"How strange. During every poetry gathering before, I always felt like a stick of incense burned down in the blink of an eye, leaving nowhere near enough time to compose poetry. How is it that this stick of incense hasn't burned out yet today?" Lin Wan asked, resting her chin in her hands.
"That's completely normal," Zhao Qinghuan said. "At past gatherings, you had to prepare your own poems, which is why time felt so short. This time, we only need to sit back and wait, so naturally time slows down. Of course, the most important thing is that Young Master's poems are simply too good, and we're all eager for everyone else to see them just so we can watch their expressions."
Listening to the two of them, Lou Mengqian didn't stay idle and added, "Counting the previous five poems plus these three today, Young Master has written eight poems this month alone. Furthermore, every single one of them is a masterpiece for the ages—something many people couldn't write a single one of in a lifetime!"
Chapter 34