"What should we do? The three of us have lost thirty taels of silver for the tea party. Even if we find the maid from this courtyard to sleep with us, the three of us will have to pay several taels." Uncle Xu was anxious. He felt as if he had returned to the pre-liberation period and frowned.

Looking at his son:

"Say goodbye and think of a solution quickly."

Is this a question of money? Is this a question about which no information has been revealed... The brothers complained wildly in their hearts.

Xu New Year looked at his father: "What can I do? It's just luck. My eldest brother and I just come. Doesn't my father know himself?"

His tone was a little serious, indicating that he was anxious.

This wave is really a loss... Money is second, the key is that the news has not been found out... Looking at Mr. Zhao who was led away by the maid, Xu Qi'an suddenly remembered the title of Fuxiang Oiran: the two masters of music and poetry.

He immediately asked the maid who was serving the guests to eat and drink for pen and ink and rice paper.

He cleared a space on the desk and took Xu New Year's greeting: "Wish you to write for me."

Xu New Year did not hesitate, sitting upright and holding a pen in a tacit understanding.

Xu Qi'an spoke quickly and read: "All the flowers are swaying, and they are blooming alone, taking up all the charm in the small garden."

Xu New Year's writing is as fast as flying, and he writes elegant and unique cursive script.

Xu Qi'an continued to read: "The sparse shadows are slanting across the clear and shallow water, and the faint fragrance is floating in the moonlight at dusk."

Xu New Year did not start writing. He was stunned, as if he was petrified, and muttered to himself repeating the last two sentences.

"Write quickly!" Xu Qian pushed him.

Xu Erlang woke up from a dream and quickly finished writing with a straight face.

Xu Qian took away the rice paper, called the maid, and said, "Give this poem to Mrs. Fuxiang and then go and do it. I told Yang to be waiting here."

The maid was not very happy, but after Xu Qian stuffed her with a handful of broken silver, she immediately trotted away.

...

In the master bedroom, four folding screens blocked the bathtub, and steam lingered on the roof beams.

The floating incense is soaked in hot water filled with rose petals. The black hair is high and the neck is white and slender. The fragrant shoulders and chest are hung with water drops, reflecting the charming light in the candlelight.

With her skin as smooth as grease, she looked like a beautiful woman.

A personal maid was waiting beside the bathtub. While praising Fu Xiang's skin, she said: "Master Zhao is already waiting in the tea room next door. The guests outside said that he is a scholar from the Imperial College."

"What's so strange about being a scholar?" Fuxiang smiled, gently stirred the water, and said, "But with Mr. Zhao's talent, it's no big deal to pass the imperial examination."

The maid laughed in a low voice and said: "I know that my wife likes such talented young men, like that annoying Zhou Li, who shows off his power just because of his father's official position.

"Master Zhao is very talented. I hope my wife will treat you well. Maybe it will become a good story in the future. The woman can also leave her name in history."

"Even I make fun of you..." Fuxiang poked the maid's head with her finger and sighed: "It's so difficult for a woman to be famous and go down in history. It's something that many scholars can only hope for."

The door of the master bedroom was pushed open, and a maid came in, stood in the hall, and said crisply: "Madam, the guest outside named Yang asked the maid to send a poem."

Fuxiang frowned, and the eldest maid scolded: "There are no rules. My wife has already chosen Mr. Zhao. How can I change it? Is it taking away his benefits?"

The little maid lowered her head and did not dare to talk back.

Fu Xiang said lightly: "Put it on the table. Go out and tell the guests that Fu Xiang appreciates it."

The little maid was relieved, said "Hey", put the rice paper on the table, and went out.

After bathing, Fu Xiang put on a thin gauze skirt, her graceful figure was looming, and with her bare white feet, she came to the table and sat down.

"Go and invite Mr. Zhao in." She said, her eyes fell on the rice paper on the table, and she picked it up casually.

Her eyes suddenly froze, and she looked at the rice paper dreamily.

"Yingmei Pavilion presents floating incense"

All the fragrances are swaying, and they are blooming alone, occupying the small garden with all the charm.

The sparse shadows are slanting across the clear and shallow water, and the faint fragrance is floating in the moonlight at dusk.

The maid walked to the door and was about to open it to invite Mr. Zhao when she suddenly heard her lady's sharp shout from behind: "Wait a minute!"

