The young students sounded excited and even danced a little, obviously infected by the atmosphere outside.
The Confucian scholars who heard this sentence saw the astonished expressions on each other's faces.
"You...say it again? What exactly happened?" Zeng Gong's face twitched and he asked again.
The latter replied:
"It was indeed these three poems that caused some commotion at first. Today is a literary gathering, and there are many scholars outside. We, the Imperial Academy students, also came to join in the fun. When we learned about this, we followed the direction pointed by the stall owner to find the young master. .
"In the end, no one found him, but he learned that he had traveled all the way. Not only did he complete the family, but every one of them was perfect.
"Nowadays, it has been passed down to ten and hundreds. More and more scholars have come out and inquired from stall to stall. In short, it is very lively outside."
Every song... is perfect?
"Ton."
I don't know who it was, but it made a swallowing sound.
The white-bearded old man took the paper from the student's hand and looked at it for a moment. It was as he said, no less than the three poems.
Where did the monster come from... At this moment, the same thought came to the minds of the great scholars acting as "judges".
Lian Congyun suddenly said: "Is it Mr. He?"
Bachelor Chengzhi glanced at him, shook his head and said:
"Not to mention whether he is good at poetry or not, if it was really him, wouldn't others recognize him early?"
"Don't talk about this anymore...Grand Scholar, Zeng Gong, Lian Guoshou...you all will continue to preside over the literary meeting. I am not feeling well, so I will leave first." A square-faced Confucian scholar suddenly raised his hands and was about to leave.
Another "judge" followed closely:
"I also suddenly remembered that something happened at home."
The literati present were not stupid, and they all left after seeing this, as if they wanted to go find the young master.
Although the cultural gathering is important, it is not interesting to continue reading. How can it be more attractive to join in the fun?
"this……"
Bachelor Chengzhi and others were speechless.
At this time, I suddenly noticed the commotion in the hall below. I walked over and looked down. I was surprised to find a famous scholar in the "auditorium" getting up and walking towards the outside of Wenxuan Building.
As if he had received the news.
And as someone from outside sent a message, more and more scholars called for friends and left in groups.
After a while, a small area became empty underneath.
Although there are still many people who haven't moved, but even though they are present, their hearts have already flown out.
Seeing this scene, the scholars from the Hanlin Academy and the Huaiyuan Academy completely lost their competitive spirit, and they all started talking and asking, how lively it was.
Others got the completed poems and read them loudly, which caused a lot of admiration.
It was a wonderful cultural gathering, but this sudden accident disrupted the atmosphere.
People's hearts are wandering, how can they still have the desire to compete?
"Master Zhang..."
The bachelor Chengzhi looked embarrassed and turned to look at the swordsman from Huaiyuan. He saw that the elegant old man also had a complicated expression. He hesitated and said with a wry smile:
"It seems that if we force the competition to continue, it will be difficult. How about a draw?"
A draw... Several great scholars exchanged glances, then chatted with Duke Lu for a while, and said:
"This...is a good idea."
Wenhui has been competing for several rounds, and the two sides are evenly matched. If it continues, it is hard to say which side will win.
From the perspective of Huaiyuan:
After all, this is the court's home court. As long as the opponent cannot widen the absolute gap, the court will still win as long as the opponent shows a slight favor. It is better to take the opportunity to propose a draw.
From the perspective of the great Confucians:
If we continue, if we want to win, we will most likely have to take sides at the cost of losing our reputation, and I feel a little unwilling to do so.
And if there is a tie, on the one hand, you can avoid losing and the risk of being scolded for not being guaranteed in the late game.
Secondly, both sides of the Wenhui were suppressed by the unknown young master, but in fact, the gods also won.
Just like Mr. He defeated Mo Lin in the past.
Everyone is happy.
With a tacit understanding between the two parties, this decision was quickly passed on.
The "Martial Arts Performance in Huaiyuan" ended in a draw, but the literary meeting continued, but the core was from the competition between the two sides to a group of people commenting, appreciating and completing the poems.
Master Zhang sighed with emotion, glanced at the time, exchanged a few words with Han Qingsong, and left Wenxuan Building.
Han Qingsong asked curiously: "Master, is there something wrong?"
Master Zhang smiled and replied with only four words: "An old friend invited me."
Even without saying any more words, he walked away. Seeing this, Duke Lu hurriedly got up and prepared to enter the palace to report the matter.
The changes in Wenxuan Building are not an isolated case.
As Ji Ping'an walked through Chang'an Street, leaving poems one after another to complete the poems along the way, the news slowly spread like a whirlpool.
…
…
In a certain restaurant.
Today, the venue was also booked, and it was changed to a cultural gathering, inviting a group of talented people from all over the world to gather and ride on the popularity of the "Huaiyuan Martial Arts".
