The next day.
At home.
Breakfast was ready.
Zhang Ye did not need to be woken up today. He had gotten up early by himself and washed up before coming out to the living room. When the steamed buns and millet congee was served, he immediately sat down at the table and started eating heartily.
"Mom, the congee tastes quite good!" Zhang Ye praised.
His mother was rather speechless. "Why do you sound like you're in a such a good mood?"
Zhang Ye smiled and said, "It's not too bad."
His mother stared at him and said, "But everyone says that you've gotten into big trouble this time!"
"I only spoke the truth, did what I wanted to, and did what I had to." Zhang Ye smiled and said, "I have a clear conscience regarding it, so what do I have to be afraid of?"
"Well said!" When his father heard that, he nodded vigorously. "That's my son!"
Dongda - also known as Dong, the eldest, or Dong Tinglan. The poem is a jueju, or Chinese quatrain.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jueju & http://www.ebridge.cn/new/languages/lan.php?sno=391