Three feet in front of Zhao Rong, Luo Xiu halted, performing a graceful curtsey. She softly parted her lips and uttered her second sentence of the evening.
The lady's voice was melodious and elegantly understated.
"May I inquire if you are Zhao Ziyu, Young Master Zhao?"
Zhao Rong nodded, "Indeed, it is I."
Luo Xiu suddenly raised her head, fixing her gaze on him as she said with lively charm, "This humble girl is quite fond of the young master's poetry."
"Do you also enjoy drawings for amusement? Well, if you like it, I'll give it to you."
"Thank you, Young Master."
"No need for thanks, a poem every seven breaths, plenty to spare, if you want more, I have them," Zhao Rong said modestly as he waved his hand.
The other onlooking guests eyed Zhao Rong, who had captivated a fairy, with varied looks as they secretly inhaled sharply upon hearing about the seven breaths poetry.
Gu Yiwu and the students of Justice Hall Academy couldn't help but twitch their lips fiercely.
