"Young friend, wake up."
Feng Jizi flicked his fingers, and a wisp of fresh breeze drilled into Liu Zheng's nostrils.
"Whew~"
Liu Zheng opened his eyes, sweat pouring from his pores, thick as mud.
"How does it feel to be roasted by your own life flame?"
Feng Jizi asked with a smile.
"Uncomfortable. It reminds me of a poem."
He shook his head and said.
"Oh? What poem?"
Feng Jizi asked with curiosity.
"Only see the moon cold and sun warm, cooking lifespan."
Liu Zheng recited.
"The alternation of sun and moon using the word 'cooking,' this poem is quite mysterious. Who wrote it?"
Feng Jizi couldn't help but ask.
With Liu Zheng's level of writing couplets, he naturally knew this poem wasn't written by Liu Zheng.
"It was written by the Tang Dynasty poet Li He, who was nicknamed 'Poetry Ghost.'"
"Poetry Ghost, indeed a fitting name. That later generations have this poem and this person shows the unbroken literary lineage of Huaxia, wonderful, wonderful."
Feng Jizi sighed.
