Shen Hao felt embarrassed for these people just watching from the sidelines. Although he wasn’t skilled at poetry and relied entirely on the help of his ancestors, he could still tell what was good or bad. After all, nine years of compulsory education and all those poetry contests hadn’t gone to waste. So to Shen Hao, Xie Youlin’s two pieces were, at best, just passable—how were people praising them as masterpieces?

What happened to the integrity of scholars?

Don’t they have any shame left?

Honestly, it’s not hard to tell whether a poem is good—the surprise and admiration of the scholars around are pretty obvious signs.

Beside the red lacquer rack stood a white cloth, and nearby sat a famous calligrapher, smiling with a cup in hand. Zhang and Gan explained to Shen Hao that if a truly great poem appeared, it would be written on that cloth and passed down in acclaim.

Between poems and lyrics, the latter were more popular here because lyrics could be sung; if the songstresses used them, they could directly translate into profit, and if they caught on, the fame would skyrocket along with the tune.

"Lord Shen, are you just here to look around? Or is it that you’re out of ideas?"

What had to come would come: several officials from Fengri City Government Office walked over with wine cups, wearing cheerful, friendly smiles.

"Oh? And who might you be?" Shen Hao put on a look of confusion, as if he really didn’t know them.

"..." So how are we supposed to continue? He’s pretending not to know us and keeping his distance—do you really have the nerve to keep chatting him up?

One of them, with a thicker skin, was about to introduce himself and smooth things over, but Shen Hao cut in again.

"Sorry, I’m having a private conversation with friends. Please don’t intrude." Shen Hao waved his hand like shooing flies. He obviously knew what these officials wanted—just trying to provoke him or scope him out a bit.

It’s just a Blue Moon Association—do they really have to take it this seriously?

Shen Hao had always heard that scholars were petty and loved to argue over trivial matters. He found it all pretty dull. Did they really think that winning a courtesan competition over him would be enough to ruin his reputation?

Zhang and Gan, seeing Shen Hao’s look of disdain, had an idea what he was thinking, but still reminded him, "Shen, don’t underestimate those broke bookworms. Nowadays in court, the scholars are arrogant and obsessed with reputation and fame. They’re experts at making rumors out of nothing—nine truths mixed with one lie, and gossip catches like wildfire. Someday you might find it’s become a black mark against you. Be careful not to get trapped."

Shen Hao nodded to show he’d taken note. Still, he wasn’t worried—he just hadn’t made his move yet. After seeing Xie Youlin’s two pieces, he was even more confident.

Each songstress had the same amount of time on stage—a cup of tea’s worth. Afterwards, the audience had a stick of incense’s time to vote with flowers.

As each performance passed, the silver thrown out quickly exceeded two million taels. And there were still eight songstresses left to go.

Among those eight, five were Senior Fifth Grade Gongmo Songstresses and three were Senior Fourth Grade Green Waist Songstresses. Basically, these were the top tier of Fengri City’s Flower House. And the three Senior Fourth Grade Green Waist Songstresses clearly aimed to use this chance to be promoted to First Grade.

Up to now, the mindless money-throwing Shen Hao was watching really kicked into high gear.

The five Gongmo Songstresses each scored an average of three hundred and ninety thousand flower lanterns; the difference between them was less than ten thousand taels up or down.

But before the men—who were already boiling with excitement—could even catch their breath, the next three Green Waist Songstresses who came on stage had an even more terrifying money-attracting capability.

It climbed by the thousands and tens of thousands at a time. The poor suckers in the audience kept fantasizing about using their silver notes to get into the Green Waist ladies’ bedchambers, forgetting they were just lambs for the slaughter. How could they expect a taste of meat unless they got squeezed dry first? Unless you can make the Flower House afraid to refuse you, you might as well just keep dreaming.

Don’t underestimate the power behind a major Flower House. Think about it—even someone with Liao Chengfeng’s status couldn’t take the top spot from Lian Xiang.

"I’d like to dedicate a lyric to Miss Saitama..."

Saitama wasn’t a songstress from Hong’en Hall, but rather the courtesan of another Flower House of similar scale. And the man offering up poetry was one of those four aging Young Masters.

Shen Hao curled his lips, glanced at Zhang and Gan, and joked, "Weren’t you two saying those Young Masters were all here for Lian Xiang? Doesn’t look like it now."

Zhang Qian and Gan Lin chuckled, not feeling at all guilty. They didn’t backtrack, either—they’d just been having Shen Hao on. Who really knew what those four aging Young Masters were after anyway?

Shen Hao didn’t take offense; he’d long gotten used to how Zhang and Gan shot off at the mouth. Still, he had to admit, this Young Master did come up with a pretty good lyric!

Whether in imagery or fit for a female perspective, it was well-crafted—perfect to be adapted as a ditty for the songstresses. He must have put in a lot of work beforehand.

"Excellent lyric!"

"Young Master Liu is impressive!"

"This ’Night Fire Red Flower’ must be the best work tonight so far, right?"

"Best so far!"

"Agreed!"

While praise rang out, the famous calligrapher at the white cloth set down his cup, stood up, and began writing with a flourish. In a few passes of the brush, the fine piece of work appeared for all to see.

When a poem or lyric is presented, the Time Fragrance is temporarily extinguished and only lit up again after judgment is passed. Some energy is lost, but that’s how things have always worked.

No doubt, this ’Night Fire Red Flower’ from the aging Young Master was worth a Blue Moon Flower Lantern.

Don’t underestimate a single Blue Moon Flower Lantern. Among the three remaining Green Waist Songstresses, their popularity was almost identical. Even one more Red Flower Lantern, worth just a thousand taels, could determine the final outcome, never mind a ten-thousand-tael Blue Moon Flower Lantern.

The four aging Young Masters then took turns, all aiming for Saitama. And they were steady—offering six lyrics, two of which made the Ink List, and three were half-approved by the crowd. In one move, Saitama outpaced the top Green Waist Songstress before her. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Five hundred sixty thousand taels!

Zhang and Gan clicked their tongues, privately thinking that even as Deputy Thousand Households Officers, they couldn’t out-earn a few songstresses. That was a little infuriating, honestly.

In past years, the courtesan would get around five hundred thousand flower lanterns, but Saitama had already hit five hundred sixty thousand—pretty much locking up this year’s courtesan title. On stage, Saitama was casting alluring glances at the second-floor Young Masters.

"That’s it, it’s over. Lian Xiang probably has no shot this time."

Even though Lian Xiang was yet to appear as the final act, Zhang and Gan, seasoned veterans that they were, had already given up hope.

Just then, Saitama finished her set, took a bow, and stepped down—when suddenly, a voice rang out from the second floor: "Word has it that Shen Hao, Lord Shen, has unrivaled talent in poetry and lyrics. Why has he yet to present a work tonight—is he saving one for Miss Lian Xiang?"