The clerk wore a smile on his face, trying hard to maintain a reserved demeanor, but couldn't help revealing his four front teeth. Dissatisfied, he asked, "Brother Song, which line of my poem do you think is the best?"
Song Chongjin's dark face almost couldn't hold it anymore. He wanted to say, "I don't think any of them are good." But the words turned reluctantly into, "I think the last line is the best. It has a certain rustic charm..."
Upon hearing this, the clerk felt understood, "Brother Song, you're right. I'll ponder over the first three lines." Saying this, he walked off, muttering his new poem to himself.
Wang Yongping couldn't hold it in any longer. He leaned in close to Song Chongjin and whispered, "Brother-in-law, what's this dry and wet stuff about?"
Song Chongjin twitched his mouth, utterly speechless, "This poem doesn't talk about anything. It just says the weather is nice and the scenery is good today."
