The word "处" hung in the air for a long while, ears leaned in, mouths stretched the sound "处" like pulling taffy. Duan Siyuan raised his cup toward Chen Yi, giving a knowing glance. A group of scholars also turned to look at him.
This seemed to challenge Chen Yi to a poetic duel, to drink and revel together...
Chen Yi felt his scalp tighten. Ordinary Taoists had no other affairs beyond cultivating their Dao and were masters of all arts—music, chess, calligraphy, painting. Creating poetry came effortlessly for them; whether it was the likes of Lu Dongbin, Bai Yuchan, or closer to the Taichua Goddess Yin Weiyin. Yet, Chen Yi had always been a rustic sort, what did he know about poetry?
The crowd stretched the sound "处" as if pulling it into intestines, but Chen Yi remained silent for a while. Li Chenghang seemed to realize and interjected, "This verse is too challenging. A natural couplet is heaven-sent. Master Daoist, simply let spontaneity guide you..."
