Chapter Thirty-Six: Don’t Worship Me

Jin Shaohua laughed loudly, “Brother Xiao, well done! All the sons and daughters of China are proud of you!”

In the distance, Cai E smiled sincerely, “Ha ha, truly worthy of being a descendant of Lord Xiao.”

Kim Jong-il felt he had indeed chosen the right elder brother. Despite the pain, he forced himself to stand and applaud Xiao Fei.

Qin Tianxiang’s eyes brimmed with tears as she declared to everyone, “This is my husband, this is my husband!” But her voice was too soft and drowned out by the crowd’s cheers.

The icy beauty Jin Wanyu allowed a rare smile to brighten her face. Now she indeed found Xiao Fei quite handsome and regretted her earlier impulsiveness. Yet she said nothing, turning to run back to the pavilion.

Though Xiao Fei had achieved an unprecedented victory, his expression remained calm and undisturbed. He knew the people needed such a triumph desperately. In this chaotic era of the Republic, his compatriots suffered under imperialist oppression. The powerful nations had come to their doorstep, committing murder and arson, flaunting their strength. But what could the people do? An incompetent government, a poor and backward country, and the people themselves lacked the power to resist the imperialists. They needed someone to stand up for them, to give them hope.

In his heart, Xiao Fei thought: My beloved compatriots, my cherished homeland, I have come. From this day forth, we will walk with our heads held high and our backs straight. United as one, resolute and determined, we shall surely achieve the rise of our great nation!

And so, the martial arts tournament was transformed by Xiao Fei’s arrival. With his own strength, he defeated the champions of five nations. The remaining contests became meaningless, and the championship fell to Xiao Fei. As for the battle for second and third place, the five foreign representatives had no claim and no face left to continue.

After Xiao Fei’s uncontested victory, what followed was simple sparring among martial arts enthusiasts. The foreign envoys had lost heart and left in disappointment.

Among them, perhaps none was more displeased than the fool Li Tiande. He had intended to use this opportunity to humble Xiao Fei, believing the foreign experts would surely cripple him. Yet Xiao Fei’s abilities exceeded all his expectations.

Li Tiande, unwilling to concede, had another plan. After the martial arts contest, he arranged for a literary competition. He had long calculated that while Xiao Fei excelled in martial arts, he surely lacked literary talent—a simple-minded man with strong limbs. Though the foreign envoys were no longer available to help, Li Tiande had already invited prominent scholars and talents active in Jiangning.

These scholars admired Xiao Fei’s performance, but after the defeat of the foreigners, their hearts grew restless and jealous, unwilling to let Xiao Fei steal their thunder.

Indeed, nearly all the women present had their eyes fixed on Xiao Fei, and these sour scholars could hardly accept it.

Xiao Fei had little interest in the upcoming events. He wished to scold these so-called talents—how could they indulge in poetry and verse when the nation faced ruin and disaster?

But today was Kim Jong-il’s birthday banquet, so he could not lose his temper.

Suddenly, someone composed a modern poem on the spot: “Mount Tai, Mount Tai, narrow at the top, broad at the base. If you turn Mount Tai upside down, narrow at the base, broad at the top.”

Another chimed in: “Baotu Spring, spring leaps like a leopard, bubbles gurgle in Baotu Spring, gurgle gurgle and gurgle, like a machine gun firing.”

Another added: “Eat rice, defecate, why bother with the intestines? Might as well eat excrement directly.”

This drew roaring laughter from the crowd.

Most ridiculous of all, these dreadful poems were met with applause and praise.

Xiao Fei nearly burst out laughing, while Qin Tianxiang was doubled over, tears streaming from her eyes.

Li Tiande cursed these so-called talents inwardly, but believed the real talents had yet to appear. He immediately summoned the four famed scholars of Jiangning to compete and raised the stakes: an on-the-spot couplet contest.

Li Tiande, confident in his overseas education and literary prowess, hoped to embarrass Xiao Fei.

Once Li Tiande issued the challenge, some began to provoke Xiao Fei.

“Master Xiao, I admire your martial arts, but saving the nation cannot rely solely on brute strength—it must depend on intellect and wisdom. Our glorious civilization has a five-thousand-year cultural legacy, not merely a martial tradition. Thus, cultural salvation is the true path. I am one of the Four Talents of Jiangning. I will compose the first line of a couplet, you compose the second. If you cannot match it, my argument stands proven.”

Without waiting for Xiao Fei to respond, he continued, “My first line is: One makes greatness, two makes husband, the human heart surpasses the heavens.”

At this, someone flattered him, “Brilliant, simply brilliant! It’s a classic character-splitting couplet, ingeniously using ‘great’ and ‘husband’ and referencing the sage’s saying, ‘the human heart surpasses the heavens.’ Marvelous!”

