"Alright, this move is not only useless; it's actually self-defeating. If you could write a qualified poem, would you not have passed the assessment when the Academy was recruiting disciples a few days ago?"
"All you had to do back then was compose one on the spot. Why wait until now?"
Zhao Rong turned and returned to the side gate of the Academy.
Just now, Teacher Chen had left, taking only a portion of the scholars he saw potential in, yet many still remained by the side gate waiting.
Zhao Rong waited again with them, but this time he did not linger in the back. Instead, he pushed forward, seeking a better spot to seize an opportunity.
He frowned slightly, looking at the open wooden door.
