The villainous prince who bullied Feng Aotian was actually myself.

Page 183

Leon did not refuse and drank the wine in one gulp.

"Oh my, they're even trying to stop us from drinking. Look at this young couple, all lovey-dovey. So you two are here to make us jealous."

Sofia joked.

"The atmosphere's already set, why don't you two just kiss?"

The other noble ladies also joined in the commotion.

"Let's continue playing the game."

Philippa lowered her head and said.

"Oh dear, our Holy Maiden is shy."

Sofia laughed.

"Sophia!"

Philippa nudged her lips and glared at Sofia.

"Okay, okay, I won't joke with you guys anymore."

Sofia laughed and said, "Then let's continue the game."

The glass bottle continued to spin, and this time the opening pointed towards Leon.

Leon knew he couldn't avoid it. Because it was obvious that Sophia, as the bottle spinner, could completely control where the bottle's opening would finally stop if she wanted to, through precise force.

However, she kept the bottle's opening away from Leon, probably for the sake of entertainment. Everyone at the salon wanted to see Leon compose poetry, so she had to keep them in suspense. Sophia, as the atmosphere-setter, knew how to create buzz.

When the bottle pointed at Leon, all the noble ladies turned their gazes toward him.

Even Philippa looked on with anticipation.

For the first time ever, Sophia remained silent, and the once lively salon suddenly fell silent.

"It's my turn now."

Leon smiled, breaking the silence, and stood up from the sofa.

After bowing his head and pondering for a moment,

Leon began, “I have a poem in mind about the wind, but it’s a bit long, and I need paper and pen.”

"Quick, go get some paper and a pen! Get the big kind of paper for banners!"

Philippa called out to the servants standing behind her.

Soon, the servants brought paper and pen.

The paper was laid out on the open ground in the middle.

Leon didn't leave any ink marks either. After the paper and pen arrived, he picked up the pen and started writing on the paper and pen.

Oh, wild west wind, the breath of autumn's life!

Leon quickly wrote a passage in Fchester. Although he knew the Night Whisper of the vampires, he had not practiced writing it, so his calligraphy was not very beautiful.

This put those among the crowd who couldn't quite understand Fitcher language in a difficult position, and they had to ask someone who could read it to translate.

What did he write?

someone asked.

"He wrote—Oh, wild west wind, the breath of autumn life."

Sofia translated.

"Huh? It seems pretty ordinary. I thought it would be amazing. Is this all?"

People began to express their doubts.

Leon ignored their doubts and continued writing.

You are invisible, yet you sweep away the withered leaves, as if spirits were fleeing from the sorcerer's long chant; yellow, black, gray, and red like those suffering from tuberculosis.

As I write this, a powerful sense of powerless lament surges forth, and the few among us who understand poetry have already sensed the extraordinary nature of this poem.

[The leaves, afflicted by the plague, fall and wither: Oh, it is you who, in your chariot, hasten the winged seeds to the dark winter bed, where they lie, like a graveyard, cold, deep, lowly, until spring arrives, when you, my azure sister, sound your resounding horn to the sleeping earth.]

Leon continued writing, and apart from translating in a low voice, the room gradually fell into a deep silence.

【…】

Leon continued writing, pondering as he wrote, sometimes for long periods of time, but no one interrupted him.

【Oh, heed this incantation-like verse, and scatter my heart's voice, like ashes and sparks, from the still-burning fire to the world! Let the trumpet of prophecy awaken the slumbering earth through my lips! Oh, west wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?】

Leon finally put down his pen, letting out a long sigh of relief. The paper was now nearly full of hundreds of words, almost reaching the end of its two-meter length.

"If winter comes, can spring be far behind?"

Philippa recited the poem softly, lost in thought.

After the poetry recitation ended, no one present laughed and praised as they had before.

Because this poem was on a completely different level from their previous works, none of them knew how to evaluate it, but they felt a kind of suppressed emotion that was hard to release.

A masterpiece!

A masterpiece!

This is absolutely going to be a world-class masterpiece that will be passed down through the ages! It's just that such a masterpiece was born from such a simple and casual salon game, which is truly unexpected.

Does this poem have a title?

Philippa suddenly spoke up.

The women immediately looked at Philippa warily.

