All the men widened their eyes, looking incredulously at the rice paper in Lord Sacrificial Officer's hands. Even the brothers, Mo Yuanlin and Mo Yuanhao, had a flash of shock in their eyes.
How could that useless person write such an extraordinary poem?
There must be something wrong.
Yun Wanyao's tightly held heart relaxed slightly. Fortunately, nothing unexpected happened. This poem didn't differ by a single word from her younger sister's heartfelt voice.
There should be no further unexpected incidents.
Ah Tang's title of the first talented woman is likely preserved.
"Ah Yao, is this really a poem by Su Qianxue? I can hardly believe it."
Mo Zhaozhao, like a marionette, looked at Yun Wanyao dazedly and mechanically, feeling sweat for Jiang Zitang in her heart.
Although she didn't understand poetry, she vaguely felt that Su Qianxue's two poems were much more outstanding than Jiang Zitang's.
Yun Wanyao looked at her, frowned, and said, "I can hardly believe it as well."
