Avoiding the crowd, Bai Shan quietly asked Man Bao, "Who did your fifth brother sell Mo Ju to?"
Man Bao recalled it carefully, and it took him a long time to recall, "It seems to be the King of Luzhou, because Yin You said that the King of Luzhou and the King of Yizhou have a good relationship. I asked people in the medicine shop, and this King of Luzhou seemed to be particularly interesting.
Money, so I asked Fifth Brother to sell him the flowers, and the one I sold to him was Mo Ju."
Bai Shan nodded thoughtfully, and couldn't help but quietly inquire about the relationship between Mo Huiyuan or the organizer of this poetry meeting and the King of Luzhou.
As a result, Lu Xiaofo teased him and said, "This is just a small poetry gathering. What does it have to do with the King of Luzhou?"
He said: "The King of Luzhou is the vassal king. To avoid taboos, he will not hold literary and poetry gatherings outside. At most, his family will hold a flower appreciation banquet in his own garden. The flower appreciation banquet at the vassal prince's family will
We people obviously can't get in."
Bai Shan then looked at him and said, "Aren't you a descendant of the Lu family? Why can't you get in?"
Lu Xiaofo said with a self-deprecating smile: "It's just a side branch. Being able to enter the Guozixue with grace is already a remnant of my father's generation."
He glanced at Bai Shan, thinking that he was two years older than him and they were in the same situation, so he couldn't help but remind him: "We are already many steps ahead of others by being able to enter Guozixue. You are too young."
Xiao, there is really no need to be so anxious about getting an official position."
Bai Shan looked up at him for a while and nodded.
Lu Xiaofo knew at a glance that he had not followed his advice, so he just smiled and didn't say much.
It’s hard to talk about deep friendships even if they are just acquainted. If he can just remind me, he has fulfilled his friendship as a friend.
Peng Zhiru walked over quickly, waved to the two of them and said, "Let's go, there's a question in the atrium. I heard that several gentlemen were invited to break up the poems."
Bai Shan went over with them. Man Bao had already found a place to study ink and picked up a pen to write a poem on paper. Bai Erlang beside him was biting the tip of his pen in distress.
Bai Shan walked over and took a closer look at the title hanging outside the pavilion. It was very tacky and was titled Mid-Autumn Festival.
Looking down at Man Bao's poem again, he nodded.
After Man Bao finished writing, she handed him the pen, drew out her poem, spread out a piece of white paper for him and said, "You go ahead and write."
She handed her poem to Bai Erlang and asked him to hand it in, "Okay, don't be embarrassed if you can't think of it. Hand it in for me."
Bai Erlang glanced at her signature and only wrote the character Zhou, then asked: "Why don't you write your full name?"
Man Bao looked around and sighed sadly: "Poetry is not my strong point. This poem can be enjoyed by all. It's better not to be embarrassed and compete for rankings."
Since there is no competition for fame, there is no need to sign the full name.
Bai Erlang read her poem once, and said happily: "I know, your poem is just mediocre, and it won't be famous anyway. If you don't write it well, you shouldn't write it."
"It's better than if you can't even write."
Shirojiro:......
Bai Shan pursed his lips and smiled as he listened. He was silent for a while before writing.
When Mr. Zhuang analyzed the poems with them, he said that good poetry is never empty words, words always exist, and good poetry cannot be produced by just piling up words.
A truly good poem expresses one's aspirations and expresses one's aspirations. Just like a policy statement, it must have something to say, and only then can it move people.
Before he came, he had thought about what kind of problems could arise during the Mid-Autumn Festival?
It’s not the moon, it’s the laurel tree, or it’s the Mid-Autumn Festival that includes everything.
But as a thirteen-year-old boy, what ambitions could he have and what could he complain about?
Of course there is, but no one knows about it, and what he wrote is not quite what he wanted.
But it's much better than before when I only knew how to eat and play.
Bai Shan soaked in ink and slowly started writing...
Man Bao drove Bai Erlang away, turned around and saw that Bai Shan had been silent, so he couldn't help but step forward and saw that he was writing the fifth sentence.
Man Bao couldn't help but fall silent as he read.
Bai Shan finished writing the last sentence and turned to face Man Bao's eyes. There were still tears in his eyes. He smiled and nodded, put down the pen, dried the ink, and handed the poem back to Man Bao.
Bai Erlang said, "This is a poem I composed last night because I couldn't sleep. I just changed two words and I think it's slightly better than last night's poem."
Man Bao nodded and said, "It's very well done."
Bai Erlang, who had just come back, was stuffed with another piece of paper and couldn't help but burst out: "Although I can't write it, don't always ask me to hand in poems. It's very embarrassing."
Man Bao glanced at him, pulled the paper back, glanced back and forth, and then said to Bai Shan: "Sign the signature first. I think your poem is very good and will definitely be rated."
Bai Erlang put his head to read, and his voice gradually became quieter as he read. Although his ability to compose poetry was not very good, he still had the ability to appreciate it.
He couldn't help but look up at Bai Shan, "Did you make this yourself?"
Bai Shan raised his eyelids and said, "Can I still copy someone else's?"
"No, I suspect this was something you two discussed. How can one person write so well? And isn't there someone who writes "Man Bao" on it?
Man Bao couldn't help but give him a thumbs up and said: "You really think about it. I would like to write such a good poem myself, but I don't have the ability yet."
Peng Zhiru, who was not far away, had finished writing and was about to hand it in. When he saw them chatting together, he came over and asked, "Are you all done?"
Man Bao said: "I handed it all in. Look, this is written by Bai Shan."
Peng Zhiru lowered his head to read the poem and glanced at Bai Shan in surprise, "Did you write this?"
Bai Shan nodded.
Peng Zhiru was silent for a moment, then crumpled the poem in his hand and threw it aside, laughing and saying: "Then it will be difficult to show off my poem."
Although Bai Shan's poems are better than those of Bai Erlang and Man Bao, Mr. Zhuang actually said that they are not very good at writing poems, so this is the first time for him to be praised by someone other than Man Bao and Bai Erlang, and he can't bear it.
Live reddish.
Peng Zhiru smiled slightly when he saw it and said, "Brother Bai, why don't you hand it over now?"
Bai Erlang volunteered, "I'll go for you."
After saying that, he tore up the paper and ran away.
Lu Xiaofo also finished writing, and came over and asked, "How good is it? Come and read it with me, and I will decide whether I should also rub this poem."
Although the three of them were admitted to Guozixue together, his ranking was still behind Bai Shan, and he and Peng Zhiru later looked at the posted articles, and seriously speaking, Bai Shan's papers were no worse than Peng Zhiru's.
Especially on two points, his Tie Jing and Mo Yi are not wrong at all, but Peng Zhiru's Mo Yi misses one sentence.
As for the strategy, the two of them discussed it privately. Bai Shan's words were also meaningful, not worse than Peng Zhiru's, and his handwriting was better than Peng Zhiru's.
The two of them guessed at that time that the reason why Bai Shan fell in second place was probably because he was too young and he had just entered Beijing and had not yet established his reputation.
At that time, Peng Zhiru had already visited many people in Beijing and had become somewhat famous.
Lu Xiaofo had always known that among the three of them, Bai Shan was actually the strongest. He was very curious about what this poem he composed was like.