"How can one achieve both in this world, not failing the Buddha nor failing you?"
Yuan Liren recited these two lines of poetry, revealing a bitter smile, and looked at Song Zhiyuan: "Madam Song's poetry truly speaks to my heart."
Song Zhiyuan pondered these two lines and was a bit surprised. His mother actually composed poetry? This seemed unlikely.
However, upon careful consideration, he thought of Master Buhui, who was still in the mansion, and who often spoke at length when checking Song Ci's pulse. Perhaps he heard it from Buhui?
"Yunzhi, your family matron is indeed a perceptive person. No wonder the atmosphere in the Prime Minister's Mansion is so clear and joyful, unlike our Uncle's Mansion where endless schemes and calculations abound." Yuan Liren looked at Song Zhiyuan, his former classmate, with envy in his eyes.
