The words of Wen Qinghe had barely left his lips when an uproar broke out within the Jade Pavilion.
"Hiss, is that not Wen Qinghe? Who else could it possibly be?"
"This poem is exceptionally crafted; certainly not the work of an unknown. Who is this sage who could compose such fine verse?"
"Didn't Wen Qinghe just say even he couldn't write it? Could it be that there was a Great Confucian Scholar or Master who came here?"
"That's impossible. Not to mention Masters and Great Confucian Scholars wouldn't come to this place, if they truly did, we would have heard something about their arrival."
"What is going on here? Who exactly wrote this poem?"
The crowd was buzzing with discussion, their gazes all falling on the Red-robed Maiden.
Red-robed Maiden, Hong Zhu, faced the crowd with an unchanged expression, a faint warm smile on her face as she slowly began to speak.
"The author of this poem is none other than the Princely Heir."
