Liu Menggui was taken aback by her answer, then smiled, but still asked uncertainly in a low voice, "Miss Jiang, do you really think so?"
Wan Ge nodded, and Liu Menggui instinctively grabbed her wrist: "He's not a good man, Miss Jiang, you must not like him. You can be friends, but please don't fall in love with him."
Based on the other party's reaction just now, Wan Ge had some doubts. Seeing how anxious the other party was, Wan Ge was certain that the person in front of her had also been reborn.
She was just unsure whether the other party didn't want her to marry Feng Yimu because she liked him too much or because she had followed in his footsteps in her past life.
Sometimes, though, one could see the hatred in her eyes when she mentioned Feng Yimu. Perhaps the latter was more likely; she, like herself, was nothing more than a pawn used to bring down the Jiang family.
Now that she has experienced the exact same past life as herself, she is determined to change everything in this life, and she is a crucial character in it.
Without his own affection and the support of the Jiang family, Feng Yimu would never have been able to sit in that position.
…
What convinced Wan Ge that she was like herself was that she had accidentally overheard her conversation with the maid.
"Miss, you haven't found the person you mentioned."
"Alright, I understand. You can go now." Liu Menggui frowned. How could she not find that person?
That shouldn't be the case! How can he hear the question and write the poem if that person isn't here? Or is he being hidden away?
Wan Ge heard her murmur, "Where exactly is that ghostwriter?"
With just this one sentence and this same act of searching for someone, Wan Ge was absolutely certain that the other person had been reborn.
But unexpectedly, besides the two of them, there were others who were reborn.
When Feng Yimu drew the exact same poem as in his previous life, he immediately recited the poem without hesitation. They were certain that Feng Yimu had also been reborn.
The ghostwriter disappeared, and there was a disturbance in his previous life before Feng Yimu was able to answer. The fact is, he received the poem before he could answer.
Although it was only a few lines of poetry, it wasn't easy to remember. It was just that Feng Yimu's learning was shallow because he was not favored and could only learn simple characters. No one would seriously teach him.
In fact, he was still quite intelligent and had a photographic memory. He only glanced at the poem and memorized it.
But in this life, without any ghostwriting or any interludes, he naturally recited the entire poem.
Liu Menggui's face paled. Was he also reborn? Feng Yimu, who had been reborn as an emperor, could he possibly be a match for him?
Liu Menggui was somewhat worried, but then another question came to mind: with the enemy in the open and us in the dark, it was still uncertain who would emerge victorious.
Thinking of this, Liu Menggui suddenly wanted to keep her disguise even more secure.
Meanwhile, atop a pavilion, a man took a sip of his tea and slowly looked at the person kneeling before him, saying, "You say you're his ghostwriter, that he can't write poetry without you? Then what is he doing now?"
"My lord, spare me! My lord, spare me!" The man kneeling on the ground kowtowed hurriedly, "I don't know how this happened. His Highness the Third Prince really has no talent."
Although he can read and understands quite a few principles, poetry and prose are not his forte at all.
"So the song he's talking about now wasn't written by you?"
The man nodded quickly: "Although it looks somewhat familiar, it was definitely not written by a commoner like me."
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