Seeing this, Wang Jingze said, "Sir, it's almost noon. Why don't we have someone bring lunch over first, and then compose the poem in the afternoon?"
"No need, it's just a poem, I can write one with ease."
This remark drew sneers from many people.
Writing poetry is not like speaking; there's no such thing as just spouting it off.
There are indeed people who can compose a poem in seven steps, but it's definitely not something someone like Tang Huan could do.
Many people share this view, especially Lei Yan, who focuses all his attention on Tang Huan.
Things were going more and more in the direction he had expected, and he was just waiting for Tang Huan to finish the poem so that he could take the opportunity to step forward.
After all, Tang Huan's arrogant attitude had already aroused the dissatisfaction of many scholars.
What kind of poem should I write?
Tang Huan felt the boat beneath him rocking.
He gazed at the rippling water of the lake, where people's reflections hung suspended beneath the surface.
A bright red sun is fixed in the water.
"Although it doesn't quite fit the current scene, it's passable, and it's truly a fine poem..."
Tang Huan grabbed Li Daikui's hand and said, "I'm telling you, read it out loud."
Li Daikui was immediately filled with excitement. He took a sip of water to moisten his throat and began to prepare.
Tang Huan's voice rang in my ears, and two lines of poetry slowly began to play.
Li Daikui's eyes widened immediately.
Even Li Daikui, who didn't know much about poetry, couldn't help but tremble slightly after hearing these two lines of poetry.
"What are you standing there for!"
Tang Huan urged.
Li Daikui immediately stood up, looked around, clasped his hands in a fist and shouted, "Sir, you have composed two lines of poetry. Please give your critique."
After clearing his throat, Li Daikui shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Drunk, I knew not that the sky was reflected in the water; my boat was filled with dreams that pressed down on the Milky Way."
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