Zhu Jinwen raised his head and tilted his head.
A piece of bird shit fell from the sky and almost fell into his mouth.
He shook his head with a dark look on his face: "How could the inspiration for this article fall from the sky!"
Zhou Dagu looked pitiful: "Sorry, I forgot, you are not me, and all that falls in your sky is bird poop!"
"How can I understand what it means that an article is made by nature and can be obtained accidentally by a good hand!"
Zhu Jinwen suddenly opened his eyes wide and recited this sentence silently: "The article is made by nature, and it comes by chance!"
"I already believe that you are the real Zhou Dagu!"
Professor Han stood behind the two of them. He usually couldn't hear what outsiders said, but his ears were extremely sensitive this time. He chewed on what Zhou Dagu said: "Articles are made by nature, but they are found by chance!"
Professor Han is a third-level Confucian scholar, but he only serves as a small professor of civil studies. No one knows why, only he knows the reason.
But I have been holding this question in my heart for decades, and I have long been unable to tell anyone about it!
No one who can listen to him is gone, and the problem can only be kept in his heart.
Hearing Zhou Dagu's words, a flash of inspiration suddenly flashed through his mind, which had been dull for decades. Something slowly opened, but he didn't know it at the moment.
But this sentence became more and more deeply engraved in his mind.
It seems to be somewhat beyond the status of the sage's words that he has been chanting in his mouth.
He was surprised, but he didn't know why.
Zhou Dagu didn't take into account the critical impact of his few words on the people around him. He searched the mansion with his eyes, and a little golden man in the purple mansion was also flipping through the books.
What on earth are you writing!
Professor Han was deep in thought and unconsciously walked into Zhou Dagu. Zhou Dagu leaned back and saw half of the buttons on Professor Han's body.
Tight seams?
Got it!
Zhou Dagu took the pen from Zhu Jinwen's hand and put it down.
In the mansion school, it suddenly became quiet, and students from all around gathered around.
Zhao Sihu also stood on tiptoes and couldn't help but glance at the desk in front of Zhou Dagu.
When Zhu Jinwen was taking the exam recently, Zhou Dagu stopped writing and dipped his pen ink. He read out the poem on the paper: "A needle that has been hammered a thousand times after a hundred refinements will move upward after being turned upside down."
"this……"
Niu Ruxian smacked his lips: "It's well written!"
Professor Han shook his head at the side: "You think it's well written. Do you think this poem can be a good poem?"
"The article is indeed good, but there is something missing!"
Zhao Sihu even snorted proudly: "Of course it's less, it lacks some talent, but it's more like a pretentious limerick!"
"If the poem was written by an old master who studied things, it would be really good. It could describe the past and functions of needles!"
"But, you are Zhou Dagu!"
Zhao Sihu waved his hands to the left and right: "You should watch the door carefully and don't let a fly fly out!"
There were also many students standing at the door of the freshmen class. They seemed to include young and old.
Many old people were thinking about Zhou Dagu's poems: "The writing is not bad, but it's a pity that like me, the craftsmanship is too strong!"
"With this kind of literary talent, it's okay to pass the examination, but it will be difficult to get higher up. If you can't change it, I'm afraid you will be like me and become a stubborn stone in the imperial education for the rest of your life!"
"Who is this person?"
"Zhou Dagu!"
"Zhou Mingzhou? No way!"
"How is it possible? Zhou Dagu only has this little talent for poetry!"
No one in the government school doubted that the person who wrote the poem was not a literati, but they all began to doubt whether he had written Zhou Mingzhou, which was once promised to be the best in the world.
Zhao Sihu heard everyone's doubts and felt that he had a chance to win.
The high level of talent in the poem shows that this craftsmanship poem has left the county.
He knew that the person in front of him was indeed Zhou Mingzhou, but so what, I could have wronged you, how could I not know how wronged you were.
Zhao Sihu sneered, does the truth matter?
The important thing is that if Zhou Dagu entered the government office today, it would be difficult for him to get out!
When he saw the talent in the original manuscript of the poem, he felt much less guilty. There was no shortage of talented people writing ingenious poems in Xiangzhou.
Zhou Dagu heard everyone's words, but he didn't care.
He understands this poem. This poem is different from other poems. Some poems are handed down from generation to generation, but only the last line of this poem is handed down from generation to generation.
Others are not well known.
It’s normal to have no talent.
He shook his head and whispered: "Don't rush to get slapped in the face, it will come more slowly!"
Zhou Dagu regained some of his talent and wrote again: "The eyes are on the buttocks."
"Hahaha!" Zhu Jinwen beside him couldn't help laughing. Even if he was uneducated, he knew that this sentence could only be regarded as a proverb and not a poem.
Shit, piss, and shit are the most unfashionable poems in the eyes of scholars like Fu Xue who believe in their high status.
Niu Ruxian, who was standing next to him, began to appreciate Zhou Dagu's poetic talent more and more: "This scholar has my style of writing poetry!"
Professor Han stepped forward, and his blurry vision gradually became clearer. He could clearly see the article on the paper from the crowd: "Butts grow on eyes, this..."
"Vulgar!" Outside the door, an old scholar like Lao Juren had already cursed.
The old Juren was in his fifties, and according to the law, he should have filled the vacancy long ago. He just wanted to pass the Jinshi examination and enter the Hanlin Academy. He had never wanted to go to a remote county to be a county magistrate. In his eyes, he was lucky to spend his whole life writing about saints.
Naturally, there was no room for such vulgar words in his eyes: "How can such poems be written in the holy land of Fu Xue? This is not an insult to Fu Xue!"
"Kick him out, don't let him finish writing!"
Zhao Sihu stood up, like a kind person, and spoke to console him: "Old Mu, don't worry, let him finish writing. I still have to rely on this vulgar poem to prove that I am Zhou Mingzhou, who has extraordinary poetic talent!"
Zhao Sihu looked proud, and he didn't even have to speak now. With this poem, no one in the government school would think that the Zhou Dagu who wrote the poem in front of him was Zhou Dagu.
"Alas! I didn't expect the demons of the Lotus Sect to be so stupid!" Zhao Sihu looked at Professor Han, only to find that he was staring at Zhou Dagu with a frown on his face.
When Professor Han came out of the inner hall, he met a person. He learned from that person that the person in front of him was Zhou Dagu.
Therefore, he had no doubt about Zhou Dagu's identity.
But, how could Zhou Mingzhou write such vulgar poems? Is Zhou Mingzhou’s nickname fake?
wrong!
Professor Han took a step forward, and he saw that the talent on the desk had not weakened because of this vulgar poem, but was actually increasing.
Before the poem is completed, talent is related to the feelings expressed in the poet's heart.
Could it be that this little poem is not as simple as it seems?
Professor Han had expectations in his heart. This expectation was not only because of Zhou Dagu's name, but also because of the vision of the person who just spoke to him.
He believed that that person would not send him a message just because he was a loser.
Zhou Dagu lowered his head, and all the talents in his body poured into his hands. This famous sentence from the ages finally left his brain and fell on the pen relying on the support of his talents.
Poems come to fruition.
In an instant, the golden light in the mansion school surged!
