The Emperor's voice rang out again, filled with even more anger, "Where is Luo Jisheng?"
No one dared to speak up, as speaking might bring misfortune upon themselves in the Emperor's current state of anger. Everyone silently lowered their heads.
Yan Jingkui, slightly lifting his head and seeing his fellow students' resentful glances, braced himself and said, "Your Majesty, he has gone home and is not here."
The Emperor's cold gaze fixed on Yan Jingkui. The once pleasant event of the Poetry and Rites Competition had turned sour. If it weren't for these two young men's fathers working on the construction of the Wei River embankments, he wouldn't have let them off so easily.
Yan Jingkui was trembling with fear. It was as if he had fallen into an abyss. He suddenly understood. They thought they were smart, but in fact, others could see through their little tricks at a glance. In fact, they were stupid.
