Faced with Zhang Bairen's request, Chen Changsheng said speechlessly, "Which eye of yours saw that I'm good at this sort of thing?"
"I don't care whether you're good at it or not. Either way, you have to help me come up with two poems."
Seeing that the two were about to start arguing, Chen Mengjie hurriedly tried to mediate.
"Sir, this kind of thing isn't actually that important."
"If it really comes down to it, I can help you come up with two poems."
"Really?"
At those words, light appeared in Chen Changsheng's eyes.
Chen Mengjie nodded as well. "Of course it's true. This sort of thing, I'm still—"
"Enough!"
Before she could finish, Zhang Bairen, who had been sending messages nearby, interrupted her.
"Little girl, do you really believe he can't do this kind of thing?"
"Do you know this fellow has another nickname, 'Perfect Young Master'? Do you know that he was the one who led Supreme Sage onto his path back then?"
"He was proficient in nearly everything—zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Coming up with a few doggerel poems would be child's play for him."
"And there's a saying passed around among our group."
"'Better believe there are ghosts in this world than believe Chen Changsheng's mouth.'"
"Don't be fooled by how he spends all day mourning spring and autumn, looking like he's about to kill himself at any moment."
"In truth, this guy has had a bellyful of dirty tricks brewing for ages."
Hearing this, Chen Mengjie looked at Chen Changsheng in confusion.
Because she did not think Chen Changsheng was that kind of person.
Seeing that Chen Mengjie still seemed unconvinced, Zhang Bairen put away his communication token and said, "Little girl, you'd better believe it. I'd bet you that this fellow has already thought