Zhi'er stood up: "Hey! Lord Xu!"
Xu Zhong didn't even turn his head.
Yuan Ruxin saw it and mocked with a sneer: "Why pretend to be so noble, winning but not taking the money."
Zhi'er, who was always good-natured, was immediately displeased upon hearing this.
With a "slap," her small hand hit the table.
Startling Yuan Ruxin to quickly look at her: "What are you slapping for!?"
In Zhi'er's clear dark eyes, there was full of anger.
"How can you speak like that? He earned first place by skill, yet you publicly mock and doubt that he can't afford to study, accusing his poetry of being fake."
"Scholars have their pride. Maybe he attended this poetry competition today as a last resort, and you saying that in public, where is his dignity."
Yuan Zhen softly advised: "Junior Sister, calm down; be careful not to hurt your hand from hitting."
Zhi'er ignored him and only glared at Yuan Ruxin: "Being pampered and arrogant is your personal choice, but you shouldn't affect others!"
