Wen Renzheng became interested. Although Qi Yun had practiced martial arts since she was a child, she was the daughter of a governor and had been familiar with poetry and books since she was a child. In the territory of Jinling, Qi Yun's literary reputation was far-reaching and notoriety. If a talented woman can be called a masterpiece, then she is absolutely extraordinary.
"Great works? How many of them? Could it be the new masterpieces that you, Mr. Qi Liang, have made recently? Come and get them for me to take a look at."
Qi Yun carefully took out three pieces of manuscript paper from her arms and gently unfolded them and handed them to Wen Renzheng: "Grandpa Wen Ren, these three poems are all top-quality works. The poems made by this little boy are not in a hurry for these three poems." One ten thousandth of a poem.”
Wen Renzheng only thought that Qi Yun was being self-effacing. He had heard of Qi Yun's reputation as a talented woman.
Wen Renzheng casually took the three pieces of manuscript paper. Qi Yun's heart tightened as he looked at it. He glanced at it subconsciously, looked around for a while, took a sip of tea from time to time, and then fiddled with Liu Mingzhi's absent-minded fingers. He bit his silver teeth and said secretly: " Let me see how long you can hide it, pretending to be nonsense even though your poems are so good."
As long as Liu Mingzhi thinks of Qi Yun, he will definitely scream injustice. What are he pretending to do? Liu Mingzhi has no idea that the three poems he wrote while drunk were plagiarized.
Or maybe Liu Mingzhi doesn't remember what happened that night at all. The most egregious thing is that he has never been near the desk in the past few days, so Liu Mingzhi doesn't know the poems on the three pieces of rice paper at all.
Wen Renzheng first glanced at the poems casually and didn't pay too much attention to what kind of good poems and lyrics he had not seen at his age. He thought Qi Yun said that these three poems were masterpieces but he had only seen little of the world. .
It’s just that Wen Renzheng is destined to be shocked. Who dares to say that the poems of the poet Li Bai and the poet He Zhizhang are just ordinary masterpieces. Who dares to say that the poems that have been passed down for thousands of years and have been selected into textbooks are not top-quality works. .
Sure enough, the more Wen Renzheng looked at it, the more serious he looked. After reading all three poems, he looked at Qi Yun in shock: "Yunya... Good boy, who wrote these three poems? Can you recommend it to me?" After all, I will definitely have a good three hundred drinks with you."
Li Zheng was attracted by the change in Wen Renzheng's expression. Who is Wen Renzheng? He is the mountain chief of Dangyang Academy. Since Dangyang Academy has the reputation of producing all the talented people in the world, how can the length of a mountain be ordinary? It is impossible for Li Zheng not to be tempted by his poems, which could be admired by Wen Renzheng and make him drink three hundred cups.
Li Zheng cautiously approached and said, "Teacher, I wonder if it's the poem by that master. Can the disciples appreciate it? It's been a long time since the teacher showed such surprise. The student is extremely curious about these three poems."
Wen Renzheng handed two pieces of manuscript paper to Li Zheng, and handed one piece to his granddaughter Wen Renyun Shu. The two of them took it carefully, for fear of breaking the manuscript paper.
Liu Mingzhi also stretched out his hand to wait for Wen Renzheng to give him a piece of manuscript paper. However, after a long time, he did not receive the manuscript paper. Liu Mingzhi took back his right hand and said to Wen Renzheng: "You greedy old man, you are looking down on the young man." Master, I don’t care about it. Isn’t it just good poetry? I can compose it myself.”
Liu Mingzhi looked at the tea cup in his hand and muttered: "The tea cup is so round, the tea is so sweet, the tea leaves are whirring in circles in the cup. What a poem, what a poem, young master, I am a genius, so I don't even bother to read it. How can you not see other people’s masterpieces?”
Liu Mingzhi composed a poem in an instant, and suddenly he felt lonely. In the blink of an eye, he was in the realm of a poem. Who else could he ask besides me, Liu Mingzhi?
"It's so cold at high places." Liu Mingzhi said an inexplicable sentence casually.
Wen Renzheng rolled his eyes at Liu Mingzhi in displeasure. He was recalling the charm of the poem when he was suddenly interrupted. One can imagine his mood.
Li Zheng and Wenren Yunshu also frowned in displeasure. They had not yet fully appreciated the meaning contained in the poems, and were suddenly disappointed by Liu Mingzhi's words about being in a high position.
