A voice rang out behind them, probing, and the three seated—Shen Hao and his companions—turned to look. A few paces away, three men approached, all dressed like scholars, the very ones who had been sitting across from them earlier. One of them was even one of those so-called "Seventh Young Masters."
"And you are?" Shen Hao smiled without getting up, not even bothering to straighten in his chair, a picture of nonchalance.
Perhaps because Shen Hao remained seated, the three men frowned slightly. The man in the middle snorted coldly, "Heard Young Master Shen is famed for his literary talent, so we came over to see if your reputation matches reality."
"Oh. So now you've seen for yourself? Suit yourself." Shen Hao dismissed them with a wave, utterly unfazed by their barbed words. A few pampered young lords who scraped by on poetry hardly even registered in his mind. Just responding to them at all was already giving them more face than they deserved.
