"Has the person in charge at the Poetry Association been informed?" Cheng Mengxi asked the staff beside her. The person shook their head.

  "Not sure. We only reported it when we noticed something unusual. This poem is just too good," the staff member said helplessly.

  Cheng Mengxi suddenly smiled. She slowly said, "This person is an author from our Chinese Literature Network. I just received a report, one of our Literature Network’s books suddenly shot up the reward rankings. They suspected someone was maniputing the rankings, but now it seems like those who read the poem are flocking over!"

  "When we first held this poetry competition, the Poetry Association thought we had no chance of winning. At best, they assumed one or two of our entries might win bronze. Even though it was a joint event, we were seen as mere decoration. But now, it looks like they miscalcuted!"

  Cheng Mengxi was one of the event organizers from the Chinese Literature Network. She had long been displeased with the Chinese Poetry Association’s arrogant attitude. Seeing the current situation, she felt utterly satisfied. Moreover, the poem Early Summer had been written by a professor from the Poetry Association—others might not know, but she did!

  "Strictly follow the evaluation rules. If any malicious vote manipution is detected, delete the work immediately!"

  Cheng Mengxi gave a direct order. This poem, Crossing Dongting Lake, far surpassed all other entries in both its wording and artistic conception, she would not allow it to be tarnished!

  That evening, in an ancient-style courtyard in the capital city, a beautiful young girl walked under a tree with a tablet in her hands. She approached an elderly man sitting on a rattan chair, enjoying the evening breeze.

  "Grandpa, don’t you want to check the ranking of your Early Summer?"

  The old man slowly opened his eyes, looking kindly at the girl beside him. "What is it, Xiaoyan? I’ve never cared about rankings."

  This old man was none other than Du Guangyu, the tenth-generation descendant of the great poet Du Fu. A lifetime devoted to poetry, he was a director of the Chinese Poetry Association and one of the founders of the Poetry Association.

  Du Xiaoyan giggled. "Hehe, I knew you’d say that. But what if I told you that not only did you not get first pce, but you’re also trailing behind by tens of thousands of votes? Even your dear granddaughter didn’t vote for you!"

  At first, Du Guangyu wasn’t concerned. But hearing that he was behind by tens of thousands of votes—and that even his granddaughter hadn’t voted for him—he couldn’t sit still. His interest was immediately piqued.

  "Show me."

  He understood that the younger generation would always surpass the old. Back then, his poem Late Winter had completely overshadowed his father’s work, and his father had eventually admitted defeat.

  Taking the tablet, Du Guangyu first saw his own poem Early Summer, ranked second with over 80,000 votes. Not bad, how much more could the first-pce poem have?

  His gaze shifted to the top-ranked poem. When he saw the numbers, his eyes widened in shock.

  130,000 votes?!

  Impossible!

  His hands trembled as he tapped to open Crossing Dongting Lake.

  "The west wind ages the waves of Dongting."

  He read every word with deep focus, that was his way with poetry. A true master always carries the heart of a student.

  The first line didn’t cause much reaction. He simply noted that it cleverly referenced historical context. He continued reading.

  "In one night, Xiang Jun's hair turns white."

  When Du Guangyu combined this line with the previous one, he was visibly moved.

  "White-haired Xiang Jun… The legend says that when she heard Emperor Shun had died at Cangwu, she wept so bitterly that the bamboo turned spotted. That’s tragic. Very good!"

  He didn’t hesitate to offer his praise.

  "Drunk, unaware of the sky in the water?!"

  His breathing quickened slightly. He didn’t rush to interpret it. Instead, he immediately looked at the next line, sensing that it would form a perfect match with this one—because the third line didn't directly connect with the first two!

  "A boat full of dreams pressing against the Milky Way!!!"

  Upon reading this, Du Guangyu felt as if he had stepped into a dreamscape, floating amidst a glittering river of stars, half-drunken, unwilling to wake. The imagery was fantastical, like a fairy tale!

  "Amazing! Absolutely brilliant!"

  Du Guangyu's face was glowing with excitement. He read the poem again carefully, then turned to his granddaughter. "I always knew talent would emerge with each new generation, but I never expected such remarkable talent! The first two lines express sorrow and unfulfilled ambition, but the st two lines are truly divine. They elevate the entire poem to another level, weaving a dreamlike world. Romantic and ethereal!"

  Hearing her grandfather’s analysis, Du Xiaoyan felt the poem’s artistic conception deepen even further. She murmured the st two lines to herself.

  "Drunk, unaware of the sky in the water. A boat full of dreams pressing against the Milky Way."

  "Which member of the Poetry Association wrote this poem?"

  Du Guangyu asked, eager to discuss poetry with the author. Anyone who could write such a romantic piece must be a person of great wisdom!

  Du Xiaoyan giggled mischievously. "Grandpa, you guessed wrong! The author isn’t from the Poetry Association. It’s a novelist from the Chinese Literature Network!"

  "What?"

  For a moment, Du Guangyu couldn’t process it. When the Chinese Literature Network approached the Poetry Association to co-host this poetry event, he had honestly thought they stood no chance.

  After all, writing poetry required inspiration, immersion, and extensive knowledge of cssical poems. Members of the Poetry Association, who lived and breathed poetry, obviously had an advantage.

  But now—!

  "The younger generation truly surpasses the old. It seems I really am getting old!"

  Du Guangyu had worked on Early Summer for a long time, revising it repeatedly until it met his standards. He had submitted it to the competition not for fame but to spread the power of poetry.

  "I never expected that on the very first day, we would already see a gold-medal work."

  Du Guangyu leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he murmured Crossing Dongting Lake again. Once more, he felt himself transported to that dreamlike world. He suddenly had an urge to drink, to truly experience "Drunk, unaware of the sky in the water."

  Du Xiaoyan's mouth opened slightly in shock. "Grandpa, your Early Summer is amazing too! This is just the beginning, haven’t you always taught me not to give up?"

  Du Guangyu opened his eyes and gred at her, stroking his beard. "What do you know, girl? This poem could become a timeless masterpiece! The st two lines alone could be enshrined as cssics!"

  He ignored her protests, closed his eyes, and continued whispering the lines, craving a drink.

  Du Xiaoyan pouted. She had only been trying to comfort the old man. Honestly, the moment she saw this poem, she had been utterly captivated!

  She thought about her own submission, Spring Dawn, which was struggling to climb the rankings. Though it had made the top ten, its votes were nowhere near her grandfather’s, let alone Crossing Dongting Lake.

  She had even cast her own vote for Crossing Dongting Lake!

  "The author is called Straight Man… How can a straight man write such a romantic poem?!"

  She was now looking forward to the final competition, where the author would have to appear in person. Hopefully, he’s a handsome guy!

  Meanwhile, at the Poetry Association, news of the poem had spread. It had become so popur that it was now a trending topic across various online ptforms.

  After reading Crossing Dongting Lake, the association members reacted just like Du Guangyu, stunned by its brilliance, captivated by its dreamlike imagery, and shocked that a mere novelist had written it.

  Only a few young poets were unconvinced, believing it to be a fluke. Among them was Quan Zhizhuan, the grandson of another Poetry Association founder and the author of Mulberry Fields.

  His poem was currently ranked third with 79,000 votes—just behind Early Summer, but trailing Crossing Dongting Lake by over twice the votes. He had originally aimed to surpass Early Summer and cim first pce.

  Yet now, an unknown novelist had completely dominated the competition and created what many were calling a timeless masterpiece.

  Quan Zhizhuan was not happy.