"…Under the moon, speaking of forefathers by sweet-scented osmanthus, my ancestral oath binds me like new bamboos encircling the phoenix pond…" After Lord Zhang of the Ministry of Rites read the poem twice, he smiled and asked, "Do you all think this poem might be the best of the event?"
Everyone put down their poems and came over to look, then nodded slightly, "The wording lacks a bit, but the poem does show ambition and inheriting one's father's will is indeed a beautiful story."
Zhang Hui nodded, signing with a smile, "Not just that, guess who wrote this poem?"
Some were unwilling to guess and directly leaned over to look at the signature, "Bai Shan? Never heard of him."
Zhang Hui said, "I have heard of him, not just heard, I have met him once."
"Oh, did he send a letter to Lord Zhang?"
