The little maid stomped her foot, looking at Yi Qianqian, and said, "Miss, Master Duan's favorite White Plum Blossom Lamp!"
Yi Qianqian snapped out of her thoughts, her face somewhat pale, she pressed her lips together, and after a long time, she looked at the shopkeeper and asked, "Could I see the three poems written by that girl?"
The shopkeeper glanced at her suspiciously, "Just now, when that girl was writing poems, didn't you watch?"
Yi Qianqian's expression paused for a moment, then she shook her head.
She was firm in her belief that Shen Qinglan couldn't possibly write anything good, so she didn't bother to watch, only wanted to see the joke. Therefore, she had no idea what Shen Qinglan wrote.
The shopkeeper hesitated for a moment but still handed over the paper, "Be careful, miss, don't damage it!"
On this paper, whether poetry or handwriting, in the shopkeeper's view, it was a precious item worth cherishing.
