A perfect score on the college entrance exam? The Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng has astonis

Professor Li only knows this.

All the classical Chinese texts he had ever read in his life seemed like fireflies meeting the moon in the face of this poem.

The people around finally fell completely silent.

I wasn't scared, but rather stunned by Professor Li's demeanor.

An old professor cried like this in public, trembled like this in public, and couldn't even stand up straight.

You don't need to understand classical Chinese; you only need to see him like this to know how terrifying what that boy wrote is.

The female host finally regained her voice, but it was trembling violently.

"Professor Li... Professor Li, are you alright?"

Professor Li did not answer.

He didn't even hear her speak.

"Her beauty was exquisite, her demeanor serene and graceful. Her gentle charm and captivating speech were alluring."

Chen Mo finished writing the last paragraph.

He put down his pen, took a step back, and looked at the words he had written.

The pavilion was quiet for about three seconds.

Then Professor Li spoke.

His voice was so hoarse that it was almost inaudible, but every word seemed to be squeezed out with all his might.

"What is the name of this poem?"

Chen Mo looked at him, then at Su Wanci, and then at the people who were recording with their phones.

"Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River"

He said.

Professor Li's body swayed suddenly.

His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

He just stood there.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

It flowed down his wrinkled face, over his gray stubble, and dripped onto the collar of his Zhongshan suit.

Then he did something that no one expected.

He slowly, very slowly bent down.

He rested his hands on his knees, his whole body like a reed bent by the wind.

"I……"

His voice squeezed out from his trembling lips.

"I've taught for forty years...written papers for thirty years...I thought I'd seen it all in my life..."

He looked up at Chen Mo.

"But I've never seen writing like this before. Never. How could someone your age... how could you possibly write something like this? Who are you anyway?"

All eyes were on Chen Mo.

Tourists holding up their phones, photographers carrying video cameras.

Everyone is waiting for an answer.

Chen Mo looked at Professor Li and remained silent for a second.

"Chen Mo."

He said.

The crowd was silent for a moment, then erupted.

"Chen Mo? The Chen Mo from the internet?"

"The one who got a perfect score on the college entrance exam?"

"The one on TikTok that says 'You can do it with your hands'?"

"It's him? He's Chen Mo?"

The sound surged up like a tide, wave after wave.

Some people started looking through screenshots of TikTok on their phones.

Some people started pushing forward to get a better look, while others shouted, "Chen Mo, can you sign your name for me?"

The female host finally raised the microphone, her voice trembling.

"Chen Mo...you're the Chen Mo who got a perfect score on the college entrance exam? The Chen Mo who posts 'It's easy with just your hands' on Douyin?"

Professor Li stood there, and when he heard the name "Chen Mo," his body swayed violently.

Of course he knew the name.

The entire internet has been searching for this name these past two days. He thought it was just an arrogant teenager trying to gain online traffic.

He thought the so-called perfect score on the college entrance exam was just hype.

He thought "anyone with hands can do it" was the most ignorant thing he had ever heard in his life.

But now he knows.

Every word that boy said was true.

It wasn't because he wrote this poem, but because of the time he wrote it.

Chapter 41, a high-energy chapter, uses classical Chinese to express love? The Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River was written for one person! Updated! Read now:

His expression was as calm as if he were doing something trivial.

That kind of tranquility can only be revealed by those who truly possess something.

"So you are..."

Professor Li's voice sounded like it was coming from a very far place.

"You're Chen Mo, the one who got a perfect score on the college entrance exam?"

"Yes," Chen Mo said.

Professor Li remained silent for a long time.

"Chen Mo,"

He said his voice was hoarse but clear.

"I take back what I just said. I apologize. You're right—anyone with hands can do it. It's not because you're arrogant, it's because you have the ability to do it. I've lived for sixty years, and only today do I realize what genius is."

He bowed deeply.

Professor Li bowed deeply.

After about ten seconds, Professor Li finally straightened up slowly.

His face was still streaked with tears.

Then he looked at Chen Mo, his gaze devoid of any condescension.

It should be like the reverence a student has when looking at a teacher.

"Chen Mo,"

His voice was hoarse but clear: "I have a favor to ask."

Chen Mo looked at him without saying a word.

Professor Li took a deep breath, as if summoning all his courage.

"Could I... take this 'Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River' with me?"

"I want to take it back and study it carefully. I want to show it to my students so they know what a real article is."

"I want to keep it as a keepsake so that when I'm old and can't walk anymore, I can take it out and look at it, and tell myself—in my life, I've seen a true genius."

His voice trembled slightly at the last few words, like a string on a musical instrument being plucked by the wind.

Everyone around him was watching him.

To speak to an eighteen-year-old boy in this tone.

No one found it funny.

Because everyone saw what he looked like just now.

A sixty-year-old will not lower himself for something that is not worth it.

Chen Mo remained silent for two seconds.

Then he shook his head.

"no."

Professor Li's expression changed.

"This poem," Chen Mo's voice was soft but clear, "is written for someone."

Done.

He turned his head slightly.

He looked at Su Wanwan beside him.

Upon seeing this, the crowd's gazes were drawn together as if by an invisible thread, all turning to look at Su Wanci.

Su Wanci stood at the front of the crowd, wearing a floral dress, her hair fluttering slightly in the wind.

She could feel those gazes.

It was like hundreds of butterflies landing on her shoulders at the same time.

She had nowhere to hide.

Her face flushed red instantly.

The redness spread from the base of her neck all the way to the tips of her ears, and from the tips of her ears to her cheeks.

She lowered her head, her fingers twisting the hem of her skirt until her knuckles turned white.

She wanted to say "it wasn't me," to shake her head, to deny it, but her lips were as if they were sewn shut, and she couldn't utter a single word.

Because there was a voice in her heart saying...

is it you?

Is it really you?

The surrounding crowd began to whisper among themselves.

"It's about the goddess Luoshen. The goddess Luoshen is a goddess, so it must be about a girl."

"Isn't this a confession of love? Using classical Chinese to express love, how romantic!"

"Graceful as a startled swan, lithe as a swimming dragon"—which girl wouldn't be moved by that?

"Look at that girl, her face is as red as an apple."

"It must be her. Look at where she's standing, she's closest to that boy. Look at the way she looks at him, that's not the look of an ordinary friend."

The murmurs surged in like a tide, each word landing precisely in Su Wanci's ears.

...

...