Shen Qingning sat to one side, watching Lin Lu raise her little hand and tap Cheng Zhu. She couldn't help but think, "Are you guys flirting?"
But to be honest, her curiosity had piqued about what exactly Cheng Zhu had written on the paper.
Cheng Zhu then turned to Lin Lu who was standing behind him and said, "How is that unreasonable? I'm asking you, isn't this a poem?"
"Who says it's not a poem just because it's a bit short?" Cheng Zhu spoke confidently.
The affair of a writer, could that be called short?
It's called concise!
After all, Lin Lu was a college student. Though these days, college students might be the best examples of the phrase "clearly foolish," she still possessed basic appreciation skills.
Whether a poem is good or bad really depends on who you ask, as people have different tastes.
But to say it's not even a poem, that surely wasn't justified.
Everyone else had become curious and crowded around to see what Cheng Zhu had written.
