In the Northern Song Dynasty, he started by marrying the eighth daughter of the Su family.

"Loushan Pass?" Shen Kuo blinked, thought for a moment, and said, "I do know this place! I passed through here when I traveled with my father before."

"Loushan Pass, also known as Bulang Mountain. I have heard that this place is extremely strategic and a battleground for military strategists. The layered mountains seem to hide endless historical smoke and fire."

Shen Kuo tilted his head slightly, as if recalling the scene he had seen that day: "The mountain peaks on both sides are like swords, piercing the clouds, and a narrow path winds through the middle. It can truly be said that one man can hold the pass against ten thousand men."

Han Zhiman smiled sheepishly and said nothing.

Lu Huiqing shook his head and joked, "Brother Han is probably just being modest."

"Don't be modest. Such talent is not something that comes by chance. It must be because of the good training that Lady Su can write such wonderful words on the spot."

Wang Qian also smiled and said, "Master Han's poem seems to have captured the essence of Loushan Pass, making it a truly moving read. If Master Han has such talent, he still owes his family a lot. I'm afraid even Lady Su would have to write an article comparable to 'The Prince of Teng'."

"Madam Wang, you flatter me. How could I possibly have such talent?" Su Zhen smiled and said, "Alright, alright, which gentleman will write the next poem? I've already chosen the next poetic form."

At this point, Shen Kuo said, "Let me do it; I also have a mountain range I want to write about."

Su Zhen nodded, and then said, "In that case, how about we choose 'Tanpo Huanxi Sha' as the title of our poem?"

"it is good!"

Shen Kuo took the paper and pen and wrote it down in a long and flowing style:

"Emerald shadows sway gently in the wind on the tranquil Sword Ridge, while veils of clouds lightly entwine the ancient pass. Wandering along the secluded path, I seek tales of the past, my thoughts lingering."

Amidst the cuckoo's cry, flowers bloom; willows sway in the mist beside the Jiang Wei Temple. So many legends, etched with the passage of time, their charm boundless.

Su Zhen took the poem and read it aloud. Wang Qian frowned again and said, "Master Han's poems are all full of heroic spirit; while Master Shen's are so delicate and graceful. This kind of delicate and graceful style is really strange."

Su Zhen was also puzzled and asked, "Why do you say that, Madam Wang? Although Jianmen Pass is a strategic military location, it has also had its share of tenderness and complexity over the years."

"Looking at the verdant shadows of Jianling, the clouds swirling around the majestic pass, the secluded paths blooming with flowers, and the willows smoking by the temple, I feel that beneath the backdrop of history, there is not only the raging flames of war, but also a timeless charm and tranquil peace. Every mountain and river has many facets, and one can appreciate its quiet beauty and express its profound sentiments."

Zhang Huaimin nodded slightly: "Brother Shen's poem takes a unique approach beyond the well-known grandeur of the Sword Gate, revealing its subtle and profound meaning, which is refreshing to us."

Wang Qian was still very puzzled and said softly, "But what I want to ask is... not this."

Lu Huiqing was also somewhat puzzled and said, "What does Madam Wang mean? Perhaps we can find out."

"Never mind, never mind, it was just a momentary overthinking. Gentlemen, please don't take it to heart." Wang Qian shook her head and sighed. "Let me write the next poem. I'd like to see what my little bit of writing skills are all about."

“Then let’s play a poem called ‘Butterfly Loves Flowers’ for Lady Wang. It’s tender and beautiful. What do you think?” Su Zhen asked.

"It's impossible."

At this moment, Shen Kuo handed the paper and pen in front of him to Wang Qian. The latter smiled slightly and nodded, pondered for a moment, and then wrote down a poem:

"The willows sway gently in the spring breeze, their fragrance languid; my frail body, broken and frail, wanders alone in search of fragrant grasses. New green shoots are just beginning to emerge, the flowers are not yet old, and swallows fly in pairs, circling between the beams."

