620 The Jade Epiphyllum Blooms and Dies, The Successor of the Sword Pavilion Arrives (2)

Yunduan pouted and nodded.

Bai Wuhen walked forward with a smile and pulled Yunjin out of the room.

“How can such a beauty hide here? Are those guys blind?” Bai Wuhen’s voice stunned Yunjin, and Yunduan chuckled.

When the screen returned to the deck of the immortal ship, the three beautiful women who looked like fairies in the sky made countless people’s hearts skip a beat.

“So beautiful…”

“Is this the Fairy Boat Duo?”

“Such beauties, immortal ship, immortal ship, truly…”

“As graceful swans, beautiful beyond compare.”

…

Bai Wuhen and Yunjin appeared on the immortal ship. They read the essays written by the Great Confucian and recited in a low voice. Their voices were melodious as they smiled and handed over brushes and papers.

Only by becoming a Great Confucian will one have such privileges, right?

Looking at the beautiful faces on the screen, countless people set themselves a goal.

Become a Great Confucian, board the Immortal Ship.

“Eh, this Yong Prefecture student, Liu Yong’s poetry is not bad,” Yan Zhenqing, who had been quiet, suddenly said.

The light screen instantly fell, reflecting the poem in his hand.

‘The cold cicadas are mournful, singing to the long-winded evening song, the green willows, who are you sincerely complaining to?’

‘The flying bird is still happy, coming together and parting ways with the clouds, a thousand miles of misty waves, lend me some wine.’

…

On the immortal ship, several Confucians turned their heads and commented softly.

The scene on the light screen had already turned to a pleasure boat. A young man in a green robe with a patch on his lapel was sitting solemnly.

Beside him, a neatly folded Confucian robe and a cloth bag were placed together.

“As a poor student, I can’t bear to see my clothes stained with ink. It’s better to wear old green robes.

“The invitation to the pleasure boat was given to me by Young Master Murong Hui. I don’t dare to use all the stationery for myself.”

In the image, Liu Yong whispered, unaware that his words were heard by everyone on the river.

At this moment, the eyes of a colorful-robed woman not far from him were filled with affection.

To the sad, fallen women of the mortal world, wealth and glory were not what they coveted. Instead, they loved the poor and resolute Confucianists.

Only by leaving a poem on the Yongding River could one be considered a real man!

“This child is a talent that can be nurtured.”

A voice sounded from the immortal ship.

Mr. Green Vine!

On the screen, Liu Yong, who was originally calm, tilted his body and knocked over the ink on the small table, staining his moon-white clothes.

On the screen, Liu Yong was excited and heartbroken. He looked uneasy on the screen.

It was enviable.

On the deck of the immortal ship, many Confucians looked up with nostalgia on their faces.

“Back then, I was the same…”

Inexperienced.

But it was beautiful.

The scene changed. On a pleasure boat under the setting sun, a young girl in green clothes was running quickly with sweat on her forehead.

As she panted slightly, her fair face carried a trace of anxiety and shyness.

“Wu, Mr. Wu, quickly write your poem for me. I’ll bring it to the immortal ship.”

The girl ran to Wu Tianzhen, who was sitting in front of a small table, and spoke in a crisp voice.

In the image, Wu Tianzhen looked up and smiled. Then he wiped the girl’s sweat with his sleeve.

“Mr. Wu, the Jade Epiphyllum is about to bloom. Hurry up and write the poem!”

The young girl bit her lip. Her anxious appearance was reflected on the light screen, looking pretty and cute.

Wu Tianzhen shook his head with a smile and said softly, “You are my poem…”

With just this sentence, the shyness and joy on the girl’s face intertwined like a flower blooming.

When the scene faded, a jade-white epiphyllum slowly bloomed.

The dream rose, and the dream fell.

The Jade Epiphyllum bloomed, as if all the beauty in the world had gathered.

However, the flower only bloomed for a short period of time. Under everyone’s regretful gazes, the petals slowly withered.

It had only been a hundred breaths.

The fleeting beauty made the entire river fall silent.

Princess Yunjin turned around and looked at the river in front of her. She said in a low voice, “If there are flowers that can be plucked, they must be plucked. Don’t wait till they wilt…”

Yunduan frowned slightly. After pondering for a moment, she said in a clear voice, “There are talents in every generation. Each of them has been outstanding for hundreds of years!”

With these two sentences, no one on the immortal ship, the pleasure boat, or the river bank could speak.

Han Muye chuckled and only took the ink brush. He wrote two lines of poetry on the paper in front of him.

The poem was reflected on the light screen of the withered epiphyllum flower and remained there for a long time.

‘It’s easy to come up with something on paper. You must know that you have to do it.’

For a moment, countless Confucianists silently recited these lines, their hearts surging.

Lightning surged in the void, and endless streams of light flew.

The purple Qi of the People’s Will and the golden Great Spirit illuminated the river and stole the light of the setting sun.

A poem that had been passed down for generations!

The Emperor’s Poem!

A poem that encouraged learning and led the way to the righteous path!

Whether it was on the immortal ship, on the pleasure boats, or on the riverbank, everyone lowered their heads and wrote down the poem.

Chen Ru, who was standing not far away, had a smile on his face.

How many authentic works were there!

Han Muye, who had written the poem, took the page away and opened another book.

‘The intention of the opening is not bad. Your literary talent is outstanding.’

‘I suggest that you write a poem. You can look at the mountains and express your emotions.’

Only by making an effort and practicing would he be able to advance.

Those poems that had been passed down through the generations were nothing. The Great Spirit that filled the sky was nothing. The emotions of countless people were nothing. Only by evaluating and teaching could one be considered a Great Confucian!

At this moment, countless people understood the word ‘Confucianism’.

Confucianism was what people needed.

It wasn’t that poem that shook the Imperial City. It was Confucianism that had been passed down for 3,000 years. It was the Great Dao that enlightened thousands of ways and made the literary path prosper for thousands of years!

On the deck, looking at Han Muye, who was commenting with his head lowered in the light screen, Xu Wei spoke softly.

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