Chapter 132: The Poems of West Tower? Reveal Them!
This time’s “Mountain Sound Cup” poetry exchange event on Douyin featured two types of live broadcasts:
The first was the official live stream in the official room, where the host invited 18 guests from the Shan Shui Society. Sitting prominently in the front row were the famed “Quick Gun” Feng Qi and “Silver Gun” Zhu Han.
Both wore calm expressions, yet beneath their profound gazes simmered a lethal intensity.
Behind them stood sixteen other members of the Shan Shui Society, each exuding a formidable aura and sharp eyes.
Clearly, they were not here in peace.
The second type was the popular internet streamers, twenty-seven in total, each broadcasting from their own channels.
Simultaneously, Douyin’s official live stream integrated the video feeds from these 27 streamers, projecting them onto the large screens at the venue.
At this moment, the official “Mountain Sound Cup” live stream had amassed over a million viewers.
The barrage of comments flooded the screen.
This indicated the event had stirred quite a sensation.
Even the smallest streamer channels boasted over ten thousand viewers.
Especially noteworthy was “West Tower,” thrust into the spotlight by Douyin, whose live stream audience astonishingly surpassed 100,000.
This marked the first time West Tower’s viewership broke the six-figure mark.
The enthusiasm among netizens even surpassed that of the official stream.
“West Tower, keep it up!”
“West Tower, we’ll always support you!”
These were words from ardent fans—unbeknownst to many, West Tower had already garnered some die-hard followers.
Yet such fans remained few.
Currently, the comments took on a somewhat hostile tone.
“Come take a look—who is this streamer that dares to stand equal to Feng Qi and Zhu Han?”
“And wearing a mask? That’s terrifying.”
“Who gave you the courage to challenge the Twin Guns?”
“Hilarious! These internet celebrities nowadays really don’t know their place.”
“West Tower does have some culture—you can tell from a poem he wrote earlier. But to compare him with the Twin Guns? That’s just too much of a gap.”
“West Tower, be humble. Maybe admit your mistake in front of the cameras.”
“……”
Having weathered countless storms, Wang Mo paid no mind to these comments.
His gaze fixed firmly on the Douyin official live stream.
The poetry exchange had officially begun.
After a brief introduction, the host dove into the main agenda:
“This ‘Mountain Sound Cup’ exchange spans three days. Day one focuses on ‘Opening Poems.’ Day two allows for free expression. Day three features themed poetry composition.
“Today is the first day, so we begin with the appreciation of opening poems.
“All 45 participants have submitted their opening poems in advance.
“The requirement was to compose a poem based on their online or pen names.
“Now, let’s see the wonderful works these guests have sent us.”
At this, the comment section erupted.
“I want to see Feng Qi’s work!”
“Show Zhu Han’s poem!”
“Hurry up and reveal them—let’s see whose poem is better.”
“Twin Guns!”
“Twin Guns!”
Unsurprisingly, the rivalry between the Twin Guns attracted the most attention.
The host smiled and looked toward Feng Qi and Zhu Han.
“Teachers Feng and Zhu, viewers are most interested in your works. Would you like to say something?”
Zhu Han shook his head, remaining silent.
Feng Qi calmly said, “I’m more interested in West Tower’s poem.”
That single sentence crackled with tension.
The comments exploded.
“Feng Qi’s words are so sharp.”
“That’s a direct hit.”
“Ha! Feng Qi is clearly riled up.”
“Anyone would be angry. Feng Qi, as one of the top scholars of Huaxia, being compared to an internet celebrity on Douyin—it’s a provocation. Feng Qi’s temper is still good; if it were me, I’d have walked away long ago.”
“……”
The host, seemingly oblivious to the underlying aggression, smiled gently.
“Feng Qi, please rest assured. West Tower’s poem will be revealed along with the others shortly.”
At this moment, Zhu Han suddenly asked, “Host, what is the order for revealing the opening poems? Is it random or sequential?”
The host replied, “We’ll first reveal the streamers’ works, then the Shan Shui Society guests’ poems.”
