Transmigrated Empresses (Male and Female)

Chapter 59

Chess? It doesn't look like that!

Gomoku? Seems like a huge mismatch.

Forget it, forget it, I won't go look at the poem. I, on the other hand, know how to do that.

Using chess as a metaphor for poetry. "Square like a chessboard, round like chess pieces, moving like chess moves, still like a dead chess piece."

After I finished writing it, I proudly tossed it to the judges. What a wonderful poem! It was simple and easy to understand.

The judge gave me a cold look: "Young master, did you write it wrong?"

"Written wrong?" Don't joke with your great-grandfather. I copied from the ancients. Would the ancients make mistakes?

“Young master, our chessboard is round, and the chess pieces are square.”

"Huh? You're kidding me, right!"

The judges had dark faces.

Let me think... I think I remember now. What I saw just now was a bit strange. "I'll rewrite it!"

"No, everyone only has one chance." The judge threw my essay back at me without any leniency.

Damn it, I still have several left, one more won't make a difference.

In just a short while, all four wishes flew away.

The third round begins with books and words.

I went all out and copied Su Shi's magnificent "Nian Nu Jiao: Reminiscences of Chibi" in cursive script.

See if I don't stun you this time? The judges opened their eyes wide, took out the magnifying glass I invented, and scrutinized my paper from left to right. Ha! Ha! Now you finally know how powerful I am!

After waiting for a while, the judge straightened up and said, "Is this even written?! I don't recognize a single word! Send it back!"

"Hey, are you stupid?! You don't even understand cursive script." I was furious with the King of Hell and wanted to drag him to the underworld.

"Cursive script? Why don't you write in flower script!"

That's not true, is it? Wait, this isn't a big problem.

The judges returned my masterpiece to me, and I held my anger in my hands, displaying the excellent potential honed by my unwavering dedication.

In the last competition, I dared not come up with anything new and obediently painted a landscape using the Dongqing painting method.

I think this time it won't be wrong.

The result! The result! The result almost made me, the most adorable person ever, furious.

A fellow patted me on the shoulder and said, "Young man, don't you know that the Shen style of painting is popular now?"

I looked at his very modern cartoonish style.

This is the book "Dragon Raja" that I published, isn't it? It killed me! I don't want to live anymore.

Out of anger, I tore up the drawing and put it on the ground to stomp on.

After venting my anger, I kicked the contestant off the stage and yelled at the top of my lungs:

Return what you took from me; spit out what you ate from me.

The records in the Shining Red Star have become the dialogue at this moment.

Those who owe me, pay me back; those who stole from me, hand them over.

You guys are like those rock-paper-scissors players, always getting into trouble and always doing the bad thing.

Hee swish swish hee swish swish hee swish swish hee swish swish,

Hee swish swish hee swish swish hee swish swish hee swish swish,

…Wounds, wounds…death, death…pretending, what a waste.

Oh... hit and hit... curse and curse... yell and yell,

Please return what you took to me.

Spit out what you ate of mine.

This is what I had in my heart, now transformed into this dialogue.

Those who owe me, pay me back; those who stole from me, hand them over.

You guys are like those rock-paper-scissors players, always getting into trouble and always doing the bad thing.

...Sigh...I hate you every day...I curse you every night,

Sigh... I'm always blaming you... Go to hell! --- The Flowers Band

After finishing the song, I glared at the crowd with unwavering determination, determined to win first place.

Everyone stared at me silently, as if I were a plague.

I shook my head: See? You're all dumbfounded!

Those who recognized me whispered amongst themselves. Those who didn't know me hurriedly inquired.

The transvestite, Wu Hui, Chou Qian, and Zi Mo stood at the second-floor window, staring at me.