I have been a saint in the world for three thousand years

In private room number seven, the young master of the Wang family saw Qin Jue so moved, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but rise up, outlining a smug smile.

There was a smug look on his face, as if he had expected this scene.

"Miss Qin Jue really has a keen eye for talent."

He spoke leisurely, with a hint of pride in his voice.

"This zither is the legendary long-lost Youhuangqingming."

As the words fell, two servants in blue clothes carefully carried the guzheng onto the stage.

The guzheng exudes an ancient and mysterious atmosphere, as if carrying thousands of years of time and stories.

At this moment, Qin Jue could no longer suppress his inner excitement and walked out from behind the screen.

Her figure is thin and slender, like a green bamboo standing proudly in the wind, both tough and elegant.

Her eyebrows are like distant mountains, cold and elegant, and when they are slightly frowned, they seem to carry a myriad of thoughts.

His eyes were like rippling autumn water, deep and bright, revealing a hint of sadness inadvertently.

It’s a pity that Qin Jue’s face is covered by a veil, making it impossible for people to see her full appearance, which adds a bit of mystery and reverie.

Despite this, her temperament and grace have already amazed everyone present.

Qin Jue walked quickly to the guzheng, stretched out his slender fingers and gently stroked each string of the guzheng.

But soon, Qin Jue suppressed the excitement in his heart.

She bowed in the direction of private room number seven and asked carefully.

"Sir, is this Youhuang Qingming really given to me?"

Young Master Wang smiled cheerfully: "A gentleman's word is as good as his bond. Miss Qin Jue, there is no need to be polite."

Upon hearing this, Qin Jue's eyes flashed with excitement that was beyond words.

"In that case, thank you very much for your help!"

Not long after Qin Jue walked back behind the screen, her personal maid went upstairs and knocked on the door of private room number seven.

After a while, the laughter of the young master of the Wang family was heard.

"Everyone, I will go ahead."

Everyone who saw this showed envy, envious of the young master of the Wang family for winning the beauty.

And tonight, Qin Jue not only earned more money than an ordinary person could earn in his entire life, but also took the long-lost Youhuang Qingming into his pocket.

After seeing this scene, everyone present couldn't help but feel a little impulsive and began to fantasize that they could also be favored by the beauty and have a kiss with her.

At this time, Miss Hongxiao appeared on the stage again.

After he said a series of nice words, the wealthy young men present were very pleased and they lavishly distributed a wave of silver bills.

Tonight alone, Fengming Garden might be able to earn hundreds of thousands of taels of silver, making it a veritable den of money.

For a moment, the field was filled with an atmosphere of extravagance and waste.

The lewd music from below kept coming, even in the private room on the second floor, the sound was lingering and seductive.

Fang Yan was leaning on the Arhat chair, holding two beautiful women in his arms.

Their dexterity and skillful movements made Fang Yan look very satisfied.

A maid stood aside, her face full of grievance and confusion.

"Sir, are you unhappy because I didn't serve you well enough?"

Yan Xiu stood by the window, holding a storybook in his hand and reading it intently, as if the noise around him had nothing to do with him and seemed out of place.

Others come to the brothel either to drink tea and discuss philosophy, or to have in-depth exchanges with the girls they like and spend a wonderful night together.

But Yan Xiu had no interest in these things and just read the book in his hand.

Yan Xiu smiled faintly when he heard this.

It's not that he was not interested in listening to music in brothels, but after so many years of practicing asceticism in Dayuan Mountain, these things really couldn't arouse his nerves.

The maid suddenly came up behind Yan Xiu, gently rubbed his shoulders with her soft hands, and her breath was as sweet as orchid.

"Sir, what do you think of this servant?"

In the eyes of this maid, Yan Xiu is different from other rich young men like Fang Yan.

Not only does he not have an air of superiority, he also seems very easy to talk to.

Since he was able to come to this private room, it indirectly showed that his status must be not low.

If I can seize this opportunity, my success will be just around the corner.

Just as the maid was immersed in her own fantasy, the scene suddenly became restless.

Yan Xiu lowered his eyes and looked down.

I saw that the calligraphy and paintings that originally decorated the walls were no longer there, and instead rice paper was hung, waiting for poetic embellishment.

Then Miss Hongxiao came on stage again, smiling.

"My dear gentlemen, which gentleman will lead the poetry gathering today?"

As she spoke, her eyes turned to the screen on the stage.

Everyone looked in the direction of the voice and discovered that a beautiful figure had appeared behind the screen at some point.

It goes without saying that the person sitting behind the screen must be the courtesan.

Everyone then came to their senses and started talking about it, wanting to show off their skills at this poetry meeting and win the favor of the courtesan.

"This young master will come first!"

Not long after Hong Xiao finished speaking, a loud voice rang out.

The man was carrying a pot of fine wine and reeking of alcohol. He staggered to the wall and started writing with a brush.

And everyone's eyes on the field were focused on him.

After writing the last word, the man raised his head proudly and drank the remaining wine in the pot.

"The bright moon in the sky shines on the pavilion, its clear light washes away the dust like water.

The clouds and fog have cleared and the sky is as clear as a mirror; the wind is calm and the waves are peaceful; the water flows naturally.

The fragrance of osmanthus trees makes people intoxicated, and the bright lanterns linger in the night.

The Mid-Autumn Festival is a time for family reunion, and we enjoy the beauty of the moon together."

After he finished reading aloud the poem he had written, he leaned back and fell drunkenly to the ground.

"What a good poem! What a good poem!"

"Who is this person? How could he have such talent?"

A group of people gathered around the drunk man and talked a lot.

Many people also read the poem repeatedly and could not stop praising it.

"But it's a mediocre poem. Although this poem has some artistic conception, the words are plain and lack deep meaning."

Hearing the sound, everyone turned around to look.

The man who spoke was very imposing and walked forward, pushing aside the crowd of onlookers.

His writing moves like a dragon, and every stroke reveals his profound cultural heritage and extraordinary talent.

After everyone finished reading his poem, they burst into exclamations again.

Now that someone had taken the lead, the rest naturally did not want to be outdone. They all picked up their pens and wrote their poems on paper.

For a moment, the field was filled with the strong scent of ink, and the entire space was permeated with this fragrance.

I don’t know how long it took, but most of the rice paper had been used up.

Although these poems have their own merits, they are unable to impress the courtesan sitting behind the screen.

Hong Xiao then turned her gaze to the second floor and said with a charming smile.

"Dear guests on the second floor, do you have any good works to present?"

As soon as these words were spoken, the field suddenly became quiet.

Everyone's eyes were cast towards the private room on the second floor.

After all, the people in the audience are just supporting roles, and the guests in the twelve private rooms are the protagonists of the night.

"In that case, I will show my ugliness."

A voice came from private room number eight.

Then, everyone heard the sound of the pen tip gently moving across the paper. The sound was as clear and pleasant as the gurgling of a stream.

Not long after, a piece of rice paper with wet ink on it floated out from the empty window of the private room like a light butterfly and slowly landed in front of everyone.