This was the predetermined plan set by Douyin.
However, Zhu Han shook his head.
“Let’s reveal the Shan Shui Society’s first.”
Feng Qi nodded in agreement.
“Exactly, let’s start with ours.”
“Uh…”
The host’s face showed hesitation.
The original order was designed because Douyin knew there was a vast quality gap between the internet streamers and the Shan Shui Society members.
Revealing the streamers’ poems first, without comparison, would prevent early disappointment among viewers.
But if the Shan Shui Society’s poems were shown first—the jewels before the common stones—viewers would feel as if they had just feasted on a sumptuous seafood banquet only to be force-fed something foul immediately after.
Feng Qi said calmly, “Why? Is there a problem?”
Ha!
What he wanted was for the viewers to truly perceive the difference between the two sides.
To know what a true literati is—and what an internet celebrity really is.
To understand if these internet personalities even deserved to compete against them.
As the host struggled, a voice came through the earpiece—Jiang Liang said, “No problem. Let’s proceed as Teacher Feng wishes.”
Hearing this, the host nodded.
“Very well, then we will reveal the Shan Shui Society’s poems first.”
With that, he tapped the large screen.
Immediately, a name appeared: Shan Shui Society—Chang Ge.
The camera shifted to a young man with long hair, dressed in traditional attire, seated among the guests.
Upon seeing his name, the young man stood and smiled slightly, gesturing politely to the camera, exuding the air of a scholar.
Then, his poem appeared on the big screen.
The host read aloud with cadence and modulation.
It was a seven-character quatrain, with one line—“Raising the cup, I drink three jars of wine, playing a long song for you”—drawing widespread admiration.
Even Wang Mo nodded quietly; this man named Chang Ge was only at the “emerging talent” level within the Shan Shui Society, yet his strength was formidable.
The Shan Shui Society truly lived up to its reputation.
Next was the second guest: Shan Shui Society—Zhu Ying.
A middle-aged man with a slightly simple smile, but his poem was far from simple.
The line “The candle’s shadow flickers beneath the red lamp, the silk dress ripples as dreams come” stirred many imaginations and earned great praise.
Then came the third, fourth, and so on.
After all sixteen Shan Shui Society opening poems, excluding the Twin Guns, were revealed, the comments in various live rooms transformed into a flurry of snowflakes.
“Too powerful!”
“Oh my, these poems are so beautiful.”
“Feeling the splendor of poetry.”
“The Shan Shui Society truly deserves its name!”
“……”
The more this happened, the stronger the curiosity about Feng Qi and Zhu Han’s works grew.
Gradually, the comments converged into a unified chant.
“Twin Guns!”
“Twin Guns!”
“Twin Guns!”
Knowing he could not delay, the host proceeded to reveal one five-character quatrain and one ancient lyric by each of Feng Qi and Zhu Han.
One went by the name “Guest Beneath the Banana Tree,” the other “Cultivated Grace.”
Both masters of poetry, their works surpassed the earlier Shan Shui Society members in diction and thematic depth by a full tier.
Many viewers, unfamiliar with poetry, found themselves puzzled.
But those versed in poetry began to lavish praise.
“Truly worthy of the Twin Guns.”
“I thought the Shan Shui Society’s works were excellent... until I saw these two.”
“Written so exquisitely—the more I savor, the more profound.”
“When the Twin Guns strike, it’s a total domination!”
“Who do you think will win this time?”
“I prefer Feng Qi’s quatrain.”
“But I find Zhu Han’s lyric more meaningful.”
“The Twin Guns rivalry officially begins. Day one is already so fierce yet evenly matched!”
“Absolutely thrilling!”
“Wow, the tone of the comment above doesn’t sound local. Suggest a thorough check!”
“……”
After revealing the Twin Guns’ poems, the host took a brief ten-minute break before unveiling the streamers’ works.
The first streamer was Liuyun.
On Douyin, Liuyun was a talented streamer with over a million followers, known for crafting phrases and poetic expressions during his broadcasts. His live stream had surged past fifty thousand viewers.
