At the same time, Confucian Saint Palace.
Many great scholars fell into intoxication at this time and could not extricate themselves for a long time. It was not until Fang Yi finished composing this poem and caused various strange phenomena that they finally woke up from a dream.
Everyone looked at each other, but fell silent again. Some scholars wanted to say something, but when the words reached their lips, they swallowed them.
At this moment, anything you say will destroy the artistic conception, and anything you say will seem feeble.
This is just too well written to comment (cross out).
Until the great scholar who said "Fuck, what a good word" at the beginning, murmured his lips and said those four words again: "Fuck, what a good word!"
The scholars below immediately began to agree, because saying anything else at this moment is too redundant, too redundant! !
As a result, the voices of "fuck, good words" kept coming and going.
Until Mr. Da's eyes returned to normal, he glared at all the Confucian scholars: "They are all Confucian scholars with profound knowledge. How can it be unbecoming to say such vulgar words in public!!"
Then, Mr. Da silently gave a thumbs up: "Damn, what a great word!!"
The great scholars calmed down and began to analyze the poem carefully. Although "fuck, what a great poem" still echoed in their minds, after all, they were all profound scholars, so they could naturally analyze the poem. good or bad.
"To tell you the truth, although poetry is a minor topic, I have quite a lot of research on it." An older Confucian spoke at this time.
"It turns out to be Brother Daoyuan." A great scholar recognized the old scholar who spoke. It was Qian Daoyuan, a great scholar who studied poetry intensively.
Everyone is familiar with this old Confucian and believes in his knowledge. Therefore, everyone wants to hear what this great Confucian thinks of this Mid-Autumn Festival poem.
"This poem is so damn good...it's so well written." Qian Daoyuan saw all the great scholars looking at him, and he almost burst into Chinese quintessence when he was so excited, but luckily he managed to avoid it. Timely: "This Mid-Autumn Festival poem has a wonderful conception. Compared with the previous ancient poems, it is a different approach. I believe that this will be the swan song of Mid-Autumn Festival poems."
When the scholars present heard this, they all nodded and expressed their approval. This poem is definitely the best ancient poem about the full moon of the Mid-Autumn Festival in all ages.
Even if there are countless good ancient poems describing the full moon in the Mid-Autumn Festival, they all pale in comparison to this song "Shui Tiao Ge Tou".
Even if the Four Saints are resurrected, they may not be able to compose such poems.
"This word is good because it combines reality and fiction. When I read Shangque, I just feel the vastness in my heart, with the breath of immortals descending to the mortal world, but Xiaque suddenly pulls people back to reality. From ancient times to the present, things are never perfect, but The finishing touch in the last sentence made the entire poem sublime into a famous poem through the ages. I hope that people will live forever and share the beauty of the moon thousands of miles away! The interweaving of reality and reality is a stroke of genius!" At this time, a great scholar also spoke analytically.
"Such a good poem, it can be said that the whole poem is full of good sentences. I suggest that when compiling a collection of poems again, this poem should be made a must-read list for students all over the world to appreciate and study." Another great Confucian also said the same.
"This word makes people climb high and look into the distance, raise their heads and sing, and feel proud and majestic, transcending the dust and dirt." A great scholar named Hu also said at this time.
"Since the Mid-Autumn Festival poems were published in "Shui Diao Ge Tou", all other poems have become obsolete." Another great scholar stroked his beard and praised.
"This word is the pen of an immortal that transforms into a human being."
For a time, most of the great scholars commented on this poem, and their comments were full of praise.
Until a certain great scholar spoke loudly to everyone: "Everyone, I think this word can be described in eight words."
At this time, all the eyes of the great scholars were focused on that great scholar, wanting to hear what the great scholar would say.
The great scholar paused for a moment, then smiled and said: "It is unprecedented and unprecedented."
All the great scholars laughed and said in unison: "Great kindness!"
Fang Yi, who was so fashionable and drunk in the Huxin Pavilion, naturally had no idea that his poem had caused such a repercussions in the Confucian Saint Palace. It had received unanimous praise from all the great scholars of the day, and even the most exaggerated evaluations. But even if it was Fang Yi found out and was not surprised.
This song "Water Melody Song Tou" is one of Mr. Dongpo's masterpieces. That is Su Dongpo. Su Dongpo, who is known as a genius through the ages, is Su Xian and Po Xian. His poem has been highly praised by literati of all ages and has been recognized as a contemporary poet. It is not surprising that he was highly praised by the great scholars.
The great scholars discussed it for a long time, and then reluctantly gave up.
At this time, the great scholar Zhao Zhe asked: "Sir, who is this boy? How come I have never seen him before? Isn't he a disciple of my academy? How can he write such a poem?"
Many great scholars shook their heads, indicating that they did not know Fang Yi.
"I don't know either." Mr. Da shook his head, looked at Xu Shoucheng and said, "Shoucheng, this word is for Qing Yi."
Xu Shoucheng, the great scholar, was slightly startled and asked in confusion: "Qingyi? Who wrote it to Qingyi?"
"Is it the son-in-law that Qing Yi married?" A scholar came back to his senses and asked.
"Huh?" Xu Shoucheng frowned, "Qing Yi is currently in retreat at Brahma Emperor Huang Na and is not in the palace. There is no way to verify it now."
"It's not difficult. The person who wrote the letter is Zhang Qingchen, a sixth-grade bachelor. He is not there. Just turn around and ask Zhang Qingchen to return to the Confucian Saint Palace to see you." A great scholar said.
