Zhao Hao buried his head in the quilt and refused to answer no matter how Xuelang banged on the door and shouted outside.

It was not until Zhao Shouzheng came back in the middle of the night and finally persuaded Xuelang, who was shouting at the top of his lungs, to leave the house.

As Xuelang was carried out by the Gao family father and son, he shouted towards the west room:

"Mr. Zhao, I know you don't like to be famous for nothing. You are truly a man of Wei and Jin style! But for the sake of Ming poetry, I will never allow you to be so low-key! I swear to make you famous, to make you famous in Jinling, no, famous throughout the Ming Dynasty!"

Zhao Hao was in bed with tears streaming down his face. He sighed and said, "Monk, oh monk, do you think I don't want to be famous? I can only copy poems, not write them. What if I need to write a poem for a given topic, or give comments and corrections to someone? Wouldn't I be exposed immediately?"

He was not afraid of copying poems, but he was afraid that his copying would become a joke in the end, so he made up his mind not to admit that he wrote it... At least before he learned how to write poems, he would never admit it.

As for the future, if I really learn to write poetry, anyone who doesn’t recognize me as my grandson will be my grandson!

After seeing Xuelang off, Zhao Shouzheng walked to the west door and apologized through the door: "This time, I, as a father, acted on my own and caused great trouble for my son..."

Zhao Hao really didn't want to continue listening to the evil sound, so he pretended to be asleep and started snoring.

"Oh, look how tired this child is. He's even snoring..." Zhao Shouzheng shook his head in pain and tiptoed back to the house.

~~

Whenever night falls, the Da Baoen Temple Pagoda standing next to Yuhuatai will be sparkling all over, emitting colorful glass-like light. It is so sacred in the night that it even obscures the bright moon in the sky.

This nine-story, eight-sided glazed pagoda has two windows on each side, totaling 144 windows. The window covers are made of extremely thin clam shells, called "Mingwa", which have excellent light transmittance.

There are 100 monks on duty in the tower, responsible for lighting the oil lamps behind each window at dusk, adding oil, trimming the wicks, and wiping the tiles. To ensure that the tower lights are bright every night, each lamp needs 6 liang 4 qian of oil every night, and the total amount of oil consumed by the entire glazed tower is 1,530 kilograms per month.

Xuelang stood quietly outside his own abode, looking at the glazed pagoda that illuminated the night sky. After a long while, he sighed and said, "Without this pagoda, the long night would be bleak. Without donor Zhao, the poetry world of the Ming Dynasty would also be as long as the night..."

After being distracted for a while, he stepped into the monastery with the help of the little monk.

The furnishings in the temple looked very simple, with only a table, an incense burner, a painting, a cushion, a zither and a bookshelf.

However, the five-foot-long table was made of finely carved agarwood. The gold-inlaid Boshan furnace on the table burned deep-sea ambergris. The pine and stone zither on the table was made by Emperor Huizong of Song. The bookshelves and floors were all made of red sandalwood, and the books on the shelves were all ancient books from the Tang and Song dynasties, and bamboo slips from the Qin and Han dynasties.

The only thing that seems a little out of place is the painting on the wall called "Lady Playing the Flute" by Tang Yin.

The painting is beautiful, and the beauty playing the flute is also pleasing to the eye, but this is a peaceful Buddhist place...

Xuelang, however, enjoyed it.

With the help of the little monk, he took off his robes, sat upright on the cushion, and took a sip of the Mingqian tea that had just been shipped from Longjing yesterday.

"Publish these five poems together with the Butterfly Loves Flowers. Find the best bookstore, use the best paper and the best woodblocks. I want them to spread all over Jinling within three days!"

Xuelang put down the teacup, took out the five poems from his sleeve and handed them to the young monk, then said with great regret: "It's a pity that the poem that seems to be "Mulan's Ballad" only has one sentence, 'If life could only be as good as the first encounter'. I have no chance to read the whole poem. Donor Zhao is really cruel."

As he said this, his eyes suddenly lit up and he said, "I got it. Let's use these seven words as the name of the collection of poems."

