Marrying Wife and Concubine Together: After Rebirth, I Remarried the Scumbag's Father on the Sp

Lin Yiwan's heart sank. She knew that Rong Zhiyu was not as simple as he seemed. She had to keep a close eye on him and not let her son get into unnecessary trouble.

After leaving the academy, Lin Yiwan sat in the carriage, her face cold and stern, her mind replaying her conversation with Rong Zhiyu.

This young man was too composed, too insightful, and too adept at concealing his thoughts. Such a person was either genuinely devoted to his studies or harbored ulterior motives. In any case, she couldn't afford to be careless.

After a moment, she said to the outside of the carriage, "Zi'er, go and thoroughly investigate Rong Zhiyu's information, the more detailed the better!"

Zi'er responded and immediately took the order and left.

Lin Yiwan murmured, "Rong Zhiyu, you'd better not approach my son with any ulterior motives. If you harbor any delusions, I'll peel off your skin!"

Meanwhile, in the back garden of the academy, Zhan Mu watched Lin Yiwan's departing figure and said with some guilt, "Zhiyu, don't take my mother's words to heart. She was just worried about me and didn't mean anything else."

Rong Zhiyu put down his paintbrush, looked in the direction Lin Yiwan had left, a complex light flashing in his eyes before he regained his composure. He smiled at Zhan Mu and said, "Brother Zhan, you are overthinking it. Madam Hou meant well, and I understand."

However, the fleeting emotion deep in his eyes could not be hidden from him.

He clearly saw through Madam Hou's probing and wariness. It seemed he would have to be even more cautious around Zhan Mu from now on. However, some things, once started, could never be stopped. He looked down at the scroll on the stone table, his gaze gradually becoming deep and unfathomable.

They came back too quickly; there are some things we need to get done quickly.

He squeezed his eyes shut to suppress the turmoil within.

He turned to Zhan Mu and said, "Brother Zhan, I heard there's a poetry competition at Mingzhu Tower tonight. Why don't we go and join in the fun? I heard the prize money is quite generous, a full thousand taels of silver!"

Zhan Mu naturally didn't care about a thousand taels of silver, but he understood that Rong Zhiyu needed it.

He was an orphan, and everything he wore and used was provided by the academy.

Someone wanted to help him because of his talent, but he refused, wanting only to be self-reliant. Such integrity is hard not to admire.

He quickly agreed, "Okay, I'll go with you!"

As dusk settles and the city lights begin to twinkle, the hustle and bustle of the day gradually fades away. Only the Mingzhu Tower in the south of the city remains, bustling with activity and brightly lit as if it were daytime.

The gilded lanterns hanging in front of the building swayed in the wind, reflecting the five large characters "Mingzhu Poetry Competition" on the lintel, making them shine brightly. Talented men and beautiful women came and went in an endless stream, all for the generous prize of one thousand taels of silver.

Rong Zhiyu and Zhan Mu stepped into the building side by side and were immediately overwhelmed by the lively scene inside.

The lobby on the first floor was already packed. On each table were writing brushes, ink, paper and inkstones. The scholars, dressed in blue robes and brocade robes, were either discussing in hushed tones or composing with their eyes closed, their brows all bearing a hint of determination.

Behind the carved window lattice of the private room on the second floor, the light gauze swayed from time to time, and the graceful figure of a woman could be vaguely seen. Occasionally, a few soft exclamations of praise could be heard, which added to the elegance.

"It seems quite a few talented people have come today." Zhan Mu glanced at the scene in the hall, a faint smile playing on his lips. He turned to Rong Zhiyu beside him and asked, "Zhiyu, are you confident?"

Rong Zhiyu, dressed in a faded blue cloth robe, appeared exceptionally simple compared to the scholars in their fine clothes around him. Yet, he stood tall and straight, with a gentle sharpness hidden between his brows. Upon hearing this, he simply smiled faintly and glanced at everyone in the hall: "Just do your best."

He knew in his heart that this thousand taels of silver would not only relieve his current predicament, but also provide him with a boost for what he was going to do next. He was determined to win this first prize today.

As soon as the two found an empty seat in a corner, a waiter brought over tea and snacks and said with a smile, "Are you two gentlemen here to participate in the poetry competition? Today's examiner is Lord Li from the Hanlin Academy. His judgment is very fair. If you can win first place, you will not only receive a thousand taels of silver, but you will also receive Lord Li's personal comments, which will also enhance your reputation in the literary world in the future!"

Rong Zhiyu nodded in thanks, his fingertips gently tracing the rim of his teacup, his gaze fixed on the high platform in the center of the hall. A short while later, a clear, crisp sound of gongs and drums rang out, and the hall instantly fell silent.

An elderly man in a scarlet official robe, with white hair and beard, slowly walked up to the high platform. He was none other than Lord Li from the Hanlin Academy.

His majestic gaze swept over the crowd as he announced in a loud voice, "Today's poetry competition at Mingzhu Tower will be held using the three characters 'moon,' 'wine,' and 'autumn' as the core imagery, and will consist of three rounds. In the first round, topics will be randomly drawn, and players will compete in pairs, with the winners advancing. In the second round, players will compose poems within a time limit, with the winners being judged by their imagery. In the final round, I will present the first line of a couplet, and whoever can provide the most exquisite second line will be the winner of today's prize, and will be awarded one thousand taels of silver immediately!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a low commotion arose in the hall, and the scholars all had eager expressions on their faces.

Rong Zhiyu remained calm, quietly awaiting the start of the first round of the competition. Soon, the staff came forward with bamboo sticks bearing numbers. Rong Zhiyu randomly drew one; the stick was engraved with the words "Number Seven".

The opponent in the first round was a young gentleman dressed in brocade robes with a jade pendant hanging from his waist. He had an arrogant expression and was obviously of noble birth. He looked Rong Zhiyu up and down, and seeing that he was dressed simply, a hint of disdain flashed in his eyes. He snorted and said, "I didn't expect that anyone would dare to participate in the poetry competition these days. Aren't they afraid of losing face?"

Rong Zhiyu ignored his provocation and simply said, "A poetry competition is about talent, not attire. Why must you be so concerned with appearances, young master?"

The young man in the brocade robe was taken aback, his face darkening slightly. Just as he was about to retort, he heard Lord Li announce loudly, "The first round of the competition begins. Number seven and number twenty-three will face off, composing a seven-character quatrain on the theme of 'moon,' with a time limit of one incense stick!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the waiter immediately brought them writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones.

The young man in the brocade robe said no more, picked up his brush and began to write, the tip of the brush gliding across the rice paper, leaving line after line of characters. Rong Zhiyu closed his eyes and pondered for a moment, the bright moon in the night sky of the capital flashing through his mind, and recalling the days when he studied hard in the academy, he already had a draft in mind.

He slowly opened his eyes, picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and with a light turn of his wrist, the ink flowed smoothly onto the rice paper.

In no time at all, a quatrain was written: "The clear moonlight shines on the late night, the jade palace is dustless and the guest is cold. Do not say that my friend is far away, a window of bright moonlight brings peace to my heart."

The time it takes for an incense stick to burn quickly passed, and the two men simultaneously put down their pens. The waiter presented the poems to Lord Li on the high platform.

The adult carefully examined the two poems. He first looked at the work of the young man in brocade robes and nodded slightly. Then his gaze fell on Rong Zhiyu's poem, and a hint of appreciation gradually flashed in his eyes.