“Haha, it’s Liuyun’s turn.”
“Go, Liuyun!”
“No need to surpass the Twin Guns; just beat the other Shan Shui members.”
“After seeing the Shan Shui Society’s poems, they seem just average. Liuyun definitely matches them!”
Amid his fans’ cheers, the host revealed Liuyun’s poem—a modern piece.
To many unversed in literature, modern poetry’s merit was invisible.
But among the viewers, many were deeply knowledgeable.
Seeing Liuyun’s poem, many were stunned.
To the layperson, it seemed beautiful—flowery language, rhythmic, rhyming like a beatbox.
Yet experts found it almost devoid of imagery, with a chaotic pile of words and forced rhymes.
“What is this nonsense?”
“Modern poetry? Don’t make me laugh!”
“……”
Some began to explain modern poetry in the comments: Though modern poetry is not bound by strict format or rhyme, it still carries artistic features such as lyrical expression, allusions, careful conception, and expressive techniques. Lines must convey complete meaning, images ought to stand independently, and the poem should effectively showcase tone and mood, with specific time, characters, and events introduced.
If one thinks modern poetry is merely arbitrary line breaks, then Liuyun’s poem is a meaningless joke.
Judging by this poem, Liuyun hadn’t grasped even the basics.
This modern poem was, in essence, garbage.
These remarks sent the comments into an uproar.
Many realized the chasm between Liuyun’s poem and those of the Shan Shui Society guests was vast—like a deep canyon.
But what happened next stirred the viewers even more profoundly.
Poems from other streamers—Tan Mo Xiaoyu, Zhi Bi Ren, Shou Wo Fengyun, Yun Hai Fu Chen—were revealed one after another.
None reached a respectable level.
Several were downright unbearable, failing even to follow basic tonal patterns or rhyme schemes.
Seeing these, many viewers felt devastated.
“Is this the talent level of internet celebrities?”
“Oh my, even my son’s poetry is better.”
“Dude, for a seven-character quatrain, at least rhyme properly.”
“How did these people become ‘talent’ streamers?”
“Ha, this one is even funnier—he wrote an acrostic poem with his username. Probably generated by Baidu, with famous lines pasted in. Hahaha…”
“I’ve said it all along—none of these internet celebrities are genuine.”
“Eyesore!”
Then, an even greater uproar swept through the comments.
“This is their level, yet they shamelessly want to compete with the Shan Shui Society?”
“Just ridiculous.”
“Before seeing their poems, I actually thought they could match the Shan Shui Society. Otherwise, Douyin wouldn’t have made such posters. Turns out, Douyin just thinks we’re fools.”
“……”
The official Douyin live stream was overwhelmed by the flood of criticism.
Hundreds, even thousands, of comments appeared every second.
At the venue, all the Shan Shui Society members bore faint smiles; they had already seen the chaos on their phones.
One member snorted coldly and was about to stand and speak.
Feng Qi grabbed him firmly.
“Don’t rush. West Tower’s poem hasn’t been revealed yet. Let’s wait until all poems are shown before commenting.”
Indeed.
Among all the streamers, only West Tower’s poem remained unrevealed.
Comments surged like a tidal wave.
“Hurry up and show West Tower’s!”
“What? Is West Tower too ashamed to show us his poem?”
“Tsk tsk, I want to see what West Tower uses to compete with the Twin Guns.”
“Ridiculous!”
“Faster!”
“Faster!”
Facing the passionate crowd, the professionally trained host still wore a gentle smile.
“Alright, now let’s view the final streamer and today’s last guest—West Tower’s work. Please watch.”
As her words fell, the big screen displayed a lyric that captivated everyone’s attention:
Meeting Joy · Silently Ascending West Tower
By West Tower
Silently ascending West Tower alone, the moon like a hook.
Lonely parasol trees lock the deep courtyard in clear autumn.
Uncut, yet tangled—this is parting sorrow, a unique flavor lingering in the heart.
(The End)