When Jun Yu arrived, he saw this scene.
Song Wanwan and Song Manman, the two sisters, stood by the table, on which lay a spread of fine rice paper. Both held high-quality purple ink brushes in their hands.
The two were nodding their heads and muttering something, seemingly preparing to compose poetry.
But they had yet to put pen to paper.
Their previous head-shaking seemed to be mere brewing. Once Jun Yu came over, the sisters finished brewing and immediately got into the spirit.
The brush moved smoothly across the paper.
In no time, each sister's paper had a few lines of scrawled writing that looked like chicken scratch.
It was truly a sight too sad to behold, difficult to witness directly.
Jun Yu spared only a glance before retracting his gaze, his brow twitched, and he asked, "Ladies, what is this?"
Song Wanwan said, "We're composing poetry. Perhaps the seventeenth Prince is interested as well? Why not join us?"
Song Wanwan warmly extended the invitation.
