Fang Yun smiled and shook his head. He had never expected the Farewell Spring Literary Gathering to be so outrageous.
Still, those attending the Farewell Spring Literary Gathering were young people, after all. As long as there was nothing wrong with their scholarship, a little outrageous behavior in other respects did no harm.
"Now, the three thousand new students may begin writing. Afterward, we will select tables one by one, critique their poems and essays, and present them to everyone. Also, everyone at a selected table must submit their poems and essays as quickly as possible. Late submissions will count as failures. Do you think that's unfair? Good, because this is the Farewell Spring Literary Gathering."
Zhang Zhixing wore a mischievous smile, and many of the senior students wore similar expressions.
The new students shook their heads, sighed, or smiled bitterly, but there was nothing they could do.
The new students at the three hundred tables all set to work. Some spread out paper, some ground ink, and some took up their brushes. Quite a few ate the food on their tables while pondering what to write.
While the new students composed their poems, Sun Renbing stepped forward and recounted stories from previous Farewell Spring Literary Gatherings. Nostalgia appeared on some of the senior students' faces.
Fang Yun held his brush but had yet to put it to paper, while the others at his table discussed things in low voices.
"What are you planning to write? There are so many kinds of unusual poetry, but writing one well is difficult, especially with all these conditions. Worst of all, it can't be too poorly written, or we'll have to go to Kong City and play pigs."
"Look, even Void Sage Fang is having trouble putting brush to paper, let alone us."