After the scholar holding the folding fan finished reciting the poem, the people around him immediately burst into thunderous laughter.

Someone laughed and said, "Brother Song, what kind of poem are you reciting? Your writing is worse than that of a young boy."

The scholar, who called Song "brother," waved his hand, and the folding fan in his hand instantly unfolded.

He gently waved his folding fan, glanced around at the assembled literati, and asked with a gleam in his eyes:

"Everyone, what did you think of my recitation of that poem?"

The little dumpling gripped the incense burner tightly in its hand, its whole body tense up.

She knew that poem all too well; it was one she had written herself!

Little Tuanzi had no idea how the poem had gotten out and become a source of amusement for the literati in the teahouse.

Her heart was pounding, and she was really looking forward to how those literary uncles would evaluate her poems.

After Brother Song finished asking his question, another burst of laughter erupted in the teahouse.

"Haha, this was obviously written by a foodie."

"And he's also an uncultured foodie."

"The entire poem is devoid of any literary merit."

The waiter pouring water in the teahouse smacked his lips and said very rudely:

"Bullshit!"

Everyone's words were poured into the little dumpling's ears.

The little dumpling put down the incense burner in her hand, feeling both ashamed and angry.

She had been living away from home for a long time and didn't know many characters. She knew she had no education and no literary talent as they talked about.

However, being criticized like this in public still hurt her young heart.

When Fan Hai heard the people inside talking about his young master like that, he was so angry that he wanted to tear the teahouse down.

He covered the little girl's ears to prevent her from hearing those harsh words again.

As the laughter of the literati subsided, Brother Song, fanning himself, said again:

"You might be wondering where I got this poem from."

"If I told you, you would be absolutely shocked."

His words piqued everyone's curiosity, and they all took a step closer to him, eagerly asking:

Where did you see that?

Although Fan Hai covered the little dumpling's ears, he could still hear some sounds.

She took Fan Hai's hand away; she wanted to hear how her poems had been circulated.

Brother Song didn't say anything until everyone pressed him a few more times, then he mysteriously said:

"This was written by one of the applicants for admission to Puxi College this year."

A collective sigh rippled through the crowd.

"Tsk tsk, with this kind of writing talent, he dares to apply to Puxi Academy!"

"That's right. The entrance essays for Puxi Academy every year are written so beautifully, they're almost on par with the top three essays in the imperial examinations."

"Exactly, with such poor writing skills, he definitely won't pass the exam."

Brother Song, with a crooked mouth, shook his head and said:

"You guys probably wouldn't believe it, but these are the people who were admitted this year."

"ah???"

A scream erupted in the teahouse, leaving everyone's jaws dropping in astonishment.

"How could that be?! Brother Song, you're not just spouting nonsense based on hearsay, are you?!"

Upon hearing this, Brother Song also became anxious.

“How could I possibly believe hearsay? My uncle is a lecturer at Puxi Academy and one of the examiners for this year’s entrance exam. He told me it himself!”

"Moreover, this poem was selected by the newly appointed Academician Wu, who insisted on it despite the opposition of others!"

The group looked at each other with a mixture of belief and skepticism.

"Are you sure? This person was personally selected by Academician Wu?"

Brother Song snapped his fan shut and said firmly, "Of course! If you don't believe me, just wait and see when the results are posted tomorrow! This article will definitely be among them!"

Some people who didn't believe it decided to wait until the results were released tomorrow to verify it themselves.

Some of those who already believed in Brother Song frowned, looking puzzled.

The little girl stood there blankly until the stall owner spoke, at which point she came to her senses.

"Little girl, would you like this incense burner?"

Fan Hai took out twenty copper coins from his waist and handed them to the stall owner.

"I'll take it."

After saying that, he picked up the little dumpling and headed towards the Mu family's house.

The little girl, still holding the incense burner in both hands, asked Fan Hai blankly:

"Brother Fanhai, did that person mean that I got into Puxi Academy?"

Fan Hai nodded and said:

"If what he said is true, then it does mean that you have been admitted to Puxi Academy."

The little dumpling told him in surprise:

"Brother Fanhai, no, no, what I submitted to the academy was the essay that Father taught me, not that poem!"