Hu Yonghua naturally knew his own level. He squinted and smiled, "Then this poem... what does Xiao Meng think?"
Poem?
Meng Lang was taken aback.
Why has it turned to poetry again?
He glanced once more at the calligraphy on the table...
"A good poem, with ambition soaring to the skies, quite impressive."
"Hmm! It seems Xiao Meng understands poetry as well.
On the wind's gentle support, soaring high into the sky, how many on the ground, can see me in the azure heavens...
To achieve both martial and civil prowess, to succeed and become renowned, who doesn't have some lofty ambitions when young? Haha…"
Hu Yonghua looked at Meng Lang and smiled, but his gaze was somewhat meaningful.
Meng Lang was a bit dazed by his gaze but quickly realized, and found it amusing.
The other was ostensibly talking about poetry, but was actually telling him...
Fame and fortune, who can resist them?
There are no Saints in the world anymore.
