Chapter 116: It's Nothing, It's Fine, We Can Win

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Ning Zheng rose to greet them, showing the importance he placed on the occasion. In truth, they could have entertained Jiang Tianji at the State Guest Hotel, but a family banquet carried a higher level of prestige.

Shen Xian glanced toward the entrance.

Leading the group was a man in his sixties, tall and well-built, dressed in a suit and sporting gold-rimmed glasses. He was well-preserved and appeared to be just in his early fifties.

“Professor Jiang,” Ning Zheng greeted politely, shaking his hand with a broad smile. His demeanor was distinctly different from how he treated the younger generation.

Though Jiang Tianji did not engage in politics, no one dared to underestimate him—his family background was formidable.

“Secretary Ning, it’s been many years since we last met. Seeing you again today, you remain as spirited as ever,” Jiang Tianji said warmly, clasping Ning Zheng’s hands. “Come, let me introduce my students.”

He gestured behind him to a group of five men and five women, each about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old.

They all exuded an air of nobility and distinction, clearly from wealthy or influential families.

Five held doctorates in literature, and the other five were graduate students in literature, all currently working at Jiang Tianji’s research institute.

“This is the team leader, Wu Qiong, from Brunei. His family business contributes a quarter of their nation’s GDP annually!” Jiang Tianji pointed to a man in his late twenties, whose refined and scholarly appearance was accentuated by his glasses and sharply defined features.

“Greetings, Secretary Ning!” Wu Qiong stepped forward, shaking hands with proper etiquette.

“This is the deputy leader, Lin Qianqian, a Malaysian whose family runs mining, flooring, and marble businesses,” Jiang Tianji introduced a striking young woman. “She holds a doctorate in literature as well.”

He proceeded to introduce the others, each with equally impressive backgrounds—families owning mines and bearing intimidating titles.

While foreign doctorates in literature might not hold the same weight as domestic ones, securing a position at Jiang Tianji’s institute was a testament to their exceptional abilities.

“I’d like to introduce mine as well. This is Qi Zhengqing, the eldest son of the Qi family; this is Ye Yuning, the young princess of the Ye family; and this is Su Rulong, the scion of the Su family,” Ning Zheng introduced them one by one.

When he mentioned Su Rulong, an odd expression crossed Jiang Tianji’s face.

The students behind him also looked at Su Rulong with curiosity.

Clearly, before coming, Jiang Tianji had warned his students to be cautious of Su Rulong.

“And this young man?” Jiang Tianji asked, noticing that Ning Zheng had introduced everyone else but not Shen Xian.

“He is Shen Xian... a friend of Ning Cai,” Ning Zheng replied.

Jiang Tianji’s eyes lit up instantly. “The young master of the Shen family from Haicheng?”

He was referring to the wealthiest family in Haicheng.

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Ning Zheng shook his head. “No.”

He paused and added carefully, “His background isn’t complicated—clean and straightforward.”

He chose his words delicately; he intended to say the background was ordinary but phrased it more artfully.

Jiang Tianji did not believe him.

In the capital’s elite circles, aristocratic lineage was deeply ingrained and frankly outrageous.

Would this old-fashioned Ning Zheng invite a young man of plain background to such a family banquet?

“Could he be the object of the young lady’s affections?” Jiang Tianji asked with a hint of gossip.

Ning Zheng smiled faintly. “Of course not. Well then, Professor Jiang, shall we move to the reception hall?”

With that, he led the way.

The reception hall was on the basement level—a grand dining room with a large table that could seat thirty and richly decorated.

Just as Jiang Tianji and his party were seated, four or five more people arrived.

Among those invited by Qi Zhengqing were two literature PhDs, both university faculty members.

“Wow, isn’t that Ruan Bo, the secretary-general of the Ancient Poetry Association?”

“At only thirty years old, he has published numerous high-quality ancient poems in various journals!”

“And that woman—I recall she scored full marks on the college entrance exam with a classical Chinese essay!”

The group behind Jiang Tianji whispered excitedly.

“I’ll go help the young lady with serving,” Shen Xian told Ning Cai. “She can’t manage alone.”

Though there was a food service elevator from the kitchen to the dining hall, it was still a bit hectic for one person.

Ning Cai nodded calmly.

Just as Shen Xian stepped into the kitchen, three more people arrived.

One was familiar—Xu Zijian, a master of classical Chinese studies.

Xu Zijian had not come alone; he brought two guest professors, also luminaries in classical literature.

They had been invited by Ning Zheng.

Experts of this caliber were rare domestically, many hidden away in private circles and difficult to assemble on short notice.

Even if gathered, these masters were reluctant to attend an academic exchange at Ning Zheng’s home on the Mid-Autumn Festival.

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Take certain cities in Central China or southern Anhui province, for example—places where traditional culture was well-preserved and many were masters of classical poetry.

Yet they usually avoided public appearances.

“Professor Xu, long time no see!” Jiang Tianji greeted warmly, stepping forward with a sincere smile, far more genuine than his demeanor toward Ning Zheng.

In fact, foreign classical literature research institutes were akin to domestic associations—only domestically, there were many specialized groups.

For example, there were associations for ancient poetry, couplets, classical Chinese prose, ancient music, and so forth.

Abroad, however, everything was encompassed under the broad umbrella of classical literature research institutes.

Each approach had its pros and cons.

Foreign institutes were better suited for scholarly research, creative work, and showcasing talent.

Domestic associations, influenced heavily by politics, had lost their purity—many had become platforms for the gilding of the children of high-ranking officials. Fierce battles were fought over honorary titles like president or vice president.

Thus, at present, associations were generally less powerful than research institutes.

Xu Zijian understood this well. Seeing Jiang Tianji and his entourage, his first thought was: this is going to be tough.

Today’s academic contest was likely to be a crushing defeat for Ning Zheng’s side.

“Ning Cai, have someone arrange seating. I’ll speak with Professor Xu for a moment,” Ning Zheng said, pulling Xu Zijian aside.

“How confident are you?”

Xu Zijian shook his head with a solemn expression. “Almost none. I’ve examined those ten—this is the strongest group of young talents. Each has their specialty: some excel in regulated verse, others in the delicate Song dynasty poetic style.”

“Do you think you can match Jiang Tianji?”

Xu Zijian replied, “It’s evenly matched, but I have no idea what theme Jiang Tianji will choose today.”

He sighed softly. “It’s difficult. If only someone were here.”

“If he were here, we’d definitely win!”

Ning Zheng was about to ask who he meant when Xu Zijian spotted Shen Xian carrying dishes.

“What did you say?” Ning Zheng asked.

Xu Zijian withdrew his gaze and said, “Nothing. It’s fine. We can win.”