“Philippa! You don’t want to put your name on the title of this poem again, do you?”

Sofia and others questioned this.

Even though they were good friends, they still couldn't stand it. It wasn't that Philippa was unworthy of the poem, but they felt that adding Philippa's name would make the poem lose its charm.

Most importantly, Philippa's name will live on along with this poem, which is something to be envious of.

How could you think of me like that?

Philippa said angrily, "Although I would like to add my name to the title of the poem, it is obviously inappropriate. The spiritual realm it expresses has completely transcended love. If I force a girl's name into the title, who knows how future generations will criticize me for being vain and ruining a good poem!"

"Of course it has a name."

Leon wrote a short line of words at the very top of the blank sheet of paper he had prepared beforehand: "Ode to the West Wind".

The poem written by Leon is Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind," which has been sung throughout the world.

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Playing in the Water in Moonlight City

The vampire queen is dead, and the progenitor Lilith has also suffered a severe blow.

Humanity's most prosperous cities have suffered immense destruction, and a civil war is currently raging over the throne.

The dragon race will also be engulfed in civil war due to the death of the Dragon Emperor, and the dragons' uprising will inevitably cause great chaos.

The Ode to the West Wind perfectly captures the current global depression, blending a sense of helplessness with an inspiring hope amidst the passionate struggle.

The originally joyful salon ended in a somber atmosphere.

After reading the Ode to the West Wind, the guests at the salon lost interest in continuing the activity and soon left.

Philippa rolled up the paper from which Leon had written his poem.

"I will keep the original manuscript of this poem for you."

Philippa, holding the toilet paper, smiled at Leon and said...

"Take it if you like."

"By the way, Leon, are you going to sign your name next to the poem?"

"No need. I hope people remember the poem, not me."

"alright."

Philippa stored the scroll of poems in her storage container.

Leon understood the poem's impact and the immense historical value the original manuscript might hold.

However, since he had copied someone else's poem, he didn't want to keep it with him and tell everyone that he had written it.

It's common for time travelers to steal poems. Other time travelers might be able to openly claim that they created the masterpiece, but Leon always considered such blatant plagiarism to be extremely shameful. Therefore, he was truly ashamed to put his name on the poem as the author's name.

Even if it weren't for that, people would only assume that it was written by Leon.

Oh well, what's done is done.

Leon was too lazy to think about it anymore.

"It's getting late, let's go back to our palace to rest."

Philippa said.

"It's getting late? How did you know that?"

Leon looked out the window at the scenery, feeling curious.

The Thorn Forest has always been a scene of a full moon with a bright moon, and it has never changed. There is no distinction between day and night outside, so how can there be any talk of the sky?

"You might not be able to tell, but I grew up in the Thorn Forest and I can. I'm too lazy to explain it to you."

Philippa looked at Leon, then at the night view outside the window, and said.

"alright."

Living here for so long, it's probably because of my biological clock, right? It shouldn't have anything to do with the weather. But Leon was too lazy to expose Philippa.

Leon followed Philippa through the palace, and after passing through a garden path, they arrived at a unique little palace with a solitary spire and dome.

After entering the small palace, Philippa led Leon into a room.

The room was beautifully decorated, with a soft, round bed and curtains adorned with various sparkling gemstones.

Vampires and elves share a common trait: they both love shiny things, and beautiful gemstones and agates perfectly suit their aesthetic preferences.

"Is this your room?"

"Leon asked."

"Yeah, isn't it beautiful!"

Philippa proudly stated, "These gems are my favorite collection from all over the world."

"Yeah, beautiful."

Leon praised.

"Do you like it? You can stay here whenever you come to the Thorn Forest."

Philippa said.

"Live here?"

Leon froze for a second. "But this is your room. If I stay here, where will you stay?"

"Hey, Leon, you're usually pretty smart, so why do you always seem so dull in these areas?"

Philippa shyly lowered her head, "Of course I'll be with you. Don't husband and wife sleep in the same bed?"

"What—don't you want to sleep with your wife?"

Philippa's death stare.

"not at all."

Leon smiled shyly.

"Oh, Leon, I didn't expect you to be so shy."

Philippa immediately noticed the subtle change in Leon's expression.

"Why would I be shy?"

Leon is stubborn as a mule.