"Hey, Heavenly Prodigies! Every last one of you, listen up!
How were the verses I just composed?
Between that bitch Yang and me, who was better?!"
Zhou Duoduo planted both hands on her hips and raised her chin high, her face brimming with arrogant, domineering pride. She shouted at the top of her lungs, barely able to contain her smug excitement, itching to smash the joy of victory into everyone's faces and savor every last drop of this sweeping triumph.
Yet the Heavenly Prodigies in the square remained deathly silent. Everyone hung their heads in dejection. Not one answered, and not one dared raise their eyes to meet hers.
This was hardly a question of victory or defeat. She was killing them and crushing their hearts besides!
She had swindled them out of all their resources, possessions, and savings, and now she wanted to force them to admit her victory in public. Bitter resentment clogged their chests, almost driving them mad.
"Hey, hey, hey! Have you all gone mute?!
Are you deaf or dumb?
Why don't you even dare say a word?!"
When nobody responded, Zhou Duoduo's slender brows shot up. She immediately turned her attack on Yang Jihua, who stood pale-faced among the crowd. Head held high, she looked down her nose at her, every inch a peacock flaunting its plumage after winning a fight:
"Bitch Yang, you tell me!
Were your verses better, or were mine?
Which one of us won?!"
"Bitch Zhou! Stop getting so carried away!"
Yang Jihua's eyes were bloodshot, her hair slightly disheveled. Looking almost crazed, she roared hysterically,
"I know perfectly well that you don't possess such world-shaking talent! There's no way you could compose verses that exquisite!
Tell us right now! Where did you plagiarize them from?!"
She could not accept