The night was deep, yet a courtyard hidden behind the garden still glowed with light.
"Passion remains in foolish laughter."
Xiao Chong finished writing the last character for "laughter," put down his pen, and quietly looked at the poem on the paper.
As for how impressive this poem might be, it's not necessarily so; compared to the other seven-character and five-character poems Lin Wanwan has recited, there's quite a gap.
But the carefree, wandering spirit within the lines is really captivating. If one didn't know that the person who wrote this poem was a woman, just by looking at the lyrics, one would definitely think it was the masterpiece of a middle-aged ranger from the Jianghu.
After quietly gazing for a while and savoring the tune once more, Xiao Chong slightly smiled, his expression inexplicable.
"My lord, it's late, rest now. You have to meet Elder Huang tomorrow," advised Shuqin, who was standing by.
Xiao Chong turned calmly and said, "Indeed, it's late. Let's sleep."
