"May I ask the gentleman upstairs, where did you find this collection of poems, and where is their owner? Can you introduce one or two to us?!"
After someone felt the charm of this poetry collection, they directly got close to Su Jinluo.
Apart from "Sir", only the real owner of this collection of poems can make these arrogant celebrities lower their noble heads.
"The original owner of this collection of poems has passed away, and I also received a fragmented copy. Because it is the only fragment of the original owner's handwriting, I cherish it very much. The collection you see was handwritten by me."
Su Jinluo directly stated that the owner of this poetry collection had died long ago, and the book they were holding was no longer the "original one".
"No wonder!" Su Jinluo said, and everyone downstairs agreed.
Because the poetry collection they saw had extremely white paper and a new ink color, and there was no trace of weariness at all.
"That's the logic!" Huang Qiusheng high-fived with his fan: "If Huang can get this fragment, he will definitely regard it as a treasure and treasure it!"
It's a pity...
"As you can see, the three poems I wrote before are all from here, not written by me. If brothers talk about it in the future, please don't say that I stole the efforts of my predecessors."
Su Jinluo, who was standing upstairs, said this with a smile at the end.
"No, no, of course not!"
The people downstairs shook their heads, looking towards the second floor with a hint of embarrassment and shyness.
After all, they did have such thoughts at the beginning, but they didn't expect that the young man on the second floor was a kind-hearted man, and he didn't care about them at all, and even gave them a step down.
Suddenly, all the students on the first floor had a great impression of the mysterious young man on the second floor.
Huang Qiusheng suddenly felt that only a person with such a broad mind could be recognized by "Sir", so he climbed up to the private seats on the second floor.
"By the way, Mr. Xiang, are these three poems of yours really your own creation?!"
Su Jinluo's problem was solved, but Xiang Linghan's was not!
In the collection of poems Su Jinluo showed, every sentence at the beginning is a classic and cannot be surpassed.
The difference is that Su Jinluo has long said that none of the three poems were written by her, but Xiang Linghan insisted that these poems were all created by him.
"Impossible, impossible!"
Others stared at Xiang Linghan with unkind eyes, but Xiang Linghan seemed not to feel anything at all.
Xiang Linghan just stared at the poetry collection, wishing he could poke a hole in it.
In that collection of poems, only three poems were written by him, and there were a few poems that he had suddenly come across before, but had not yet written them concretely.
But there are more things that he has not thought of yet. Even after reading it, he had to say "wonderful" and a masterpiece of poetry!
Xiang Linghan's eyes were slightly bloodshot, and red blood streaks began to occupy Xiang Linghan's eyeballs.
Impossible, impossible! It is impossible for anyone to create the same verses as him, let alone such a genius who has created so many more poetry collections than him!
"Impossible?!" Huang Qiusheng smiled sarcastically: "Facts speak louder than words. You can still say such a thing in the face of evidence. No wonder 'Sir' said you can't conspire with Jianzi!"
Huang Qiusheng flicked his sleeves and said angrily.