Yu Xiaolian flashed a toothy grin at Su Jingchen before pulling a thick, black signature pen from her sleeve.
With quick swipes, she copied Master Su Shi's winter scene poem.
Having finished one poem, seeing the incense hadn't burned out, Yu Xiaolian eagerly continued to write a second poem.
When Yu Xiaolian finished the second poem, the incense still had a small segment unburnt, yet she didn't wait and gleefully handed the two poems to Dean Zhao.
Seeing this, Ma Xiyue hurriedly handed in her poem too, placing it just above Yu Xiaolian's.
Reluctantly, Dean Zhao had to read Ma Xiyue's first.
"Winter descends, clouds and mist shroud, cold rain falls, chilling and desolate. Wandering alone, lost in confusion, the future is uncertain and unpredictable."
Zhao Zhiyun, after finishing reading, glanced at Ma Xiyue, "This poem seems more suited to one in office, at a time of bewilderment. How do you, at such a young age, have this reflection?"