"Yes." Everyone suddenly realized that the person who was helping the boy write the lyrics must know the boy's identity. Ask him to come back and find out.
"When I talk about Zhang Qingchen, I get angry!!" At this time, a great scholar said with jealousy: "How could he, Zhang Qingchen, be so virtuous and capable that he can write this poem??"
"Yes, I have been immersed in calligraphy for decades, and my handwriting is no better than that of Zhang Qingchen?"
"That Zhang Qingchen's handwriting is really rubbish. Whose disciple is he? How did he teach him? Can such rubbish handwriting be worthy of this poem??"
At this time, all the great scholars were going crazy with jealousy. He was a bachelor, how could he write such good words?
How could his rubbish words be worthy of such good words! !
"Zhang Qingchen is my disciple." At this time, Zhang Qingchen's master, a great scholar, spoke weakly.
Everyone's eyes were instantly focused on him, and they couldn't hide the look in their eyes that wanted to kill someone.
The great scholar felt a chill running down his spine, and anger suddenly came from his heart, and evil arose from his courage: "Yes! How can he, Zhang Qingchen, be so virtuous and capable?! Is he worthy of writing such good words?! I thought he was the one who worshiped me in the first place! When he was my disciple, I taught him every day to make him write well, but he just didn't listen. Now take a look and see if what he writes can be called calligraphy??"
"Let's see how I deal with him when he comes back!!" After the great scholar said this, he secretly said in his heart: "Qingchen, you must forgive me as a teacher. Being a teacher is also a lot of pressure."
Only then did many great scholars give up.
"Everyone." At this time, Mr. Da also stopped the Confucians from talking.
"Please accept the talent!" Mr. Da waved his hand at this moment, and terrifying dragons of talent soared into the sky instantly from the Confucian Sage Palace. The talent came from the statues of the Four Saints.
"The opportunity of eternal poetry does not come every time. This time, the eternal poetry has awakened the souls of the Four Saints. The eternal poetry has also created talents. This time, the talents are distributed to you. May Confucianism and Taoism prosper!" After Mr. Da finished speaking, that The giant dragon of talent instantly turned into the rain of talent and descended on all the great scholars.
All the great scholars present shouted in unison: "Thank you to the Four Sages, thank you to Mr. Da, and may Confucianism and Taoism prosper!"
"Thank you to that boy who can write poems that will last forever." Mr. Da smiled slightly: "If you can write such poems, Confucianism and Taoism will be popular. Da Li may have its first Confucian sage!"
...
At the same time, the Wang family in Taiyuan, Huxin Pavilion.
Fang Yi was standing in the pavilion at this time, standing tall and straight like a evergreen tree, motionless.
At this time, prompts are continuously issued on the panel.
[Congratulations on successfully winning the challenge with Tang Buku, gaining 20 luck points, and obtaining the effect of "Appearing Saint in front of others". 】
[If you write an eternal poem, it will surely be passed down through the ages in the future. You will be rewarded with an additional 20 luck points. 】
[Star of Talent: You compose an eternal poem, trigger the stars of Wenqu, and get an additional fragment of "Wenqu Star". 】
[Glory of the Moon: The Mid-Autumn Moon chanting poem you wrote can be the first poem in ancient and modern times. You gain the intimacy of the bright moon, understand the Taoist "Moonlight" skill, and when you major in the Taoist Taiyin Kung Fu, you can increase your speed tenfold. When releasing skills, there is a tenfold amplification effect. 】
The information on the panel was changing rapidly. Fang Yi read it one by one and then looked up.
Everyone around was immersed in the eternal poem just now and couldn't extricate themselves for a long time.
Fang Yi looked at Tang Buku: "Are we still competing?"
Tang Buku didn't speak. He was shaking violently and seemed to be enduring great pain.
"boom!"
Not long after, a low explosion sound suddenly came from Tang Buku's body.
"Ah!" Tang Buku let out a terrible scream and immediately passed out.
For a moment, the others were at a loss and quickly called for the servants to carry Tang Buku away.
Everyone was silent, no longer daring to say a word to ridicule Fang Yi.
One poem or one word had completely shocked them, and no one dared to say another word.
"Everyone, are there any who are dissatisfied??" Fang Yi glanced at everyone in a circle at this time. He was full of alcohol and laughed loudly: "If anyone is dissatisfied, you can come out and fight!"
No one stood up, no one spoke, everyone was silent.
"Junior, thank you, Mr. Mo Bao." Fang Yi turned around to thank Zhang Qingchen, then turned to leave.
But before leaving, Fang Yi suddenly asked: "Chuntao, what did Qingyi say when she came back when she attended the gathering of the eight surnamed children?"
"Back to my uncle, the young lady said: Children of the eighth surname have many wine bags and rice bags. It's okay not to participate in such a boring gathering." Chuntao understood instantly and replied.
"Hahahaha." Fang Yi laughed loudly and said, "Yes, Qing Yi is absolutely right. Children of the eighth surname have many wine bags and rice bags. It's okay not to participate in such a boring gathering!"
Hearing this, Zhang Qingchen was slightly startled, but then smiled and looked at Fang Yi's leaving back, thoughtfully.
All the children with the eighth surname present turned the color of pig liver. This was a naked group mockery. They were mocking the incompetence of the children with the eighth surname. But what could they do? What could they dare to do? Just bear with it.
After all, they could not write even a single sentence of Fang Yi's poems in their entire lives. At this time, no one dared to speak, and no one dared to speak. They could only watch Fang Yi leave with envy and hatred.
