Rong Yanran felt unbearable and sat down again: "No, it's just that our identities are different. Everyone is afraid that they will accidentally provoke you and will be punished."

"I was very happy to see you eating just now. I also ate as you said. Why didn't I feel it taste good?" Luo Ziheng looked at the pot that was about to be extinguished and asked melancholy.

Rong Yanran felt a little guilty. Hotpot was just for everyone to eat, but eating it alone was indeed boring. "Did you eat it the same method I said? I'm not full yet, let's have another meal."

Yanran said, burned the fire again and added a pair of chopsticks to him. She put sesame paste in his bowl, added a little salt, and stirred it carefully. "For you."

The beating flames reflected on her face with crystal sweat beads, simple and serious, like a virtuous little wife.

After handing it to him, she poured the beef and mutton slices, and vegetable leaves into boiling water, and quickly took them out and put them in his bowl: "This way you can eat it. I'm useless to these chopsticks, so you dislike it too? Okay, you can pick it up by yourself." Seeing that he didn't move the chopsticks, Yanran kept explaining.

Luo Ziheng smiled slightly, and when she got up and gave the chopsticks again, she picked up the piece of meat and chewed it slowly. It was indeed much better than herself just now.

Yanran was speechless, and this young master Luo was slow to react. Seeing a smile on the corner of his lips, Yanran talked to him while enthusiastically picking up food for him, as if it was suitable for friends to have dinner together.

Obviously, Luo Ziheng was very satisfied. After dinner, he asked her: "You can write a poem that suits the situation."

Yanran waved her hands repeatedly: "No, no, how could I do any poetry?"

"I'll be in a relationship with Ouyang Chen, but I'll be in a bad mood when I'm not in love with me, right?" He asked with a smile, and the content made Yanran even more scared.

"If you can write a poem that I am satisfied with, I will take you to the town tomorrow to watch the temple fair." Luo Ziheng ran out with an attractive condition.

Yanran immediately felt very backless: "But, even if you are not satisfied, you have no choice, right?"

Luo Ziheng said as if nothing had happened: "It depends on your sincerity. If you do it at the same level as the "Ode to the Begonia" that day, I will take you to the market in the town."

Rong Yanran smiled awkwardly. It was not her. It was Lin Daiyu written by Mr. Cao. But Lin Daiyu had never written a poem about Yongyue. Xiangling had written it. Yes, right, fortunately, she remembered it. If she did not meet the standards, she would talk about it after memorizing it.

She thought about it carefully, and looked quite like she was thinking, and then chanted: "No silver or water reflects the cold window, wipe the clear sky to protect the jade plate. The faint fragrance of plum blossoms is about to dye, and the willow leaves are just dry. I only suspect that the residual powder is covered with gold, as if the light frost is applied to the jade railing. I wake up from the dream and the people in the West Tower are gone, but the rest of my appearance can still be seen through the curtain."

Luo Ziheng was just drinking without commenting. Yanran asked anxiously: "How is it, I'll give me a message."

"Not very good." He replied lightly, feeling that the song "I'm not as good as the one I wrote in front of Ouyang Chen.

Rong Yanran sighed, OK, this is Xiangling's second poem, and Lin Daiyu also said it was OK to memorize the third poem, just recite it. If it doesn't work, there is Li Bai.
Chapter completed!