Qin Siyuan suddenly realized why his poetry always lacked a bit of inspiration.
He was overjoyed and felt like scratching his ears and cheeks, wanting to open the door and rush out to jump and shout, telling everyone he met, "I understand now, so this is it."
But the words Qin Yuan had someone bring to him made him understand that not a hint of this matter could be leaked.
Nor could he share this manuscript with Lin Ziqi.
Qin Yuan's guidance was worth its weight in gold; he had found the right teacher, it was like being reborn.
Qin Siyuan was filled with gratitude.
Upon hearing a noise outside the door, he hurriedly collected himself, stuffed the manuscript into the bookcase at his bedside, planning to study it well when no one was around.
His long reading habits had trained him to remember the crucial points Qin Yuan mentioned, but he still couldn't bear to destroy the manuscript and wanted to ponder it deeply in solitude.