"Is it 'If life could only be as it was when we first met'?" Xuelang's young monk also had considerable literary attainments. Hearing this, he showed a fascinated look and said, "You beat me. You beat me with just seven words."

"Do I need your reminder?" Xuelang glared at the little monk and said sincerely, "Although I am very talented, how can the light of a firefly compete with the brightness of the bright moon?"

"Wow, brother has actually learned to be humble." The young monk said in surprise.

"Stop talking nonsense." Xuelang tapped his bald head and asked, "Have you figured out the situation of Mr. Zhao and his son?"

"I figured it out." The young monk handed over a pile of papers he had just copied. "Please have a look, brother."

Xuelang drank tea with a relaxed expression while looking at the papers. Gradually, a solemn look appeared on his handsome face like a virgin.

After a long while, Xuelang slammed the pile of papers on the table and said indignantly, "Gao the thief suppressed the genius for his own selfishness and left the Ming poetry world without a leader! He is truly a sinner for all eternity, and I shall arrest and execute him!"

"Brother, you are angry again..." The young monk frowned as he wiped the tea splashed on the table.

"I know, but how can I tolerate this?" Xuelang was still furious. He stood up and paced back and forth on the sandalwood floor, saying, "I was wondering why Mr. Zhao was so low-key and refused to admit that he wrote a poem! It turns out that he was afraid that his reputation would be too great and Gao Xinzheng would retaliate against him!"

After thinking for a moment, Xuelang ordered in a deep voice: "Please put this poetry collection on hold to avoid causing trouble for Donor Zhao."

As he said this, he sat down at the table, rolled up his sleeves and said:

"Yanmo, I want to write a letter to Alliance Leader Wang, asking him to do justice for my poetry!"

~~

In the morning, when Zhao Hao got up, Zhao Shouzheng had disappeared. He was probably afraid to see his son...

Zhao Hao secretly reflected in his heart, wondering if he had been too strict with his father recently, and felt that the parent-son relationship was a little strained.

Alas, it’s mainly because I’m anxious about the Autumn Examination…

However, this seems to be not conducive to the candidates' preparation for the exam. It seems that I should reflect on myself and try to provide Zhao Shouzheng with a relaxed preparation environment.

After washing up, he planned to call Old Man Gao to go to the breakfast stall.

But suddenly he remembered that today was the day he had an appointment with Tang Youde, so he did not go out.

Just when I was about to ask Gao Wu to go to the street to buy breakfast, I heard a knock on the door.

"The door is not closed, just come in." Old man Gao responded.

Then a girl named Qiaoqiao, wearing a green coarse cloth skirt and a wooden hairpin in her hair, came in carrying a heavy bamboo basket.

Gao Wu hurried forward and took the bamboo basket.

"Oh, Qiaoqiao is here to bring you food again." Old Man Gao said with a smile, "Your brother has gone to jail with the master early in the morning, so he can't eat the food you brought him."

"My father asked me to bring it here. It doesn't matter who eats it." Qiaoqiao secretly made a face at Old Man Gao, threatening him not to talk nonsense.

"Boss Fang is too polite." Zhao Hao greeted Qiaoqiao with a smile, "Miss Qiaoqiao, would you like to join us?"

"I'm older than you, so you should call me sister." Qiaoqiao emphasized seriously as she put out the steaming steamer and soup bowls.

"Heh..." Zhao Hao ignored him, picked up a small porcelain bottle, poured some strange powder into the soup bowl, stirred it evenly, and then drank it in small sips.

Seeing him drinking the soup calmly and elegantly, Qiaoqiao somehow missed the poor boy who couldn't even afford buns.

"Is there something on my face?" Zhao Hao picked up a soup dumpling and looked at Qiaoqiao strangely.

"No, I'm going back." Qiaoqiao blushed and turned away.

"No need to send me off tomorrow morning." Zhao Hao said behind her.

Qiaoqiao’s face turned pale.

"I'll go to your house to eat." Zhao Hao added.

Qiaoqiao's face turned even redder.

ps. The first update is here, please vote for me and give me a review~~~