Zhou Dagu's closed eyes suddenly opened.
In the eyes of others, he was making up ideas, and only he knew it, just to copy accurately.
Poems pass through the brain, are transmitted to the nerves, and converge on the fingertips.
The pen moves!
The talent instantly rose to nine inches high.
Amidst the dazzling golden light of talent, a bell rang in the Caixian Confucian Temple shrouded in the early morning.
Next to the county school, there is a dilapidated and low-rise house.
The sleeping naughty boy opened his eyes on the bed: "Four times this month!"
He didn't feel at all that the enlightenment energy that had originally dispersed from his body became more solid at this moment.
Talented poems, town bells in the Confucian Temple.
When the literary bell rings, talent rises.
Inside and outside the riverside pavilion.
Before people could see the original lines of the poem clearly, they already knew that this poem had left the county!
Magistrate Guo, who was nearest, was shocked. His talents gathered in his eyes and he clearly saw that Zhou Dagu only wrote one sentence!
What a poetic talent!
"Half smoke and half rain beside the river pavilion!"
The morning fog has not completely dissipated. After the wet fog recedes, it seems like a real rain has fallen on the earth.
The golden talent spreads out.
People inside and outside the Jiangpan Pavilion twitched their noses as if smelling the fragrance of flowers.
Zhang Xianwei pointed to the hanging willows outside and was about to shout loudly.
Master Zhang knew his cousin's loud voice, so he stepped forward and covered his mouth: "Shut up!"
Master Zhang wanted to scold him, but when he looked in the direction of his gaze, he saw countless flowers blooming on the branches: "Apricot and peach blossoms are blooming?"
"Vision? Dafu poem?!"
"Just... just one sentence to reach the mansion?" Master Zhang felt both happy and sad.
He stuffed the poems in his sleeves inside.
I was in a good mood last night and started writing poetry. I unexpectedly wrote a poem about leaving the county.
This is not the kind of Maomao county poems written by Mr. Hou. The county poems written by Master Zhang, his poetic talent is nine inches high in an instant.
After he finishes writing, with only a hint of talent missing, he will be able to reach the top and become a Dafu poem.
Master Zhang originally wanted to show off in front of others, so he took advantage of Zhou Dagu's word of mouth to spread it in front of everyone, in order to increase his talents.
In history, there are many poems in itself. They were written when they were out of Dafu, County. But as they were praised by others, their talents continued to increase and they were promoted to one level.
This is a common thing in the cultural context.
Master Zhang put his hands together.
Lieutenant Zhang saw his brother's embarrassment: "Brother, you are not!"
Master Zhang hugged his brother and sealed his mouth to preserve his old face.
I really don’t dare to show my shame anymore!
Lieutenant Zhang was a vulgar martial artist, and he broke free from Master Zhang's arms in two seconds. He wanted to talk again, but suddenly he smelled the fragrance of flowers around him, and his mood inexplicably weakened.
"This smell?"
People inside and outside the riverside pavilion were surprised at each other. Looking around, they found wild flowers everywhere, including apricot and peach blossoms.
Master Zhu is a little strange. People in the world hate the pain of separation. Why is there so much meaning in Dagu's poems?
He lowered his head, looked through the golden talent, and saw the font on the paper: "I have indeed made a lot of progress, and my recent calligraphy practice has had some effect."
He didn't know clearly, but Zhou Dagu stopped pretending.
In his previous life, he loved drinking tea and practicing calligraphy.
This is not his hobby, it is the hobby of those who need him to please.
Master Zhu frowned and read softly: "The apricots reflect the peaches on the mountain road."
He raised his head and looked at the mountain in front of the official road. This mountain was the last isolation zone after Yumen Pass.
But it is also the most important reason for ruining the cultural context of Caixian County.
There are two flowers blooming on the mountain road that should be covered with green grass.
Since he came to Cai County, he has tried many times, but he has never seen the fruits on both sides of the road taste better.
It is expected that after being nourished by poetry, when it bears fruit, the children who come to pick the fruit will not spit it out again.
Master Zhu looked up, only to find that everyone present seemed to be under control, with different expressions on their faces, including sadness, regret, and happiness.
People in the world know that parting is painful, but they don’t know that the joy of reunion is greater than anything else.
Zhou Dagu put away his pen and looked up at the people around him.
He bent and stretched, waved to Master Zhu, turned around and drove the carriage away.
People around me are still immersed in the artistic conception described in the poem.
The sound of horse bells woke up Magistrate Guo. He suppressed the smile on his lips and wondered what he had just remembered.
He raised his head and looked into the distance. Zhou Dagu stood on the carriage and waved to him.
"Zhou Mingzhou!" County Magistrate Guo shouted, waking up the others.
