The Strong Female Lead Versus The Most Miserable Male Lead

Chapter 109: Chapter 109: Poetry First Shows Its Power
 

Outside the small wooden house, pots were arranged in full array.

These pots, urgently purchased by Fu Yunhe, were simply because there was nowhere else to put them.

By this time, Nian Shutong had finished cutting up the pig. She took several strips of pork belly and said to Zhang Hui, “Slice them into half-centimeter thick pieces, sprinkle a little bit of fine salt, and let them marinate for a while.”

Zhang Hui, understanding, took the pork belly and set about her task.

Nian Shutong then took a piece of shoulder meat and handed it to Fu Yunhe, saying, “Use this piece for the stewed potatoes tonight—it’s the same method as braising chicken.”

“All right,” Fu Yunhe nodded with understanding.

Nian Shutong also took four pork legs. These could be cured into ham, and she planned to go find some branches to bring back.

However, before that, she needed a room to smoke the meat in.

“Ha Ha, build a simple wooden house; I want to smoke meat to eat!”

“You got it!”

Ha Ha readily accepted the command.

Nian Shutong’s arrangements were almost finished, so she took off in the Flying Device.

She wanted to find some branches suitable for smoking meat and also pick some more soybeans.

But now, it seemed there weren’t enough hands on deck.

Looking after the soy sauce sunning and the tofu she intended to make—all these tasks needed someone’s attention.

She wondered if the poetry competition Daodao mentioned could be won? If she were to win, then she could afford a bit of wages and hire some more people.

At this moment, the poetry competition Nian Shutong was pondering over caused the person reviewing the submissions considerable eyestrain.

In a certain office on the third floor of a building emanating an antique charm dedicated to ancient poetry and verse…

“Ah… What is all this?” A bespectacled man, pushing his glasses up, said to an elderly man with a white beard opposite him, “Mr. Yu, listen to this.”

The man with the white beard, laughing heartily, said, “Young man, you are too hot-headed. Read it and see for yourself.”

The young man, particularly disdainful, began to read aloud.

“One two three four five, patriotism is my drive. Six seven eight nine ten, for my country I’ll bleed again.”

“Mr. Yu, you see, this is enough to make me spit blood! Do these people who submit their work not know their own level?”

Mr. Yu felt a twinge in his heart but still maintained a calm demeanor, saying, “It’s okay, their heart is in the right place.”

The young man did not say much and continued to look through the submissions.

Unbearable!

Eyes hurt!

Heart hurts!

Mommy, there are even typos!

The young man felt he had reached his limit and decided to stand up to get a drink of water.

The last one.

The young man, looking at the name on the email: Earth Bar.

What kind of a ghost name is that? It lacks any poetic or artistic flair intended for cultured folks.

He had lost all hope, with one hand reaching for the water cup and the other casually opening the email.

“With hair in a rage, resting on the rail, the rain lets up…”

The young man, who had been indifferent, suddenly dropped his water cup with a clatter, and read the first line again.

Good! Brilliant!

He even took off his glasses just to see more clearly.

Don’t doubt it, myopia is nearly nonexistent in the interstellar age; he wore them just for the sake of appearance.

“With hair in a rage, resting on the rail, the rain lets up. Looking up, he lets out a long howl to the sky, full of fierce pride. Thirty years of fame, dust and earth; eight thousand miles of road, Yun He and the moon. Don’t waste time; grey hair will soon arrive, all for naught.”

“All for naught… all for naught…”

“Xiao Ming, what are you muttering?” Mr. Yu noticed the young man Xiao Ming without his glasses, drenched in sweat, his breathing rapid.

Was he about to fall ill from anger?

Ah… Young people just lack experience. Mr. Yu stood up, walked behind Xiao Ming, patted him on the shoulder, and said, “Take a break, let me take a look for you.”

Mr. Yu had just finished speaking when he became fixated on the screen.

Thirty years of fame, dust and earth; eight thousand miles of road, Yun He and the moon.

Such magnificent righteousness could only be written by someone with great aspirations and noble thoughts.