890
Ling Yin also felt very nervous, standing to the left of Xiao Ruo. As Xiao Ruo started writing, she stared unblinking at the tip of her pen, unconsciously reciting Xiao Ruo's poem word by word.
"Overnight frost lightly touches the tiles, with newly broken plantains and wilting lotus. The only flower that endures the cold is the chrysanthemum by the eastern fence, its golden clusters freshly bloom, clearer with dawn."
"As orchids flourish in spring, chrysanthemums prosper in autumn again. Their fragrance surpasses all plants, their colors outshine all flowers. Which flower's essence is truly fragrant, more so in quiet beauty."
"The cold flowers have all blossomed, only the chrysanthemum petals fill the branches. People often gather old blooms, the light aroma fleetingly follows the wine."
"Golden skirts gleaming, jade-like skin upright. I know it thrives in good times, standing with the frost. Fallen to the ground is unbearable, embracing the branch rather withering alone."
