After a long time, Qi Hua came to his senses from the words first. He exclaimed with red eyes: "Absolute, absolutely amazing. I seem to have seen the regrets of my twenty years. The years are merciless and the lover is no longer here."

"May I ask, sir, what is the name of this word? Is it a new word brand?" Hongxiu, who had just finished her sentence and had not yet written the title, asked happily.

Zhou Bai looked at the tall Tingshan Mountain and said sadly: "The water waves at the foot of the mountain are washing the sand and stones rolling down the mountain day after day. The word card is called Langtaosha, Langtaosha·Wish the wine to the east wind."

When he just read this poem, Zhou Bai kept thinking about the story of Tingshan and the stream. The stream was once a big river.

"There are really born poets in the world. No, you should be called a master of poetry and lyrics now. As long as the musicians compose the music, all the brothels will compete to sing it." Qi Hua recited it over and over again, looking at Zhou Bai with a burning gaze.

Zhou Bai felt a chill on the back of his neck and couldn't help but take a few steps back and said, "I'm just showing off my embarrassment to express my feelings about the landscape here."

At the same time, looking around the Canglan Pavilion, the other people were no better than Qi Hua. They all admired him eagerly and even had some respect.

In ancient times, poems were written in seven steps, and today, lyrics are written in seven steps. If Langtaosha can be passed down, those who participated in the poetry meeting will also be the promoters of good stories.

"Oh? I didn't expect Brother Zhou to know the landscape of the county." At this time, a local from the county asked with confusion.

Zhou Bai's face remained as usual as he recalled: "Well, I occasionally read the legend here from the unofficial history books on the bookstall. I heard that this stream was originally called Canglan River, which leads directly to the Ningjiang River in Honshu. She accompanied Tingshan on several walks.

After thousands of years, I never thought it would be like this now..."

He didn't know if the mountain god of Tingshan was looking at him, so he could only try his best to make sure there were no mistakes in his words.

The exchange and collision of texts and ideas continues.

As the sun sets, the two sides of the pavilion are already covered with poems. The pages of ink are floating in the breeze, seeming to spread literary spirit into the mountains.

Originally, with the pearl and jade in front, the poetry meeting later should be more lively, but this pearl and jade is too shining, and no matter what poems are written later, everyone finds it boring.

Sun Yucheng tried his best to write an excellent seven-melody poem. If it had literary spirit, it would definitely be filled with red air, but it did not cause many waves in Canglan Pavilion.

Of course Qi Hua is fair, relying on his ability to appreciate poetry temples, he insisted on hanging Sun Yucheng's Qilu poem behind Langtaosha, ranking second.

Although Qi Hua passed the Tongsheng examination and has been dragging his feet to get the honors, there is no doubt about Qi Hua's family education.

Qi's father's teachings and the teachers hired by the family with large sums of money were all famous people.

The birds returning to the forest in the mountains made a splash, and the warm sunset cast a long oblique shadow on Canglan Pavilion.

Qi Hua picked up his wine glass and stood in the center. Everyone in the pavilion also expected something and stood up one after another.

"Every banquet in the world comes to an end. The Tingshan Poetry Festival is coming to an end. This is a small gift for everyone. Thank you for coming to support Qi."

A row of maids brought exquisite wooden boxes to everyone. No one shied away, but accepted them with a tacit understanding.

When everyone was preparing to say goodbye and leave, Qi Hua reminded a group of people in the inner circle: "If the owner of the calligraphy treasure in the first row is willing to present a poem to Tingshan, you can stay for a while."

The people in the outer circle left one after another without stopping. A few people in the inner circle shook their heads, as if they had known the inside story for a long time, and they took down the poems hanging in their temples and left.

"Let's go. I'd better keep this manuscript for myself. I heard it can preserve literary spirit."

"Yes, it would be fine if it were dedicated to the Confucian Temple or the official god of the imperial court. I have never heard of the Tingshan Mountain God."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Qi, but I still can't accept burning my own calligraphy treasure..."

All kinds of discussions gradually dissipated as he left, but there were only a few calligraphy paintings hanging on Canglan Pavilion.

Zhou Bai knew that this was the highlight, but his face was full of doubts. He looked at the crowd going down the mountain and followed suit.

Unexpectedly, Qi Hua hurriedly ran in front of Zhou Bai and said eagerly: "Brother Zhou, wait a moment, please be sure to stay in Langtaosha, even if I owe you a favor!"

The Tingshan Poetry Meeting started two years ago. Qi Hua always wanted to burn the proceeds from the poetry meeting to Tingshan in the end, but he never asked anyone to burn it. This would set a precedent for stopping Zhou Bai.

"Since Brother Qi has a request, of course I will agree. Then can I leave?" Zhou Bai smiled slightly and said generously.

Qi Hua looked at the dim color on Wangting Mountain, shook his head and said, "Brother Zhou, it's best to wait. There may be unexpected benefits."

The people who were not leaving the pavilion at this time were Zhou Bai, Qi Hua, and Sun Yucheng.

Sun Yucheng didn't need Qi Hua to say anything, so he took off the calligraphy treasure and handed it to him and said: "Brother Qi sacrifices writing to the gods. Of course I can't miss such a lively event."

According to common sense, Sun Yucheng should also leave. The first draft of the red poem by the descendants of the Qi family can be presented to the ancestral temple.

But he met an old Taoist priest some time ago, who directed him to go to Tingshan Mountain to find an opportunity.

Sun Yucheng recalled the nagging appearance of the old Taoist god, and thought he was a Feng Shui master who wanted to cling to the Qi family. Unexpectedly, the current situation seemed to be different. Stay?

And if Qi Hua invites Zhou Bai again, he will never leave.

Qi Hua smiled at Sun Yucheng and said: "Master Qi's seven-rhythm poem is full of ink, of course it can be kept, but the mountain gods will not like these poems."

Zhao Liangji and others were stunned, their faces immediately darkened, and they were so embarrassed and angry.

However, neither Qi Hua, the heroic cavalry officer, nor the Qi family, the commander-in-chief behind them, could offend them, so they could only look at Sun Yucheng silently.

How could Sun Yucheng make the decision for them? He stepped forward and whispered a few words, which seemed to be comfort and a promise.

In the end, there were only three of them left in the pavilion, and even a group of servants retreated to the intersection at the foot of the mountain to guard.

If Qi's mother hadn't warned him, Qi Hua would have driven him home directly.

The worship tools are very simple, a wooden table with a sandalwood incense burner and a brazier on it.

Zhou Bai sniffed the lingering scent of sandalwood, which was mellow and refreshing.

I don’t know what this means. Why don’t you offer incense to worship? It’s like offering it to them.

Qi Hua put three pages of poems into the brazier. The hand holding the fire folding piece was obviously a little tense, and the fire started to burn. It only took a moment for the three pages of rice paper to be burned.

The ashes blew into Tingshan Mountain with the cold night wind. Qi Hua was very nervous. The records of his ancestors could not be false. This had happened for several years.

"No, Qi Hua, there's something wrong with your sandalwood?!" Zhou Bai suddenly felt drowsy in his head, as if he had been drugged, and he felt very sleepy.

However, when he woke up, it was too late. The last scene before falling asleep was Sun Yucheng lying on the steps out of the pavilion.

Zhou Bai thought of the mountain gods of Xiaoqingshan. Unless the bond was too deep, they would mostly meet in dreams.
Chapter completed!