Snowflakes rustle.
The banquet hall returned to its original peace, even more harmonious than before.
Prince Ji Boying did not write poetry immediately, although his heart was already hungry and thirsty.
Regardless of the form of the poem or the subject matter, as long as the poem is written with neat contrasts, it will be considered qualified.
When a drunken courtier wrote a very ordinary poem and was rewarded by the prince, the guests were all excited, and there was a feeling that I could do whatever I wanted.
But inspiration is something I can’t say for sure.
Even in such a warm atmosphere, only a few dozen guests composed more than a dozen poems.
The dialogue is neat, but the charm is not very good.
Only Wei Zhongxiao, the minister of the Ministry of Industry, composed a patriotic poem that amazed everyone.
But it’s just one song, and there will be no follow-up.
Finally, the prince couldn't help it, cleared his throat, and began to recite the four poems Su Xiaoyao had prepared for him.
Two patriotic poems, one praising snow and one praising plum blossoms.
When the prince "humbly" composed these four poems, the whole hall was in an uproar, with all the voices of approval.
In addition to being flattered by everyone because of his status as the prince, more importantly, it is because these four poems are really good.
Even Zhao Wujiang, who was familiar with the Book of Songs, Tang poetry, Song lyrics and Yuan music, couldn't help but nod. The poem was indeed a good poem.
It's just that her daughter is more or less delicate.
Zhao Wujiang glanced at Su Xiaoyao.
At this time, Su Xiaoyao had a soft smile on her face, pursed her lips slightly, and had a touch of rosy on her cheeks, which seemed to be shy.
Zhao Wujiang understood that the prince's poem should have been written by Su Xiaoyao who was diagonally opposite.
When Su Xiaoyao listened to everyone's comments and approval, she naturally beamed with joy.
"His Royal Highness the Prince's poetic attainments really amaze me."
"It's so eloquent that no amount of witty words are enough to describe these four poems."
"Unparalleled! Such talent reminds me of Duke Wen Zheng of the Great Zhou Immortal Dynasty thousands of years ago."
"..."
Listening to the discussions among the guests, Ji Boying felt that her soul was about to float.
He felt indescribably happy.
He knew that there was a lot of exaggeration and flattery in these compliments.
But he couldn't help but like it, and he couldn't help but want to listen to it.
Who can refuse such praise?
He looked at his good brother who was still sitting calmly on the seat next to him, and his smile became stronger. He knew that the reason why his good brother Ji Bochang was so calm was because Ji Bochang had no talent at all.
The calmness he feels now is just a deliberate act, not wanting to lose his composure too much.
However, he, Ji Boying, wanted to make his good brother lose his temper today, just to suppress his good brother!
He wanted to tell everyone, especially his good brother.
Why does the prince supervise the country and King Yin assists the government?
It is natural for him to supervise the country, but why do you, King Yin, assist the government?
What kind of status do you have to be able to handle government affairs with me?
But he couldn't tell everyone directly and forcefully. He wanted to hurt his heart little by little and let his good brother understand the gap between them.
If Ji Bo always knows himself, he should try to let go of this court situation.
Being without talent means having no strategy. If you have no strategy, you will not be able to do the task of assisting the government, let alone sit on the throne.
Even if some conspiracies and tricks were revealed today, they would not come to light.
Ji Boying's smile became gentler. He deliberately did not lower his voice and asked Zhao Wujiang in a voice that everyone on the court could hear:
"Bo Chang, why don't you say anything? Do you have some unique insights?
Or is it that you are singing beautiful poems in your heart?
You might as well chant it and share it with everyone. "
It’s difficult for Zhao Wujiang to do what he did:
"I'm not very good at reciting poetry."
"Hey!" Ji Boying frowned, as if you don't want to hide anymore:
"Brother Huang knows that you are very talented, so why should you be humble?
Is it possible that the poems written out of worry outweighed my brother, the emperor?
You can rest assured, there has never been a first in literature since ancient times, not to mention the deep love between you and me as brothers. Even if you write amazing poems, my dear brother, I will only be sincerely amazed by you. "
