...
Alright!
Little maid Qiao'Er also felt helpless; you are the mistress, what you say goes.
Let me think of a way to figure out how to slip this poem to the new groom in front of everyone.
Meanwhile, in the courtyard.
Wang Shouzhe sat leisurely on the stone bench, pondering deeply.
To be honest, Yuan Rui's poem put a lot of pressure on him.
Logically speaking, as a transmigrator, his mind is full of ancient poems. He could easily pull out a famous masterpiece that would effortlessly outshine Liua Yuanrui's poem.
However, ultimately, this is his own wedding, and he still wants to try composing a poem himself. Even if it's not very good, it's still his own creation. Using someone else's poems to deceive his wife just feels lacking.
Liua Yuanrui and the others didn't rush him, they just watched him with smiles as he pondered hard. He knows that composing a poem isn't easy, especially creating a good one requires careful thought.
Just at that moment.
