Upon hearing Wu Xuan’s question, Tang Ling inwardly cursed. He knew exactly how his grandson was; his behavior was all too clear. Just when he was trying to figure out how to remedy the situation, Tang Yan's voice interrupted.

“Miss Wu’s words are indeed true. Today, I must confess my feelings to Miss Dongxue. Regardless of what she thinks of me afterward, I will not argue. Someone, bring the ink and paper!”

Tang Ling, already frustrated, was about to lose his patience. "You think you're some kind of literary genius? You've never touched a book in your life, and now you’re trying to compose a poem?" Quickly, Tang Ling realized his mistake—this little brat indeed had read many books, just not the ones one would expect... like the ones hidden under his bed. "Is he really about to write some kind of vulgar poetry?" Tang Ling's blood pressure rose once more.

Soon, a servant brought the writing supplies, and a large sheet of white paper was spread out before Tang Yan.

“Master Tang, shall we begin?” Qin Changdao sneered, a look of disdain flashing in his eyes.

Qin Changdao, despite being only a second-rank martial artist, had superior accomplishments in literature. As a guest elder at the City Lord’s mansion, he had seen his fair share of documents, and his reputation as a scholar was unmatched in Yun City. He looked forward to Tang Yan making a fool of himself by writing poorly and composing an awful poem.

“Miss Dongxue, as I said, I’ve spent three years writing this poem, revising it 5,209 times. Today’s version is the 5,210th, and this number holds special meaning for me,” Tang Yan said, not even acknowledging Qin Changdao’s taunts.

The onlookers began to understand the hidden meaning behind the number 5,210, which resembled “I love you” when pronounced aloud.

Everyone in the Tang family couldn’t help but secretly give Tang Yan credit. “When it comes to shamelessness, if he says he’s second, who can claim first?”

Even Lin Dongxue, who had previously been furious with him, now softened slightly, her anger and disdain diminishing.

Tang Yan had just delivered a corny love confession from his past life, but in this world, it was fresh and heart-stirring.

In fact, Lin Dongxue secretly decided that if the poem Tang Yan wrote was even a little acceptable, she might just let the matter slide.

“Master Tang, please,” Wu Xuan, ever composed, said. Her indifference to Tang Yan’s antics had shifted into genuine curiosity, and she was intrigued by his confidence.

Tang Yan wasted no more time. Rolling up his sleeves, he dipped his brush in ink and began to write on the flawless white paper.

Everyone leaned forward to see whether his writing was as bad as they expected, eager to witness whether it was chicken scratch or cat’s claws.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Xiangjian Huan"—three characters appeared neatly in the center of the page as the title.

Without a pause or hesitation, the brushstrokes were fluid, bold, yet elegant. The characters were majestic, with every stroke flowing naturally and beautifully.

Tang Yan stood tall, his handsome features shining with focus. Wearing a robe with golden trim, holding a brush with poise, he looked every bit the refined young master.

He was graceful, elegant, and—truth be told—quite handsome.

Tang Ling’s eyes nearly popped out, and Mo Bo’s jaw almost hit the floor. They had watched this boy grow up, but neither of them had any idea that he could write this well.

Even Qin Changdao, who had expected to see a mess of scribbles, stared in disbelief. “Could this really be from this playboy?”

Lin Dongxue and Wu Xuan exchanged glances, both surprised by the sudden change in their perception of Tang Yan.

"Good handwriting!" Wu Xuan praised generously, and even Qin Changdao gave a nod of approval.

"Without words, I climb the western tower, the moon like a hook, the lonely phoenix tree in the deep courtyard locks the clear autumn..."

The first stanza flowed smoothly, as natural as flowing water, without the slightest pause. It felt as if Tang Yan had practiced this poem for countless hours.

The delicate emotions in the poem hit Lin Dongxue deeply. Her heart skipped a beat as she read the lines, and Qin Changdao too frowned, stunned by the unexpected beauty of the verse.

Tang Ling and Mo Bo, meanwhile, were lost in a dreamlike daze. “Could we be dreaming?” Tang Ling pinched Mo Bo, and when Mo Bo winced in pain, Tang Ling realized they were wide awake.

Mo Bo, face contorted with frustration, couldn’t believe it. At his age, being treated like this by a child was humiliating!

"Uncut and tangled, unresolved, it's the sorrow of parting, a flavor unique to the heart..." Tang Yan continued with the second stanza.

As the last line of the poem ended, the room fell completely silent. Even Qin Changdao, who had been waiting for an opportunity to ridicule him, was now lost in the words, repeating the poem in his head over and over. At fifty-seven, Qin Changdao found himself moved by the tender sorrow of the poem.

Tang Yan remained quiet, not interrupting.

After a long pause, Wu Xuan finally sighed. "I didn’t expect this, Master Tang. At first, I doubted your words and thought you were making things up. But after reading this poem, I can see you truly put your heart into it. Miss Dongxue, I believe this matter should be put to rest. What do you think?"

Originally, Lin Dongxue had planned to forgive Tang Yan as long as the poem was at least somewhat acceptable. But after reading this piece, she found herself deeply moved, not only accepting the apology but also admiring his sincerity.

The poem was simple, yet it conveyed layers of emotion, expressing longing and unrequited love in a subtle and understated way. Lin Dongxue, though a proud city lord’s daughter, couldn’t help but feel touched by its sincerity.

"Fine, I’ll believe you this time. The City Lord’s mansion will not pursue this matter any further. But if this happens again, no matter the reason, we will not be lenient!" Lin Dongxue said, her voice firm.

As she turned to leave the hall, she called back to Qin Changdao, "Take that piece of evidence with you."

Without waiting for further conversation, she hurriedly exited.

Qin Changdao, still holding onto the poem, was deeply impressed, but without hesitation, he rolled it up and followed.

"Master Tang truly surprised me today. Though his reputation in Yun City is not good, I can see he has real talent in poetry. If he devotes himself to the art of literature, he will achieve great things in the future. We will meet again when the time is right. Farewell."

Wu Xuan, with a graceful bow, left as well.

The remaining members of the Tang family were now fully aware of what had just transpired. Tang Ling and Mo Bo stared at Tang Yan with a look of disbelief.

Feeling the weight of their curious gazes, Tang Yan inwardly groaned. "I’ve gone too far with the act!"