Chen Yi rose and left. Under ordinary circumstances, it might not have drawn anyone's attention.
But at Guiyun Academy's poetry gathering, many of those who had come to Shuzhou were there for the Way of Calligraphy of Chen Yi, Mr. Qingzhou.
Thus, even with so many people in the spacious courtyard, quite a few noticed him leaving.
Naturally, Mr. Yue Ming, Mr. Zhuo Ying, and the others on the raised platform were among them.
The poetry theme had only just been announced, yet Chen Yi, in whom they had placed such high hopes, made no attempt to compose a poem and display his calligraphy. Instead, he strolled out with a leisurely expression, as though out sightseeing.
Both old men found it rather embarrassing.
Mr. Zhuo Ying leaned closer. "Headmaster, Qingzhou must be going to relieve himself. Everyone has their three urgent needs... perfectly normal, perfectly normal."
Mr. Yue Ming nodded slightly. "Let us hope so."
After spending so much time together, he had come to understand Chen Yi somewhat. He knew that today's occasion might not stir his poetic inspiration.
Fortunately, although he hoped to accomplish something, he was not obsessed with it and would not demand too much of Chen Yi.
Just then, Shuzhou Prefect Liu Si, who had also noticed Chen Yi leaving, glanced at everyone's expressions, leaned forward to look toward the seat of honor, and cupped his hands.
"Mr. Yue Ming, I have long heard that Qingzhou has perfected the Way of Calligraphy, but I have never had the chance to witness it."
"On this fine Mid-Autumn Festival, why have you not arranged for him to compose a poem? He could display his calligraphy and broaden our horizons."
Mr. Yue Ming glanced at him and said evenly, "Qingzhou is an instructor at our academy, not a