderful 'peace and prosperity throughout the land'! Wenruo's poem is composed and dignified, displaying the bearing of a prime minister! Truly a talent worthy of a king's advisor!"

"Perfectly balanced in parallelism, with a broad and expansive imagery—a fine poem indeed! I admire it!"

Liu Ce smiled and nodded, saying, "Excellent, the tone is calm and composed, which suits Wenruo's style. Ten bolts of Shu brocade and five jars of imperial osmanthus wine will be your reward. Take the best!"

Xun Yu bowed to thank the reward and sat back down.

The second person to stand up was Zhuge Liang. He shook his feather fan, smiled slightly, and said with an elegant air, "I will also compose a poem."

"The bright moon rises over the Tianshan Mountains, its clear light spreading throughout the universe."

When the weather is favorable, the people are content; when the country is prosperous, the soldiers are at ease.

Ten thousand miles are free from war, and thousands of families share smiles.

Let's raise a glass together this Mid-Autumn Festival, what fear is there of a long road ahead?

"Bravo!" The applause from below grew even louder and more enthusiastic than before.

"Kongming's poem is grand in scope, bold in spirit, and shows his embrace of the world!"

"'A world free of war, a thousand families smiling'—how apt! It perfectly captures the spirit of our time!"

Liu Ce commented, his eyes full of praise: "Kongming's poem has a broad vision and a calm and confident air. It was written by someone who is destined for great things. The reward is a Ruyi scepter, ten bolts of Shu brocade, and five jars of fine wine."

Zhuge Liang bowed to thank the reward, gently waved his feather fan, and sat back down with a composed expression.

Following that, Guo Jia, Xun You, Xi Zhicai, Fang Xuanling, and Du Ruhui also stood up and each composed a poem.

Guo Jia's poems are unrestrained and free-spirited, just like the man himself: "Raising a cup to invite the bright moon, a drunken revelry dispels a thousand sorrows."

Xun You's writing is meticulous and precise, with every word carefully considered...

Xi Zhicai's unique and ingenious style was unexpected...

Fang Xuanling's pragmatic and earnest words were all reasonable...

Du Ruhui's decisiveness and efficiency were remarkable...

In short, each has its own merits.

Liu Ce commented on each of the rewards bestowed upon him, and the atmosphere in the hall grew increasingly lively.

The civil officials composed more than a dozen poems, and Liu Ce smiled as he looked at the group of military officers:

"Don't just let the civil officials do it! The military officers should also compose a couple of poems! Stop saying all you know is how to fight; it's the Mid-Autumn Festival, let's join in the fun. Who wants to go first? Don't be a coward!"

The generals pushed and shoved each other, huddling together, and finally, with a collective effort, they pushed Zhang Fei out.

Zhang Fei stood up, his face flushed, scratching the back of his head, his face turning purple with frustration, and after a long while, he managed to utter:

"I... I can't write poetry, brother... all I know is fighting and drinking..."

"It's nothing! Just saying a few words!" Cheng Yaojin cheered from below, slamming his hand on the table.

"Go Yide! I support you! Don't embarrass the military!"

Zhang Fei glared at him, took a deep breath, and loudly recited, his voice booming like thunder:

"The moon is round in the sky, and the mooncakes are sweet on the ground."

"Following His Majesty, every day is like celebrating the New Year!"

"Hahahaha!"

The entire audience burst into laughter, the sound so loud it shook the rafters.

Cheng Yaojin slapped the table and laughed, almost knocking over the wine jar, before collapsing face-first onto the table...

Xu Chu laughed so hard he pounded the ground, his fist creating a crater...

Even the usually serious Guan Yu couldn't help but smirk, and his hand stroking his beard trembled.

Liu Ce was laughing so hard he couldn't stop, tears streaming down his face. He pointed at Zhang Fei and said:

"Yide's poem, though rough in language, is true in meaning! It speaks to my heart! Very well, I'll reward you with ten jars of imperial wine, twenty catties of five-nut mooncakes, so you can eat your fill when you get back! I'll also reward you with two whole roasted lambs!"

Zhang Fei chuckled, scratched his head, and sat down, feeling quite pleased with himself: "Writing poetry isn't difficult at all, it's simpler than fighting a war."

Seeing that Zhang Fei had already made his move, Cheng Yaojin wasn't about to be outdone. He jumped up, patted his chest, and said, his chest thumping loudly:

"I'll sing one too! Your Majesty, listen up! Mine is definitely better than Old Zhang's!"

He cleared his throat and spoke loudly, his voice full of energy:

"The Mid-Autumn Moon is big, I'll beat the enemy."

With a single cannon shot, the barbarians all fell to the ground!

"Good!" The generals cheered, slamming their fists on the table and nearly breaking it.

"Old Cheng is great! That's powerful! Much better than Old Zhang's! That's what poetry is all about!"

"Old Cheng is awesome! One more song!"

Liu Ce smiled and shook his head, pointing at him with his finger: "You, you can't stop talking about war. Fine, I'll reward you with ten jars of imperial wine, plus a newly forged Xuanhua axe, so you won't keep complaining that your old axe is dull and can't cut people."

Cheng Yaojin was overjoyed, taking a large gulp from the wine jar, the wine dripping down his chin.

"Thank you, Your Majesty! I'll try out the new axe tomorrow!"

The generals took turns reciting poems in plain language, such as "The moon is like a pancake, Your Majesty is a wise ruler" and "The mooncake is round and sweet, may the Han Dynasty last ten thousand years." They made everyone laugh non-stop, and the atmosphere in the hall reached a climax, even more lively than the New Year.

Finally, Cao Cao stood up, cupped his hands in a respectful gesture towards Liu Ce, and said in a deep, resonant voice:

"I will also compose a poem."

He gazed at the moonlight outside the hall, holding a wine cup, his voice deep and desolate, as if it came from ancient times:

"Let us drink and sing, for how short is life?"

For example, the morning dew has a lot of suffering.

Generosity should be regarded as generosity, unforgettable worry.

How to relieve worries? Only Dukang.

... (This is not the original version; inconsistencies have been corrected, omitted...) After the poem "Short Song Ballad" was finished, the hall fell silent for a few seconds; even breathing stopped.

The generals who had been making a ruckus just moments before stopped laughing and stared at Cao Cao with expressions of shock, as if they had been struck by lightning.

The civil officials nodded in agreement, their eyes filled with admiration, some already savoring the moment.

No one expected that Cao Cao was not only a good warrior, but also such a good poet.