Only Qi Yun glanced at Liu Mingzhi who was doing nothing and fidgeting with a strange look, and carefully savored the phrase "It's too cold to be at a high place."
Li Zheng suddenly lamented: "Only the water of Jinghu Lake in front of the door, the spring breeze has not changed the old waves. Teacher, how long has it been since you went to see the stream outside the Imperial College gate? The stream is still the same, but teacher, you are not willing to see it. Take a look."
After hearing Li Zheng's words, Wen Renzheng first fell into memories. He was happy and sad for a while, and smiled bitterly: "The old man also raised his head to look at the bright moon and lowered his head to miss his hometown. He was afraid that the children would not recognize each other, so he smiled and asked where the guests came from. But I hope that hearing the broken willows in the nocturne will bring back the love for my hometown."
Li Zheng heard that there were three poems hidden in Wen Renzheng's words. He suddenly remembered that Wen Ren Yunshu had another poem in his hand that he had not read. He stood up hurriedly and walked to Wen Ren Yunshu's side: "Girl, have you finished reading, uncle?" Let’s change with you.”
Wenren Yunshu first looked at the manuscript paper in his hand reluctantly, and then handed the manuscript paper to Li Zheng with a smile.
The sound of swallowing came again, Qi Yun's fist clenched, and the sound of swallowing disappeared.
Li Zheng had a complicated expression after reading "Hearing the Flute in Jinling on a Spring Night": "Teacher, everyone must be missing their hometown. The first two poems have already been titled, directly expressing the homesickness. Only the last poem, "The Young Boy Left Home and the Boss" Return, the local pronunciation has not changed, the hair on the temples has faded, and the title has not yet been established. It must be that this person is daydreaming about his fate after returning to his hometown, fearing that the young man will leave home and the elder will return, fearing that the children will not recognize each other."
Liu Mingzhi couldn't help but chuckle when he heard the two old men sighing at each other. Even elementary school girls know the meaning of poems, so what are you talking about?
Liu Mingzhi rolled his eyes and muttered: "Hypocritical." But he never thought of one thing. There was no Tang Zong, Song Zu, Li Bai or Du Fu in the Dalong Dynasty. How did these poems come from Qi Yun's hands.
Wen Renzheng carefully handed the three pieces of manuscript paper to Qi Yun: "I regret that I didn't have the chance to meet a great talent. I, young man of the Qi family, will I be able to meet this distinguished person by name? If there is a chance in the future, it will be great." Go and pay your respects."
Qi Yun glanced at Liu Mingzhi subconsciously: "Grandpa Wenren, what if the person who wrote these three poems is notorious?"
Wen Renzheng frowned subconsciously: "No way, poetry is a work of expressing feelings. People who can write these three poems are definitely not evil people."
Li Zheng also nodded: "Although what the teacher said is a bit arbitrary, it shows that he respects this master's heart, but I think this master is not a bad person."
"Brother Qi, if you hear the broken willows in this nocturne, who can't forget the love of hometown? Shu'er also believes in the judgment of grandpa and uncle that he will not be a treacherous person."
"Grandpa Wenren, these three poems were written by this person overnight. Grandpa thinks he can compose three poems at night. How talented is this person?"
"What? You mean to compose three poems in one night? These three poems are not the result of hard thinking and meditation, but three masterpieces written overnight?"
Qi Yun bit her lip: "Half an hour to be precise."
Wen Renzheng and the others seemed to be shocked: "I composed three poems in half an hour. Even the talented Cao Zijian must not have such talent."
"The teacher is right. Reciting poems correctly can test a person's coping ability and literary skills. If you can really compose three poems in an instant, it is no exaggeration to say that this person's talent is the best in the world."
"Then, this gentleman lingers in the brothel and never comes back, playing around in the brothel all day long?"
"A talented man and a beautiful woman."
"Rebellious."
"Red sleeves add fragrance."
The three people made different comments. Qi Yun glanced at Liu Mingzhi who was playing with the tea cup and biting it lightly with his silver teeth.
"To tell you the truth, Grandpa, I came across these three poems by chance. I also paid a visit to this master, but everyone didn't know anything about his performance. They didn't read the Four Books and Five Classics, or read the Classics and History Collection. Why is that?"
The three people said in unison: "It goes without saying that he is indifferent to fame and fortune and deliberately hides his clumsiness.
