Yu Zhenghai looked at the calligraphy paper on the table. Yu Zhenghai, Yu Shangrong, Duanmu Sheng, Mingshi Yin, Zhao Yue, Ye Tianxin, Si Wuya, Zhu Honggong, Ci Yuan'er, Conch. Si Wuya drew circles on their names. When put together, they formed the words for the poem: the bright moon shines over the sea; from far away we share this moment together.
"I never noticed this!" Yu Zhenghai was inwardly shocked by this revelation.
"That's why I suspected master wanted to recruit ten disciples from the very beginning," Si Wuya said.
"Wait." Yu Zhenghai raised a hand. "If what you say is true, why isn't Conch the 'shi' in the poem?"
Si Wuya said, "I've asked Hua Chongyang about this before. This little girl is pure and naïve. She doesn't know her own name."