However, compared to Wenxuan Tower, the scale is much smaller, and the quality of the poems produced is not comparable.
The advantage is that singers and dancers are invited to come and add entertainment to the cultural gathering.
At this time, a song and dance ended, a famous scholar exchanged business blows, and the atmosphere was harmonious.
Speaking of today's "martial arts performance", a middle-aged scribe worriedly said:
"I don't know what the situation is like at Wenxuan Pavilion."
A friend at the table said:
"Although Yunhuai Academy claims to be a scholar, it is still a practitioner. It is more of a fussy person, but it is not as talented as me in Shendu."
"That makes sense, not to mention that the referees over there are all Hongru, my god, so they will take care of them." Someone agreed.
"I just hope that I can produce a few good works." An old man shook his head, picked up the wine glass and drank, and hummed:
“In the past two years, there have been fewer and fewer good new poems published.”
There is only one core meaning behind the words: this generation of scholars is not good.
Some young students were unconvinced but unable to argue, so they could only say:
"The poems are nothing more than those themes. The imperial master has already written them all. Doesn't it mean that there is less and less room left for future generations?"
The old man glanced at him and said without saltiness:
"The Imperial Master has left so many fragments, is it not considered 'leftover'? Why haven't you been able to complete a few good ones in these years?"
The young students' chests heaved with anger. If they weren't concerned about their reputation, they would have rolled up their sleeves and performed a full martial arts show.
Just at this moment, a scholar ran in with an excited expression:
"Something big happened! The martial arts show in Wenxuan Building ended in a draw!"
boom--
A group of people were surprised:
"Didn't I just say that the competition over there was very stalemate? If the gap could not be widened, it might be delayed until very late. Why did it suddenly end in a draw?"
The former was out of breath, ran over and brought a cup of tea to moisten his throat, and spit out the foam.
Seeing that everyone's attention had been attracted, he said in surprise:
"It's not a normal tie, but it was overshadowed by a strange young master from across the air. The talents of Huaiyuan and Hanlin Academy have no intention of competing, so we have to do this."
One person suppresses the scholars of both houses from a distance?
This sentence is really eye-catching and contains a huge amount of information. The bickering old men and young students looked at it in surprise and asked questions.
The reporter was very happy and walked Ji Ping'an through Chang'an Street, filling in poems along the way, which attracted the attention of the Imperial College students, and then passed the news to Wenxuan Building. The whole story was narrated.
Several completed sentences were recited louder.
I heard that the readers present were fascinated and excited.
The young student was proud, glared at the old man proudly, got up and ran out:
"Let's go take a look too."
For a time, this cultural gathering was also forced to be suspended. A group of people poured into the street, and they found that people were constantly pouring out of the gates of the literary gatherings around them.
The scene is spectacular.
"Why do so many old people suddenly appear?"
In the crowd, the disciples of the Beast Control Sect were wandering around, and they were startled. Zhao Yuanji's scalp was numb and he subconsciously approached Luan Yu.
The pretty little girl with facial paralysis looked at her brother with disdain and twitched the corner of her mouth:
"hehe."
A smile appeared on the lips of the cold and arrogant female monk. She held Zhao Yuanyang's hand with one hand and the young man with the other. She looked up at the long street with a surge of people, feeling helpless:
"Who knows why these scholars went crazy."
Qi Hongmian only gave his disciples half a day off. He originally wanted to go shopping and relax, but he didn't want to get involved in the crowd. Now it is difficult to exit the long street.
Suddenly, I felt the frustration of arriving at the scenic spot with great expectations and finding that there was no end to the crowd of tourists.
On the other side of the street, the star officials were also stunned. Huang He and others huddled against the wall, listening to a group of people making noises, and finally figured out what was going on.
Immediately they looked at each other:
"A young master leading three female dependents, one large, two young, and young?"
Why does this description sound so familiar?
…
However, what no one knew was that just as the crowds were flocking to Chang'an Street, trying to join in the fun and find Ji Ping'an's whereabouts.
The four people who caused the huge waves had already left here and wandered to the shopping street two streets away.
To be precise, it was Xu Xiurong who took Luo Huaizhu to a rouge and gouache shop when he saw her unkempt appearance.
Ji Ping'an was waiting at the door, watching the three women inside choosing excitedly, and took a long breath, thinking that no matter what world he was in, going shopping with a woman was a hard job.
I happened to feel a little hungry, so I found an excuse to leave temporarily.
Then he checked the direction, suddenly remembered something, walked through the streets paved with bluestones, turned around, and arrived at a secluded wonton shop.
The shop is not big, with only three or five tables set up inside. It is a shop in the front and a house in the back.
A wooden plaque has withstood the wind and rain, and there is no doubt that it is a time-honored brand.
