Cui Yuanzhao said in a deep voice, "Send someone to urge them..."

Outside the restaurant, many customers craned their necks to peer inside, all looking at the same spot: the staircase leading down from the second floor.

The only way for Tang Huan to appear is from that place.

Suddenly, someone walked in from outside.

Someone was jostled and was about to curse when they recognized the person and immediately shut up.

Those were Cui Yuanzhao's men.

Zhang Da entered the restaurant and anxiously headed to the second floor.

Not long after, people saw Zhang Da and another man come downstairs.

Everyone recognized the man; it was Li Daikui, Tang Huan's attendant.

He didn't do much; he just asked the waiter at the restaurant for some paper and then had someone prepare pen and ink.

Then he took his things upstairs.

"Lord Tang is awake?"

"He's going to start writing poetry!"

People gleaned sufficient information from this scene.

In the room on the second floor, Qin Yu looked at Tang Huan, who was yawning incessantly and whose face was slightly flushed, and his expression was not good.

Is it really possible to write in this state?

Tang Huan sat upright at the table, her mind filled with complex thoughts.

He was considering what poem to write when, for some reason, he thought of Lord Fan.

"How similar we are! Isn't Danzhou to you just like Qihuai County to me...?"

Tang Huan murmured, "A traveler often feels sorrow in autumn, a thousand miles away..."

A sense of sorrow welled up in my heart.

From beginning to end, I was always the guest.

Fueled by the alcohol, Tang Huan gripped the brush and wrote freely.

The not-so-formal handwriting gradually emerged on the paper.

After finishing writing, Tang Huan threw down the pen and casually picked up the paper, handing it to Qin Yu.

"This is?"

Even though Qin Yu had guessed what Tang Huan was going to do from his request for writing brushes, paper, and inkstones, he still couldn't quite believe it when he saw Tang Huan wielding the brush with such skill.

You just wrote a poem like that?

It couldn't have been used just anywhere, could it?

After all, Tang Huan was asleep the whole time. How could he possibly write poetry in a dream? Unless he could write poetry in his dreams, it was impossible for him to do so.

"Aren't they all waiting for me to write the poem? Then give it to them. They're all making such a racket that I can't sleep."