Now, all eyes focused on Xiao Fei.

“Husband…” Qin Tianxiang worried for him, knowing he was clever but never having seen his literary talent.

For Xiao Fei, a child of the 1980s, this was trivial. In university, when bored, he played games, read novels, and enjoyed ancient literary anecdotes—these fun couplets he could recite at will.

“Master Xiao, for fairness, so no one claims I prepared in advance to trouble you, let’s set a three-minute limit. If you cannot answer in time, you lose; if you do, I lose. The loser must call the winner ‘Master’ and bow deeply. Agreed?”

“No need, I can beat you right now,” Xiao Fei replied calmly.

“Oh? This isn’t something you can solve by flexing your muscles,” the scholar surnamed Wang retorted.

Xiao Fei responded, “My second line: Two woods make a forest, three woods become a grove, deep in the mountains dwell immortals.”

At these words, the crowd fell silent. Even those ignorant of couplets sensed Xiao Fei’s response was flawless.

Those truly knowledgeable exclaimed, “Perfect, absolutely perfect! Extraordinary!”

Li Tiande glared at the one who had praised Xiao Fei and instantly summoned another scholar.

The next scholar said, “My first line: Plum blossoms thrice played, played to summon plum blossoms, plum blossoms compose love in music. Same rules, loser bows to the winner.”

Clearly, this couplet was more challenging.

Xiao Fei, without hesitation, replied, “My second line: Plantains alone in the rain, rain strikes plantains, plantains play the sounds of silk and bamboo.”

Again, astonishment swept the crowd. Qin Tianxiang gazed at Xiao Fei in awe, whispering, “Husband, you’re incredible. I admire you so much.”

Xiao Fei gave her a gentle kiss, “Don’t worship me, I’m just a legend.”

Listening upstairs, Jin Wanyu secretly admired Xiao Fei’s brilliance, and his playful words made her stifle a laugh. She wondered: What kind of man is he?

The third scholar, unwilling to concede, declared, “My first line: Mountains within mountains, waters within waters, mountains and waters like a painting, painting with water, exquisite, exquisite.”

“I answer with: Clouds chase clouds, moons chase moons, clouds and moons reflect brilliance, brilliance reflects the moon, beautiful, beautiful,” Xiao Fei replied without a second thought.

The final scholar was the leader of Jiangning’s Four Talents, and the others awaited his challenge, hoping he might defeat Xiao Fei.

This scholar furrowed his brow in deep thought, then suddenly smiled, as if struck by inspiration. Confidently, he recited, “Sometimes quiet as a mountain, sometimes swift as a torrent, ancient bamboo draws fragrant orchids, inspired and flowing, listening to lutes and pipes, brief song, long verse, heaven and earth through the ages evoke myriad feelings.”

Everyone now frowned—this was a peerless couplet, who could possibly match it?

Upstairs, Jin Wanyu, the foremost female scholar of Jiangnan, also frowned, unable to find a clue.

“Ha ha, Xiao Fei, this time you can’t answer!” Li Tiande, forgetting his own status, crowed triumphantly.

Yet Xiao Fei laughed and recited, “Sometimes moving like clouds, sometimes lingering like smoke, new chrysanthemums tempt winter plums, joy in their elegance, hearing silk and bamboo, long song, brief verse, the cosmos above and below sighs without end.”

Silence—absolute silence. Whether they understood or not, all recognized that Xiao Fei had won again, and beautifully.

Li Tiande cursed the Four Talents as useless and had to step forward himself, using his long-prepared couplet against Xiao Fei. He declared, “Xiao Fei, my first line: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.”

The uninitiated burst into laughter—wasn’t this just numbers, and shameless to present as a challenge?

But those with some knowledge secretly admired it. Though it appeared to be mere numerals, it concealed a sly insult. After “seven” should come “eight,” but “eight” is missing, implying “forgotten eight,” a homonym for “bastard.” Clever indeed!

Li Tiande was very pleased, swaggering as he challenged Xiao Fei, “Well? Can’t answer, can you?”

But Xiao Fei smiled calmly and recited, “My second line: Loyalty, filial piety, integrity, righteousness, propriety, etiquette, honesty.”

After a moment, Li Tiande finally realized—after the last word, the couplet should end with “sense of shame,” but it was missing. The absence implied “shameless.” Thus, the whole couplet insulted him as “shameless.”

“You, you, you—how dare you call me shameless!” Li Tiande shouted in fury.

A laugh came from upstairs—Jin Wanyu could not help herself. She thought, “Now I finally understand what kind of person Xiao Fei is. He’s not just a man—he’s a legend!”