Alright!
The little maid Qiao'er was rather helpless too. You were the young lady; what you said went.
Let me think of a way to figure out how to slip this poem to the new groom in full view of everyone.
Meanwhile, in the central courtyard.
Wang Shouzhe sat leisurely upon a stone bench, sinking into deep thought.
To be honest, Yuanrui's poem had put a great deal of pressure on him.
Logically speaking, as a transmigrator with ancient poems and lyrics packed in his head, he could casually pull out any timeless masterpiece and crush Liu Yuanrui's poem in an instant.
But this was, after all, his own wedding. He still wanted to find a way to compose a poem himself. Even if it was not particularly good, it would still be his own work. Copying poems to sweet-talk his wife just felt dull.
Liu Yuanrui and the others did not urge him. They merely watched their brother-in-law rack his brains with grins on their faces. He knew that composing a poem was no easy task, especially a good one—it required slow deliberation.
Just then.
The little maid Qiao'er hurried out from the rear courtyard, squeezed through the crowd, and slammed hard into Wang Shouzhe.
"Ah! New groom, I'm sorry. I was walking too hurriedly. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
As Wang Shouzhe stood there dumbfounded, the girl deftly stuffed a sheet of paper into his hand, then winked at him as if to say, you know what this means.
Then she sprinted away.
That girl truly came and went like a gust of wind.
Wang Shouzhe could neither laugh nor cry. It seemed that the person in the rear courtyard could no longer sit still and had sent a little maid to deliver him a poem.
Wasn't