At this time, Mrs. Magatama asked again. Behind her, several maids had already arranged the Four Treasures of the Study.
Glancing at these scholars, Mrs. Gouyu couldn't help but think: "Everyone of them is pretentious on weekdays. They are either knowledgeable or quick-thinking. But when it comes to reciting poems and writing lyrics, they all start scratching their heads..."
"In that case, let me do it." As soon as he finished speaking, everyone saw the rich man who had bought several poems squeeze out of the crowd.
This man's surname was Lu and his given name was Hang. He was the only son of the Hangzhou magistrate.
These rich guys are not short of money. For them, as long as they see the results, the process will not save a penny if they can be solved with money.
He had bought many poems before, and no matter what he wrote, he could recite a few lines.
Since it was a casual work, he just chose one of the poems he bought. At that moment, he picked the one with the most words. After all, the more words he had, the more time he would have to write, and the time when everyone's eyes fell on him would be over.
There are many presidents.
He not only loves beauty, he also loves being in the limelight, and loves the feeling of being surrounded by people, with their eyes focused on him.
He was not polite, and wrote: "Leaning on the railing, I asked who was ashamed. The shadows and shadows are the same. The empty valley has just opened, and the red sleeves are gone. Sighing that the wild geese are leaving, and they will not be here again. Who can relieve their sorrow? Thinking about the old rain, handing over
It's slightly cold, and I can see the cold flowers flying like snow. There are no peaches and plums passing through the courtyard, and the bright moon only leans against the jade stem."
Although this word was bought by Lu Hang, it expressed the pain of lovesickness. At the end of writing, he still felt that it was not enough. He didn't care whether it rhymed or not, so he added another sentence, "When the clear chant evokes the moon, the smoke upstairs
, running water plays with mandarin ducks."
With this, he nodded with satisfaction and put down his pen.
"Flowing water plays with mandarin ducks, wonderful, wonderful." It was not just someone who shouted, but also pointed out the essence of this poem.
Hearing this person's praise, Lu Hang felt indescribably relieved. After all, this sentence was his own. Looking at the person who spoke before, he felt like a confidant.
The other scholars also looked at Lu Hang with admiration. He was the first to blatantly tease Lingyu girl, and the others just speculated about it at night.
Everyone is still writing about lovesickness and autumn moon, but he is the only one who stands out and writes about molestation. He is indeed a member of my generation!
Brother, this is amazing!
Although the first half of the story is very upright and about lovesickness, the last sentence is enough. Everyone is used to seeing the same thing, but they are also willing to read something else.
"Brother, do you have any good words in mind?" A scholar next to Jingzhou poked him and asked with a smile.
Jing Zhou is dressed in white, his eyes are like stars, he is holding a folding fan, and he has a romantic air. His slender figure is extremely conspicuous even among the crowd.
At this time, Mrs. Magatama also turned to look at him. His handsome appearance was so conspicuous that it was difficult for her to ignore it.
No matter what age a woman is, she knows how to look. If given a choice, no young lady would marry a butcher, just like a scholar would look down on a village girl.
Good wine goes with a good pot, good tea goes with good water, which woman doesn't have a "royal brother" dream in her heart, especially the way Jingzhou is dressed like a jade master, the more Mrs. Magatama looks at it, the more she likes it.
It would be even better if there was something in my stomach and I wasn't an ignorant idiot.
"But, why does this young man look so familiar?" Mrs. Magatama frowned and thought deeply for a while, then she remembered that a portrait she had seen before seemed to be carved from the same mold as the young man in front of her.
"That portrait also shows a young man in white holding a folding fan, but there are several more graceful girls behind her."
"However, the portrait is said to have been handed down from the Song Dynasty, and the young master in the painting is the founder of Yanbo Tower. Come to think of it, there is such a thing as fate, and even after thousands of years, they still look so similar.
man of."
After thinking for a while, Madam Magatama became even more curious about Jingzhou. According to legend, the young master in the painting also wrote a good poem with great literary talent. It was the day when the star of Wenqu came down to earth.