Looking back, the lady was holding the rice paper tightly in her hand, trembling slightly, and her face looked weirder than ever before.

That was an emotion the maid had never seen on her face.

The voice of the oiran lady was urgent and sharp: "Who, who sent the poem, which gentleman, tell me quickly!!"

The maid was startled and muttered: "It seems that the surname is Yang..."

The oiran lady rushed to the door desperately.

"Madam, madam... How can you go out looking like this? You can't..." The maid hugged her tightly.

"Let me go, let me go quickly." Fuxiang blushed anxiously, "Don't let that young man go, chase him back quickly."

The maid couldn't figure it out. Just a poem made her lose her composure like never before. She completely ignored her usual well-educated, courteous and gentle nature.

"Madam, please be patient for a moment. I will go immediately... to invite the young master who wrote the poem."

After the maid left, the oiran woman sat at the table in disheveled clothes, looking at the paper in her hand in a daze.

"The sparse shadows are slanting across the clear water, and the faint fragrance is floating in the moonlight at dusk....Giving the floating fragrance, giving the floating fragrance..."

Big tears rolled down her pretty face, and she lay on the table and started crying.

...

In the front hall, some guests left, while others did not.

After the tea party is over, the unsuccessful guests have two choices: First, go to another courtyard to continue the next game. Second, if you are tired after drinking too much, you can choose the maid here to sleep with you.

"This girl Fuxiang won't buy your fault." Xu Pingzhi looked at his nephew with anxiety on his brows.

The poem was sent, but in exchange it was a light sentence.

Obviously, Xu Qian's poems did not impress the oiran.

Xu New Year sneered: "How can a mere woman understand the essence of poetry?"

Xu Pingzhi stared at his son and asked, "That poem by Ning Yan just now is excellent?"

Xu Erlang, who was proud and arrogant, was convinced of his eldest brother in terms of poetry and exclaimed: "Excellent, excellent."

Xu Dalang was equally puzzled. He had absolute confidence in this poem.

This seven-melody poem is very famous. Especially the last two lines are known as the ultimate in praising plum blossoms.

At that time, under the loneliness and frost, two lines of poems became famous throughout the ages - these are the two lines in question.

Two lines of poetry have become famous throughout the ages, what a high evaluation.

"Secret Fragrance" and "Sparse Shadow" have even become the names of the poems, which shows the status of this poem among ancient literati.

Celebrities such as Ouyang Xiu and Sima Guang have given high marks to these two poems.

And the author of this seven-character poem has remained famous throughout the ages... Well, Xu Qian has forgotten who the author is.

This is impossible, there is no reason for her to reject me... If this poem is given to the two great scholars at Yunlu Academy, they can raise me as their own son... Xu Qian thought of a possibility, this

The courtesan, who is said to be a master of both poetry and piano, is actually just a flower stand.

He is just trying to gain fame and sell his personality. He is essentially a person with little education.

But there is a paradox here. If the Fuxiang Courtesan was a vase that sold people's designs, it would be impossible for her to be recognized by literati.

Compared with the hype of artists in previous generations, the oirans of this era also have similar operations, but the latter have real skills.

The reason is very simple. Scholars in ancient times were not as easy to fool as young people in later generations.

With a frown on her face, the maid who was waiting beside Fu Xiang came quickly with small steps, her eyes slightly anxiously searching the crowd. When she saw Xu Qi'an, her expression relaxed, and she came at a leisurely pace, blessed.

Fu's body was lifted up and Jiao Didi said:

"Mr. Yang, did you compose the poem?"

The three Xu family masters looked at each other, feeling relieved.

"It's me." Xu Qian nodded.

The maid smiled, became more respectful, lowered her eyebrows, and said softly: "My wife has invited me."

Xu Qian nodded calmly and followed the maid towards the master bedroom on the other side of the attic.

This scene also aroused the ideas of the guests who planned to stay at "Yingmei Pavilion", and they whispered among themselves.

"Hey, why did he follow me in?"

"This, this...is against the rules. How can two people get in?"

"The maid seemed to be talking about poetry just now, and I happened to see what he and the handsome young man wrote."

A middle-aged man dressed as a rich man walked up to Xu Xinnian and Xu Pingzhi, cupped his hands and said, "Two of you, I wonder what Miss Fuxiang means? Why did that brother get in just now? What poems did you write?"
Chapter completed!