Her delicate sleeves fluttered in the wind, who would care? The incense of her heart had burned out, her hidden sorrow buried in a desolate valley. The setting sun and cold mist obscured the distant road, her unspoken longing a bitter ache in her heart.

After listening to Wang Qian's poem "Butterfly Loves Flowers," everyone fell into deep thought. Su Zhen spoke first: "Madam Wang's poem is full of melancholy and sorrow, as if she has some unspeakable secret, making people deeply feel her inner grief."

Lu Huiqing continued, "The lines 'The incense of the heart has faded, and the deep resentment is buried in the desolate valley' and 'Unspoken longing' express the thoughts in one's heart that no one cares about. But who is this longing for?"

This question was clearly a rhetorical one, one that the answer was already known. Wang Qian lowered her head slightly, her face showing a hint of shyness.

"These are just private thoughts, not to be told to outsiders. In the past, I was confined to my room due to illness, and I often sighed at the spring scenery outside the window. Seeing the swallows flying in pairs made me feel even more lonely. My feelings were lingering, but I could only bury them deep in my heart. The taste of it was hard to describe."

Zhang Huaimin sighed softly, "Women in this world are often bound by emotions and find it hard to let go. Lady Wang's poem also expresses that endless longing and sorrow."

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, there was a knock on the door, followed by the servant's voice:

"Esteemed guests, the innkeeper has sent me to bring you pitch-pot and poetry games. If you find them uninteresting, they may serve as a pastime."

As he spoke, the servant went to the window to indicate that no one was outside. Only then did Lü Huiqing get up, go to open the door, and take the pitch-pot game and the poem titles.

After placing the items on the table, Lü Huiqing first closed the ci poem templates and then said, "Is anyone else planning to compose a poem to add to the fun? If not, how about playing some pitch-pot?"

No one objected, so Lü Huiqing placed the pitch-pot on the floor of the room, some distance away from the crowd. Then she took out a bamboo chopstick and pretended to throw it—

The spout is right in the center.

Shen Kuo then asked, "Brother Huiqing, how do you plan to play the pitch-pot game this time?"

Lü Huiqing picked up another chopstick, played with it in her hand, and then said, "They even sent us a poem title. How about this—we take turns throwing arrows into a pot. If we miss, we have to drink tea and then compose a poem."

"But what we write won't be the same as before. Instead, we'll draw a poetic form, and then we'll decide on the embedded characters and rhymes. How about that?"

Han Zhi's eyes lit up, and he suddenly said, "I have a new way to play, which is much more interesting than Brother Huiqing's."

"Tell me about it." Lü Huiqing nodded and put down her chopsticks.

"My game is called Truth or Dare," Han Zhi said with a smile. "We take turns throwing arrows into a pot. If you miss, you have to choose between telling the truth or doing a dare."

"Truth or dare means answering every question and telling the truth. Truth or dare is decided by the person who hits the target in the game of pitch-pot, who has to do something, but it can't be too outrageous."

Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment, then Lü Huiqing laughed and said, "This is much more interesting than writing lyrics!"

Everyone nodded in agreement. Wang Qian then said, "This pitch-pot game is very interesting; why don't I be the first?"

No one objected, so Wang Qian gently picked up the bamboo chopsticks, slightly twisted her wrist, and the chopsticks, as if they had come to life, landed steadily in the pot, eliciting a gasp of amazement. She took a deep breath, aimed at the rim of the pot, and threw it forcefully.

"Madam Wang's cooking is truly superb!" Su Zhen exclaimed sincerely.

Wang Qian smiled slightly and said modestly, "They're just some little tricks, nothing to mention. It's usually boring at home, but I like to play around with them for a while."

The next player to play pitch-pot was Han Zhi, but he had never played it before and was just imitating Wang Qian. The result was predictable: he missed.

"Brother Han proposed a game, but Brother Han himself didn't win it," Lü Huiqing said with a smile.

Su Zhen then said, "Then I will punish you. My lord, please choose truth or dare."