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

Su Wanci's face turned even redder, so red that even her neck was tinged with a light pink.

She looked down at the tips of her shoes.

I saw a small blade of grass growing out of the cracks in the wooden boardwalk.

Watching my shadow lengthen in the sunlight.

It was cast on Chen Mo's shadow.

The two shadows overlapped.

It's hard to tell who's whose.

Her heart was beating very fast.

Chen Mo withdrew his gaze.

He turned around and looked at the sheet of Xuan paper spread on the table.

Looking at those words whose ink was still wet.

He said.

"I won't take this poem with me; I want to leave it here."

The crowd fell silent.

Professor Li's eyes widened suddenly.

"Stay here?"

He repeated it, his voice filled with disbelief.

"You mean... leave it by the Luo River?"

"Yes."

Chen Mo said, "This poem was written for one person, but I want more people to see it, so I decided to leave it here."

He paused for a moment, his gaze passing over the crowd and landing on the surface of the Luo River in the distance.

The water shimmered, and the sunlight shattered into millions of golden scales, as if something was breathing underwater.

The surrounding crowd fell silent.

A young man in a plaid shirt pushed up his glasses and said to the person next to him.

"Is he going to donate this poem to the scenic area? This... this kind of article, he just donates it like that?"

The person next to him shook his head, his voice filled with emotion.

"It's not a donation; he's leaving it here, like a painter who paints a mountain and then leaves the painting at the foot of the mountain, you understand?"

The boy with glasses finally shut his mouth, which had been open for a long time, swallowed hard, and said to his girlfriend.

"I'm impressed, truly impressed. Not because he writes well, but because after he finished writing, he didn't take it with him, didn't leave his name, just left it here. What kind of level of artistry is that?"

His girlfriend picked up the phone with the cracked screen, not even bothering to look at the screen, staring at Chen Mo's back, her voice soft.

"He said it was 'written for someone,' but we don't know who that person is."

After she finished speaking, her gaze involuntarily drifted towards Su Wanci.

Not only her, but many people around her were looking at Su Wanci.

Those gazes held curiosity, envy, and a touch of "this girl is so lucky."

An older woman tugged at the sleeve of an older man next to her and said in a low voice.

"Look at that girl, her face is so red, it must be her. This young man wrote such a beautiful article praising her, she will never forget this day."

The old man nodded.

"This is far more powerful than sending flowers or rings. Flowers will wither, rings will age, but this article can be passed down for a thousand years."

The older woman was taken aback by the word "millennium".

He opened his mouth, but didn't say anything.

A girl in a school uniform, who looked like a high school student, was recording with her phone. Her eyes were red, and she was talking to her classmate.

"I also want a confession like that, not 'I like you,' not 'Be my girlfriend,' but 'graceful as a startled swan, lithe as a swimming dragon.' Oh my god, if I were that girl, I could cry for the rest of my life."

Her classmate was nodding vigorously beside her.

"The problem is, you can't write it. That's talent. We'll never meet someone like that in our lifetime."

Su Wanci heard these sounds.

I heard every single word.

Her heart started beating even faster.

Her face was burning hot, as if she had a high fever; even her breath felt hot.

She lowered her head, looking at her own shadow and Chen Mo's shadow; the two shadows were still overlapping, like a painting.

She wanted to say, "Stop talking."

I want to say, "I am not."

I want to say, "He didn't write about me."

But all those words got stuck in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single one.

Because she was unsure.

She was unsure if she was "that person".

She wasn't sure.

She was afraid she would misunderstand, afraid she would be presumptuous, and afraid that she would get a disappointing answer if she asked.

So she just stood there with her head down and her face flushed, like a sapling bent over by the wind.

Chen Mo didn't look at her.

He turned around, walked out of the pavilion, and paused as he passed Professor Li.

"Professor Li,"

He said, "Please take a look at this poem for me, so that no one can ruin it."

Professor Li's body jolted violently.

He looked up at Chen Mo, his lips trembling. "You...you can rest assured, I'll risk my life for you."

Chen Mo nodded and continued walking forward.

He walked up to Su Wanci.

"Let's go," he said.

Su Wanci looked up and glanced at him.

Her face was as red as the setting sun, her eyes were misty with tears, and her lips trembled slightly as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she just nodded.

"Um."

The two walked side by side out of the crowd, onto the wooden boardwalk, and headed into the depths of the lotus flowers.

Behind me, the crowd was still talking, taking pictures, and sighing.

Professor Li stood in the pavilion, bending over, and carefully lifted the sheet of Xuan paper from the table, as if it were a fragile cultural relic.

His fingers were trembling, but he held the paper very steadily, so steadily that the paper didn't budge.

...

...

The owner of the scenic area is surnamed Qian, named Qian Yongchang. He is in his early fifties, slightly overweight, with a round face, and his smile resembles that of Maitreya Buddha.

He received the news twenty minutes later.

He was doing accounting in his office at the time.

The Luoshui Scenic Area has been open for over a year, but the investment has been large and the returns have been slow, resulting in continuous losses.

The Luoshui Scenic Area has been open for over a year, but the investment has been large and the returns have been slow, resulting in continuous losses.

He was so worried that his hair was falling out in clumps, and he spent every day thinking about how to attract traffic and increase his income.

The office door was suddenly pushed open, and Assistant Xiao Liu rushed in, almost tripping over the threshold.

"Mr. Qian! Mr. Qian! Something terrible has happened!"

Qian Yongchang raised his head, his brows furrowing into deep lines.

"What's the matter that you're in such a hurry?"

"The pavilion in the middle of the lake! Someone wrote an article there! Professor Li, that Professor Li from the provincial normal university, cried after reading it!"

Qian Yongchang paused for a moment.

"Professor Li? Crying?"

"Yes! She was crying uncontrollably! And there were lots of people watching! It's already spreading online!"

Qian Yongchang stood up and followed Xiao Liu towards the pavilion in the middle of the lake.

He was panting heavily as he ran, his belly jiggling, but he didn't care.

When he ran to the pavilion in the middle of the lake, the crowd had not yet dispersed.

He squeezed in and saw Professor Li still standing in the pavilion, holding a sheet of Xuan paper in his hands, surrounded by dozens of people.

Everyone was looking at that piece of paper.

Everyone's face showed an expression as if they had seen something unbelievable.

"Professor Li!"

Qian Yongchang was panting.

"What's going on?"

Professor Li looked up at him.

Qian Yongchang was stunned.

He had known Professor Li for so many years and had never seen such an expression on his face before.

That expression wasn't one of excitement or exhilaration, but rather a look as if he had witnessed a miracle.

"Boss Qian," Professor Li's voice was hoarse, "your scenic area is about to become a hit starting today."

Qian Yongchang was stunned for a moment.

"What?"