People inside and outside the Jiangpan Pavilion lowered their heads and looked at the desk.
"Where's Zhou Mingzhou?"
"Weren't you still sitting here just now?"
"Look there, he's on the official road!"
"Zhou Mingzhou!"
"Zhou Mingzhou, walk slowly!"
Everyone in Cai County ran out of the riverside pavilion, wanting to see Zhou Dagu off again.
But I didn't know where the spring breeze came from.
It caused the willow branches at two places along the official road to sway, and a small group of white catkins fell from the branches.
The spring breeze swayed in the air, standing between everyone and Zhou Dagu.
It's warm spring in April, and suddenly it seems to be snowing heavily.
Fan Zijin stood in front of the crowd, watching Zhou Dagu leave, and some seeds quietly sprouted in his heart.
There is no first place in literature, one day.
"I want to surpass Zhou Mingzhou in my poetry journey!"
"There's no hope!" Mr. Hou's frivolous voice sounded beside him.
"Why!" Fan Zijin moved his wrist slightly.
Mr. Hou raised his left hand, which was a ball of catkins: "The vision has come true!"
Fan Zijin quickly raised his head, and the catkins in the sky were like heavy snow hitting his face: "As expected of Zhou Mingzhou, another Mingzhou poem!"
Inside and outside the riverside pavilion.
The crowd once again gathered in front of the desk.
In the catkins of the sky.
The talent for poetry on the table fell.
County Magistrate Guo was the first to pick up the poems on the table and read them carefully: "Half smoke and half rain beside the river pavilion, reflecting apricots reflecting on the peach mountain road."
The illiterate merchant in front of him was also a little anxious at the moment.
"County magistrate, what's next!"
Magistrate Guo shook his head and suddenly put down the poem in his hand. He walked to the pavilion and raised his hand, and catkins fell down: "Oh, I miss her again!"
After saying goodbye to Qingxue Mansion, I wonder if she is okay now?
As a member of the aristocratic family, everything comes from the family, and he must dedicate everything he has to the family.
Most of them are involuntary.
Qiao Xian Cheng lowered his head to look at the original manuscript of poems on the table, and read the last sentence with a smile: "I will leave you infinitely, and thousands of threads will stir up the spring breeze."
The wind is getting stronger.
Among the catkins, people looked at the poems and somehow remembered the separation.
Parting is painful, parting is painful, parting is many, but love is infinite.
Master Zhu sighed even more.
He missed Kyoto again.
He casually picked up the original poem on the table and said, "To all the gentlemen of Cai County, Zhou Dagu!"
A vulgar warrior and a businessman who only cares about profit, he always has a smile on his face.
"To the gentlemen of Cai County, this is a Mingzhou poem. It must be recorded in the county annals. It is inevitable for the government annals. If our names cannot be written in the imperial annals, why can't my name be included in the county annals?"
"Yes! At this moment, I can't wait to leave my name in Qingshi!"
"Zhou Mingzhou is righteous!"
"Thank you Zhou Mingzhou!"
Master Zhu looked proud and rolled up the original poem: "Everyone, you don't need to thank me. This is what a young disciple should do!"
Others didn't realize anything was wrong and gave him a thumbs up.
However, Qiao Xiancheng discovered the clue earlier: "Old man, put down the original manuscript of the poem for me!"
Magistrate Guo turned around in panic and saw a Taoist talisman in Master Zhu's folded hands.
I saw a flash of fire and the talisman burning.
Master Zhu's figure disappeared in the pavilion by the river in an instant: "Humph! Of course I want to keep my disciple's manuscript. Everyone, I'm still making soup at home, so I'll take my leave now!"
Magistrate Guo gritted his teeth: "The poem in Early Spring is yours, how can I leave this poem to you now and give it back to me Cai County's calligraphy treasure!"
Magistrate Guo had a large county pen in his hand. The pen had no ink, and in a moment he wrote a poem in the air.
This is a unique ability of the third-level realm. At the third-level realm, writing poetry can be separated from carrying things.
The golden light of the poem flashed, and the wind blew under Magistrate Guo's feet, carrying him away: "Let me stay with the surnamed Zhu!"
Master Zhang slowed down a step and threw out a manuscript from his sleeve. The poems on the manuscript fell aside, and a horse appeared. He turned on the horse and said, "I am the Master, in charge of education. I should record these Mingzhou poems first. Don’t fight for your spot.”
Outside Cai County, the scene was extremely lively.
In Qingxue Mansion, the sound of a bell in the Confucian Temple also woke up the sleeping people.
In the Zhou Confucian Temple, the literary bell rang again, and the literati in Qingxue Mansion no longer felt sleepy.
