"I bore no ulterior motives, I simply liked that poem." Zhuang Qingsui replied earnestly, "I find this poem to be succinct yet powerful, capable of expressing the poet's emotions in an exceptionally thorough way. It truly is a masterpiece that has withstood the test of time."
"Furthermore, isn't it precisely because this poem is written so well that so many people recite it, making it a verse known to all, that it is so popular?"
"You make a fair point," the teacher nodded, "Many scholars tend to view popularly known works as mundane, believing that possessing esoteric knowledge truly demonstrates one's own distinct cultural refinement and intellectual depth—a point they overlook."
"You, despite your young age, have an unusually clear understanding of many things. This is indeed impressive."
The teacher looked carefully at the name Zhuang Qingsui had written below the dictation, asking with a smile, "Your name is Zhuang Qingsui?"
"Indeed," Zhuang Qingsui nodded.