Liuliu cleared her throat before speaking. "Young master at the back, how about composing a poem too? Oh, yes, I mean the young master dressed in white."
At once, the people in front of Wenlong cleared a path. He wasted no time and walked straight up.
He cupped his hands in greeting to the teachers seated above. The young women beside Liuliu gasped aloud in surprise.
The girls whispered among themselves. How could a man be so beautiful? He was as beautiful as a woman-even they felt they paled in comparison.
Seeing her companions lose their composure, Liuliu quickly coughed loudly to ease the awkwardness. "Young master, please compose a poem on the theme of solitude for the teachers to appreciate."
Liuliu's face remained expressionless, but her eyes held a smile. Wenlong knew her little schemes all too well.
You want to drag me out here and watch me embarrass myself, do you? Then I'll use poetry to slap your face swollen.
At that moment, he wanted very much to tell everyone at the top of his lungs that, when it came to composing poetry, everyone present was trash.
But he dared not say it, afraid he would get beaten up. He knew Liuliu's personality very well. If he actually said it and got mobbed, she would absolutely stand aside and watch.
Forget it. I'll just enjoy myself in secret. Why should I care whether they're happy? All these scholars, teachers included, think their poems can compete with the Three Hundred Tang Poems? They're dreaming, aren't they?
As he thought about it, a smug expression crept onto his face without his realizing.
Seeing Wenlong's expression, Liuliu chuckled inwardly too. *Just wait until the teachers tear your poem apart until there's not an inch of skin left intact. Let's see whether