Nan Yichu and Nan Kezhi both turned to stare at their eldest sister. Although she was a bit narcissistic, it was the truth, and there was no way to refute it.
"Mr. Mo, I really didn't expect you to travel such a long way to Dongling. Since you're here, why not stay a little longer and help the students of Dongling with their questions?" The old emperor looked at the old man beside the Crown Prince of Nan Jing with his shrewd eyes.
Mr. Mo smiled politely, “Your Majesty is too kind. I have heard that your country has produced a great poet, and I am quite curious about him.”
Xiao Chen frowned and glanced at him sideways, a warning in his eyes.
Mr. Mo was also very apprehensive. He could not resist the Crown Prince's pressure, and he had to complete the task entrusted to him by the Empress. He dared not offend either of them.
It's just that the letter from Princess Dongling was similar to the task assigned by the Empress.
The old emperor's smile deepened at the words "Poet Immortal." He glanced at the prime minister and said, "The title 'Poet Immortal' is just something that was casually spread among the people. Mr. Mo, you don't need to take it seriously."
"Oh? Your Majesty is too modest. I have read all of the poems by the Poet Immortal, and they are indeed exquisite. I admire them greatly."
Mr. Mo paused, then looked puzzled. "But that poem, 'With a Title,' I don't know what the Poet Immortal meant. It's said that he wrote it in class for his dream teacher, but after carefully studying it, I feel it's more like..."
"More like what?" the old emperor asked, noticing that Mr. Mo's words had abruptly stopped.
Mr. Mo smiled, seemingly calm and composed, but in reality, he was filled with anxiety and fear, as evidenced by the fine sweat on his forehead.
The Crown Prince's imposing aura was simply too strong.
"Your Majesty, may I ask who the Poet Immortal is? Could you please tell me what this poem is trying to express?" In the end, Mr. Mo did not dare to say more and could only throw the question to the Poet Immortal.
If the poet still insists that it is a remembrance of his mentor, then it is not too late for him to speak again.
The old emperor raised an eyebrow with a sly smile, his gaze fixed on the prime minister with a knowing grin. "Prime minister, why don't you let your poet have a word?"
In an instant, all eyes fell on Nanqianyue.
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