At noon, Xia Chen enjoyed his meal with great satisfaction and delight.

Meanwhile, the literary gathering hosted by Yaoguang had also come to an end.

Everyone had left, and Yaoguang sat in the grand hall, holding a piece of paper in her hand. On it was a poem, its words elegant and its meaning profound. It was the very poem Xia Chen had written earlier.

Yaoguang gazed at the poem with her bright eyes, lost in thought for a long time...