It was not yet time for dinner, and there were no customers in the store.
When Ji Ping'an walked in, a man in his thirties came up to him with a smile:
"This is a new guest. It's your first time here."
It's the first time...let's count it in this life...Ji Ping'an smiled and nodded.
The man took off the rag from his shoulder, wiped the clean table vigorously, asked him to sit down, and said at the same time:
"Then you've come to the right place. Our shop has been here since my grandfather's time. Our ancestors have been making wontons in clear soup for generations. You can't find a second one in Shendu City."
Ji Pingan listened with great interest and said:
"My elders used to come here often and told me."
"when?"
"About twenty or thirty years ago."
"Hey, that's too early. It was still when my father opened the store."
"Yeah, it's been so many years in the blink of an eye."
After chatting for a while, the man felt that this young master was a bit strange. He clearly said it was his first time here, but his tone sounded like he had been here before.
But he didn't think much about it and turned to work in the kitchen. Behind him, a woman in her thirties looked out curiously.
It's like a mom-and-pop shop.
Ji Ping'an sat in a familiar position with a smile in his eyes.
What he didn't say was that he had been coming to this store from time to time many years ago.
It's just that he has never revealed his identity and only pretends to be an ordinary person.
When Hanzi's grandfather opened the store, he ate here.
When the man's father opened a shop, he often came to eat there.
I can even remember that decades ago, when the man was only as tall as the legs of the table, every time he came over to eat, he would hide in the back kitchen and peek at him with a little fear.
In a flash, the children of those days had grown up, married, had children, and inherited the crafts and shops of their grandfathers and fathers.
And he is still sitting here.
Just like former friends and enemies, no matter the depth of grievances or how many past events, they are no match for the passage of time. Each one turns into loess and dissipates in the long river of time.
Only you are still there.
"Your Majesty, your little wontons." The middle-aged man came over with a porcelain bowl and handed over clean bowls, chopsticks and wooden spoons.
"Thank you." Ji Pingan smiled.
The man who heard this was stunned for a moment. He was probably not used to it. He wiped his hands on his apron slightly awkwardly and said with a smile:
"You're welcome."
Ji Ping'an picked up the wooden spoon and took a sip of the soup. Feeling the familiar yet unfamiliar taste, he felt a little distracted.
Suddenly, he slowly raised his head, looking through the rising hot steam, he saw two more people coming outside the door.
Those were the two old men who came together.
One was wearing a Confucian shirt, with an elegant temperament, a goat's beard, and thin and dense crow's feet at the corners of his eyes.
The other one was actually an old monk, wearing a green robe and cloth shoes. He seemed to be seventeen years old, with a compassionate expression. His eyebrows and beard were pure white, without any color, just like the snow that covered the courtyard in early winter.
If there are any high-ranking figures in the divine capital here, they will definitely recognize them at a glance. These two people are clearly Zhang Fuzi from Huaiyuan and Master Xueting, the abbot of Baita Temple in the divine capital.
He is a guest of the princes and nobles, a well-known eminent monk.
It's a pity that the middle-aged man doesn't have such a discerning eye, and is only surprised by why strange customers came to the door one after another today - this kind of shop mainly deals with regular customers, and such situations are not common.
"You two gentlemen, please come in quickly. Look at your faces. This is your first time."
Same lines.
Then he wiped the table, invited the two of them to sit at the same table, and soon brought two bowls of their signature clear soup wontons, and then returned to the kitchen without disturbing them.
After Master Zhang and Monk Xueting entered the door, they only glanced at Ji Ping'an casually. They didn't recognize Ji Ping'an and thought they were guests here, so they didn't pay attention.
At this time, two old friends who had not seen each other for many years were sitting opposite each other, and the atmosphere was quiet and peaceful.
Master Zhang said with emotion:
"I didn't expect you to meet here."
The old monk with a compassionate expression and gray eyebrows sighed:
"I may not have been here for many years. In the past, when the Imperial Master was still alive, it is said that he often came here in the form of a mortal. Only then did I know about this small shop. Later, I came here occasionally, and I still had the intention of meeting the Imperial Master by chance. Unfortunately, After all, there is no such fate.”
Master Zhang’s eyes also showed nostalgia:
"Who is not? I was like this in the past. We were still young at that time. If we wanted to see the true face of the Imperial Master, we could only use this stupid method. In the blink of an eye, these many years have passed, and I rarely come to Shendu. You I have lived here for a long time, and I am afraid that I have forgotten the Tang Dynasty."
The snow court monk clasped his hands together and said slowly:
"What difference does it make if the Buddha is in your heart, whether you are in the Zhou Dynasty or the Southern Tang Dynasty?"
…
ps: The typos will be corrected first and then the 9,000 words will be in place today.
(End of chapter)
