Having said that, Qiao Songshan ignored the audience's reaction and began to recite:
"Night rain keeps me restless, as the west wind chills the traveler's garb."
Qiao Songshan's voice sounded out slowly, his tone resonant.
He stood tall and straight, his eyes devoid of any constraint or embarrassment, filled instead with ease and carefree expressiveness. Clearly, he was confident in the poem Cheng Guang had written.
As soon as he started speaking, everyone felt a slight tremor in their hearts.
Even the warriors, who usually had little interest in poetry, couldn't help but turn their heads when they heard the verses recited by Qiao Songshan.
The mere opening line was enough to evoke a lonely atmosphere of a rainy night, as if one found oneself standing in silence, alone in the pouring rain.
"Is the opening line really so extraordinary?"
"Hiss, the choice of words and sentiment is just perfect. What comes next?"
"Everyone be quiet and just listen!"