Madam Magatama certainly didn't believe this. It must have been added by later generations in order to flatter the founder of Yanbo Tower. How could there be such a perfect person in this world?
"So, you really have to watch it carefully."
Jingzhou doesn't have stage fright either. He told Ren Yingying before that he was good at poetry and calligraphy, and he was not lying.
Not to mention that he could count the five thousand years of Chinese history, discuss Taoism with Confucius, and have a drinking contest with Li Bai, but it was not difficult for him to write lyrics and poems.
"Brothers, let's see the beauty returned in my little brother's arms."
Jingzhou stood outside and shouted this, and naturally some people gave way to him, some nodding and some shaking their heads.
"I don't know which family the young master is from, but he has a good skin. I hope he won't make a fool of himself!"
"If such a person has something in his belly, I think he is probably a clown."
"Oh, brother, what you said is wrong. I think this dear man is very dignified, unlike that unlearned and incompetent person."
It's not that simple to get into Miss Lingyu's eyes. I don't know how many pretentious people have failed before.
I don’t know if the young man in white in front of me can have any good works.
If Jingzhou is really talented and enters the Luhua Pavilion, they and others will have bragging rights, and they will share weal and woe when talking about this matter with others.
Everyone saw Jingzhou walking up to the Four Treasures of the Study, placing the fan on the table, holding the pen, dipped it in ink, and without thinking, he wrote: "A drop of banana sounds like green."
As soon as Jing Zhou finished writing this sentence, an octogenarian old man next to him had a bright look on his face, shook his head, and couldn't help shouting: "Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful," as if these words were written by him.
Several people nearby heard the old man's excited words and couldn't help but think to themselves: "I only wrote seven words, what's so wonderful about it? Is it because I am not very talented and knowledgeable and can't understand the implications?"
They couldn't see what was so wonderful about it, but they were too embarrassed to ask, so they could only frown and take a closer look. Otherwise, wouldn't they be telling everyone that they were just inexperienced and couldn't understand what was so wonderful about it.
"May I ask Mr. Li what's so wonderful about this?"
After all, someone felt itchy and couldn't help asking. People who were not familiar with the old man were embarrassed to ask, but people who were familiar with each other had no worries.
"If you ask me, the young man's thin golden hand has gained nine points of the true inheritance of Wei Zong. His writing is thin and strong, his grace is graceful, and he vaguely calls himself a sect. This writing is really wonderful."
The old man tugged on his beard and shook his head, looking intoxicated.
The old man's explanation almost made the young people stagger before him. They were thinking about how wonderful the verse was, but the old man was looking at the words and writing well. They were not thinking about the same thing at all.
At that moment, they also calmed down and looked at Jingzhou's handwriting, and they really felt that his thin golden hands were extremely beautiful.
The characters on the rice paper have sharp edges hidden in the folds, showing off their pride, as if cutting through gold and jade.
This thin gold body sword is eccentric, it is difficult to practice, difficult to learn and master, and it is rare to see anyone using this font.
It's not that this font is not beautiful, on the contrary, compared with the solemnity of Yanliu's two-timing script, this thin gold script has the charm of bamboo orchid, is sonorous and powerful, and the strokes are like swords, making it more elegant and beautiful.
However, since Emperor Weizong of the Song Dynasty, few people have been able to write beautiful thin gold poems.
Moreover, the font of a fallen emperor was not favored by the imperial examination.
Suddenly someone felt that no matter how good Jingzhou's poems were, it was impossible to win the favor of Miss Lingyan with just these handwritings. Perhaps, tonight, the beauty in the arms of this young man in white could really win over.
Jingzhou ignored the words of others, and just finished one stroke, then another, and then wrote: "The sound reminds me of the beginning. When I want to sleep, I still read the old books. I still remember the small characters in Yuanyang, but my hand is unfamiliar. My tired eyes are suddenly lowered and confused,
Watching it again is blurry. The cold rain in the dark window is a solitary light, and all the love is exhausted. How can I still say there is no love?"