After Xia ping 'an finished reciting the poem, the expression on aunt Gongsun's face became complicated. Aunt Gongsun looked at the lake outside the boat with a little disappointment and frustration as she muttered to herself, " the Golden millet is piled up in the South, and the trees are already arched. The grass in the qu Tang city is bleak. The banquet ends in a hurry, the moon rises from the East when the joy is extreme." These two lines of the poem, unknowingly, two drops of tears fell from her eyes.
In the pleasure boat, everyone looked at Xia ping 'an, then at aunt Gongsun. Those who had not finished their poems stopped helplessly and stopped struggling. In such a short time, even if they could come up with another poem, it would not be better than the one that Mei Zheng had just finished. Since that was the case, why should they bring it out and make a fool of themselves?
Moreover, judging from aunt Gongsun's expression, she had clearly been moved by this poem.
