Murong Feiyan could not help feeling another tremor in her heart at his words.
Hu Xiaotian had long since discovered that girls in any era had a particular weakness for the artistic type. In his opinion, the highest form of artistic sophistication was a return to simplicity and authenticity, but reaching that realm would make one rather too reserved. To catch a girl's eye, one still needed to be a little frivolous and flamboyant, to show off a few seductive turns of phrase now and then. These utterly un nourishing words and verses could nevertheless pluck a girl's heartstrings with ease. The artistic type? Hu Xiaotian scorned himself from the bottom of his heart. What a pretentious bastard!
Hu Xiaotian was no longer merely a pretentious bastard; he was a repeat offender. He uttered fresh, sentimental lines and occasionally plagiarized Tang poetry and Song lyrics, mixing them with his cynical, spoiled-rich-boy air. The result was a distinctive style that truly stood apart in this era. Hu Xiaotian reckoned he could just barely qualify as a crane among chickens.
Murong Feiyan was different from the talented Huo Xiaoru, after all. Her first impression of Hu Xiaotian had been that of a spoiled official's son, and only later had she gradually discovered his artistic side. Although she now had to admit that he possessed some talent, she still considered it nothing more than a crooked knack unfit for respectable company. Watching his smug expression, she could not help grumbling inwardly. Shallow. All he likes to do is show off in front of people.
After spending more than two hours in the jolting carriage, Hu Xiaotian finally grew tired of its stuffiness and returned to his Snowflake Horse. Riding felt better than sitting in the carriage, but would holding this posture for too