Seeing the Real Deal Under One's Hand

The tension in the air of the Spring Come Pavilion escalated as Phone Lincoln finally broke the stunned silence. His voice was hoarse, his eyes bloodshot with shock.

"How can such a transcendent poem even exist!" he exclaimed.

The comparison between his own creation and Magnus Astor's left him feeling insignificant, his pride shattered.

Wong, who had maintained his composure until now, trembled slightly as he read Astor's poem.

It dawned on him that his own work paled in comparison to this masterpiece.

The triumph and confidence he had felt earlier evaporated, leaving him pale and disoriented.

Lincoln, unable to accept the reality, blurted out, "This can't possibly be Astor's work!" His low voice carried across the silent pavilion, where every whisper could be heard clearly.

William Wong's expression soured at Lincoln's outburst. "How dare you show such disrespect to the young master!" he scolded in a stern, low voice.

Lincoln realized his mistake too late. Despite his disbelief and pride, he should have kept his thoughts to himself, especially in the presence of the distinguished guests, including the stunning and noble Princess Elowen Astor.

But having spoken, and sensing the Princess's gaze upon him, Lincoln decided to seize the moment.

In his mind, winning over someone as proud and noble as Princess Elowen required extraordinary measures.

He thought, by exposing what he believed to be Astor's deceit, he could elevate his own status and make a lasting impression on her.

This bold plan took shape as he prepared to challenge the authenticity of Astor's poem further.

With a determined resolve, Phone Lincoln's demeanor shifted.

He straightened his posture, reclaiming his confident aura, and faced William Wong directly. "Respected Sir, I mean no disrespect," Lincoln began.

"I cannot stand idly by and watch as respected figures are deceived. My earlier outburst was too brash, and I seek forgiveness from Your Honor and the esteemed guests."

Wong's usually gentle eyes narrowed, radiating a piercing sharpness. "On what grounds do you claim Master Astor to be deceiving us? Do you have any proof?" he asked sternly, clearly displeased with Lincoln's insinuations.

Cornered, Lincoln braced himself to continue his argument.

"As a former classmate and close acquaintance of Master Astor, I have a fair understanding of his academic abilities. "

"While the poem attributed to him is undeniably a masterpiece, I firmly believe it's beyond his capabilities to produce such an extraordinary work," he stated, a blend of confidence and unease in his voice.

Cleverly, Lincoln then turned to address Gideon Astor, kneeling respectfully.

"Your Grace, every parent cherishes honesty and sincerity in their child. I feel obligated to speak up, even at the risk of displeasing everyone here. It's my duty to question this matter for Your Grace's sake."

After voicing his concerns, Lincoln prostrated himself before Gideon Astor.

He was well aware of the immense power wielded by this figure, whose influence rivaled, if not surpassed, that of the reigning monarch.

A single sign of displeasure from Astor could spell Lincoln's doom, even with his connections to the royal family.

Lincoln's move was a calculated gamble. He shrewdly flattered Gideon Astor while simultaneously positioning himself as a concerned and truthful individual, bravely willing to confront potential deceit.

His quick wit and bold strategy, even under the scrutiny of William Wong and other officials, did not go unnoticed, revealing a glimpse of his sharp intellect.

As the situation escalated, Gideon Astor, presiding over the gathering, fixated his unwavering gaze on the kneeling Phone Lincoln. His composed visage betrayed no emotion, yet his voice, resonating with authority, pierced the silence. "You fear that I might order your execution?"

Lincoln shivered, feeling a cold wave sweep over him. The piercing insight of Gideon Astor left no room for his intentions to hide. The thought of a swift command of execution from Astor made Lincoln realize his vulnerability, knowing that even his father would dare not seek vengeance but instead plead for mercy.

Yet, Gideon Astor did not issue any dire command. He glanced briefly at Lincoln, now akin to a mere ant, and inquired calmly, "What doubts do you have? Speak freely. Are you certain that this poem wasn't written by Magnus Astor?"

Lincoln, sensing a reprieve, quickly rose and, emboldened by Astor's willingness to listen, stood up straight. 

The gathered crowd's attention now converged on him, including that of the distinguished Princess Elowen Astor. 

Empowered by this focus, Lincoln declared confidently to the assembly, "Thank you for allowing me to speak openly. As I stated before, I am certain that this work isn't the creation of Master Astor. As his classmate, I can vouch for his abilities with my own integrity."

As murmurs and nods of agreement spread among the attendees, aware of Magnus Astor's less-than-stellar reputation, a loud objection suddenly cut through the room. 

The interruption caused everyone to turn in surprise, eager to see who dared challenge Lincoln's assertive declaration.

William Wong, after some thought, proposed a topic to Magnus Astor and Phone Lincoln: "Today marks a joyous celebration for King Astor's birthday, and all guests are in high spirits with wine as our companion. How about both of you compose a poem about wine within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn?"

Phone Lincoln confidently agreed, showing no hesitation. He bowed respectfully and said, "As you wish, Master Wong. I'm ready to take on this challenge."

Turning to Magnus Astor, William Wong awaited his response. Contrary to Lincoln's expectations of seeing Astor flustered, Astor's face beamed with a bright smile. He nodded approvingly and remarked, "A fine topic indeed."

With both agreeing to the challenge, Master Wong lit the incense stick, placing it delicately in a small bronze burner. As the fragrance filled the room, Astor nonchalantly quoted, "What cures sorrow? Only Du Kang wine!"

This spontaneous response from Astor left the onlookers surprised, as they had not expected such a composed and quick-witted reply from him. Even Gideon Astor looked at his son in unexpected admiration.

Meanwhile, Lincoln, who had initially captured everyone's attention, glanced sideways at Astor, scoffing internally at his casual demeanor. "Just a façade. Surely he can't produce anything significant. The very idea of him composing a supreme poem is laughable!"

Lincoln then refocused on his own writing task. As the incense burned to one-third of its length, the sound of his brush tapping the inkstone signaled the completion of his work. "King Astor, esteemed guests, my poem is ready," he announced, standing tall with his hands behind his back.

However, Astor appeared in no rush. While the incense continued to burn, he poured himself another glass of wine and said calmly, "There's no hurry. The incense has more than half its length left. I'll finish my wine before I get to writing."

The room buzzed with anticipation, contrasting the confidence of Lincoln with the relaxed demeanor of Astor, making the competition all the more intriguing.