Rebirth: I Became a Maggot 2

Chapter 132: Poetry and Couplets

After a while, another fly came, and then the dance competition officially ended. The host slowly walked to the center of the stage.

I suspect that guy either really enjoys the hosting style or really enjoys being the center of attention.

He even went on stage himself to host for his daughter; I'm speechless.

"Alright, the first round is over. The dance competition has selected five outstanding young talents. Next, all they need to do is answer one question from my daughter, and we'll determine who will ultimately win. But..." The host suddenly stopped speaking.

This is a clever use of language; the speaker stopped there, instantly attracting the attention and anticipation of countless people. It seems the fly isn't stupid after all; it knows how to exploit curiosity.

"But the other four shouldn't be disappointed either. You will each have a mentor who will take you on as apprentices and guide you to the highest peak of your dance career," the host said proudly.

As soon as these words were spoken, a thunderous sound of wings immediately filled the air below.

It caused quite a stir, but in my opinion, it was nothing special. Who would be interested in learning dance? I certainly wasn't.

"Now, please welcome my daughter." With this shout, the thunderous sound of wings rang out below.

With that shout, a cute little fly slowly emerged from the tree trunk. It was an adorable little fly; who else could it be but a little fly?

The little fly slowly walked to the center of the stage, looking at the five of us flies below. It was as if it were interviewing migrant workers, its expression a mixture of displeasure and annoyance.

I could sense Xiao Cang's dissatisfaction; after all, someone had broken up her love. Being forced to choose a life partner from five flies she didn't love—you wouldn't want that either.

Although unwilling, things had already come to this point, and there was no escaping it. Xiao Cang sighed softly, resigned to her fate, and then organized her thoughts before saying, "I recently learned a new word. I haven't understood it yet, and I hope that you talented young people can explain it to me. What is it? Wind, flower, snow, moon."

Faced with this suddenly posed question, everyone was visibly taken aback. They hadn't expected such a profound question, and the audience immediately began whispering among themselves.

I glanced at the four flies around me, who seemed completely unfazed, as if they had everything under control. I wondered why the little fly would ask such a question.

Holy crap, is there really some inside story? Did the exam questions get leaked? Surely it can't be that bad?

The first fly proudly declared: "The wind blows through mountains and rivers, caressing our faces; flowers fall and turn to mud, yet never fade; snow melts at sunrise, leaving white petals on the eaves; the moon is near yet far, enduring for millennia. At the summit of the high mountain, those who travel to the far reaches come in droves. Unimpeded, they go day and night, lost and confused, neither close nor distant. Like myself, like madness."

Good heavens, when did this fly become so knowledgeable? It can spout poems and verses off the top of its head!

I was almost completely dumbfounded. To be honest, I can't even recite all 300 Tang poems, let alone this stuff about romance and nature.

Before my surprise was over, the second fly said smugly, "Miss, listen to my understanding."

"The wind arises and ceases on its own, stirring and swaying the sleeves."

"The flowers, their jade-like hues scattered in the breeze, remain unpicked, their petals stained with dew."

"The snow is cool on my brow, and my hair is white as snow."

"The moon is moved away, buried in the starry clouds of the desolate sky."

The second fly casually brought up another line of poetry: My worldview, who can tell me if this isn't real?

"Hahaha, not bad, not bad, but miss, listen to what I have to say." The third fly walked up easily and said.

"The wind sings a clear song without ceasing, blowing across the high terrace."

"Flowers, like broken branches, bloom in vibrant colors, inspiring three hundred poems."

"Snow accumulates like a curtain, adorning the clear sky; the carved bow is too lazy to be drawn."

"The moon shines brightly on this beautiful night, but such a night is hard to come by again."

"Mountains and Rivers, Bridal Chamber, Heavenly Stars and Candles"

"In the coming year, my makeup will make my bones dry up"

"Is the intensity of the epilepsy's color fashionable?"

The third fly was crawling on the ground, reciting poetry as if it were composing a poem. I mean, do you really think you're a poet? Who knows where you're copying from?

I looked at the fly with a lot of annoyance. Did it have to be so smug?

At this moment, the fourth fly, not wanting to be outdone, said in a very casual tone, "The three of you before me are truly talented, but would you please listen to my poem before making any decisions, Miss?"

The fellow crawled a few steps on the ground and then began to compose a poem: "The wind is a shield, its tassels fluttering, the smoke of war swirling around its sash."

"Flowers are splattered with blood, five steps to pull out corpses and tread on bones."

"Snowflakes even reach the horsehide, fluttering against the coffin lid."

"The moon is a taciturn historian whose thoughts cannot be guessed."

"The joys and sorrows of the world are but a fleeting moment."

"Near the mountains, I compose my aspirations; by the water, I ponder long-lasting thoughts."

"Those who share the same intentions but diverge in their paths will find themselves far apart."

How many romantic encounters have occurred?

After he finished speaking, he stopped walking and then struck what he thought was a very cool pose, remaining motionless.

Damn, this is such a show-off! I'd give it nine points, but I'm holding back one point because I'm afraid of getting arrogant.

All four of them had finished speaking, and I was the last one left. But I honestly didn't know what to do. I don't know how to write any poems. I'm not even very familiar with the poems I've memorized, let alone how to write one myself.

"The four of them have finished, so what about you? What did you do? What are your thoughts on romance and poetry? Or what are your thoughts on love?" Xiao Cang asked casually, as if she had already guessed that we would all have answers, as if she had already given up hope.

It seems Xiao Cang has guessed that her parents have already abandoned her, and now all she can do is choose a life partner.

That so-called love has drifted further and further away from me. Now, let alone love, I don't even have a life anymore.

As the little fly asked its question, the other flies also cast strange glances at me with great curiosity, as if to say, "Didn't you do your homework? Didn't you memorize it?"

The audience around me looked at me with great curiosity, wondering what I would say, since the previous few people had said such artistic things.

And the last one, I didn't say anything for a long time, which clearly meant I was about to unleash my ultimate move.

But I don't have any special moves, not even basic ones. I'd like to recite some romantic poems, but I genuinely don't know any. My head is throbbing from thinking so much, but I still can't come up with any.

Normally, he's a fruit grower.

I've been thinking for ages and still can't come up with a good poem. Isn't this just setting me up for failure? I've never liked memorizing poems since I was little, and now they even have rules about what to write in poems. I really can't think of anything, and creating something original is even more impossible.