The uncle stood up straight and looked at the calligraphy, and after bowing deeply, he sighed: "Studying correct calligraphy has entered the avenue, and students can't even catch it."
Yuan Xuezheng put the pen on the pen holder, rubbed the wrist of his right hand with his left hand, then shook his head and sighed: "The magic of Dongpo will never be as good as in life. Mr. Yuan, please sit down."
While looking at Yuan Xuezheng's calligraphy, his uncle pointed at the fonts and said: "The fonts of Xuezheng and Dongpo laymen have their own styles, and they already have everyone's style."
Yuan Xuezheng looked at his calligraphy, then looked up at the words "Houdude Zhewu" on the plaque, frowned and said: "Yuanfu's words are indeed inappropriate, please take them back."
Zhao Ping couldn't help but said: "Dongpo layman is elegant and free, unconstrained, and eclectic. However, when Xue Zheng is free and easy, he is also dignified and generous, and he has learned the golden mean."
The uncle was so anxious that he immediately covered Zhao Ping's mouth and saluted Yuan Xuezheng at the same time: "You kid with a yellow mouth is talking nonsense. Please forgive me."
Yuan Xuezheng seemed to have just discovered Zhao Ping at this moment, frowned and asked: "Who is Shuzi?"
The uncle bowed again and said: "Student Zhao Ping, my foolish nephew, is extremely stubborn. I hope he can learn from others and be honest."
Yuan Xuezheng looked at Zhao Ping carefully and asked, "Did you, a fool like you, write those crooked poems outside?"
Zhao Ping had no choice but to respond with a full body salute: "You are a clumsy child. Please forgive me, Master."
Yuan Xuezheng stretched out his hand and shouted: "Bring it here."
Zhao Ping was confused and looked up at his uncle: "What did you bring?"
The uncle breathed a sigh of relief, and then also scolded: "The hand that wrote it is the same hand that stretched out."
Zhao Ping had no choice but to stretch out his right hand, and suddenly he felt a "pop" sound on his palm, like coals burning in the palm of his hand. His eyes were full of tears, but Zhao Ping held it in tenaciously and did not fall or have any tears. Hum.
The uncle nodded slightly, then saluted Yuan Xuezheng and said: "Children are clumsy, I hope Xuezheng bothers."
Yuan Xuezheng held a ruler in one hand and stroked his beard with the other. He nodded and said, "Shuzi is a little clever, but unfortunately he has not used it in the right way and must be strictly disciplined." His uncle thanked him profusely again.
Under the leadership of a Zhaiyu, Zhao Ping walked through several corridors and came to the teaching classroom next to Professor Wang Hai's public room. There were about forty desks in the classroom, which was about the same size as a primary school classroom, but the lighting was much worse. .
I saw that there were already more than thirty people here, all of them my competitors!
However, before he entered the threshold, a strange voice came to Zhao Ping's ears: "Sick Yangzi, was expelled from Lijiacun Village School. What a sweet dream, he actually wants to study here."
Zhao Ping looked towards the direction of the sound, and saw that there was already one of them who looked somewhat similar to Wang Ziyi. He was wearing a turban and a t-shirt. He was about thirteen years old. He was the workshop of the Zhao family where he saw him yesterday. The boy who spat "Crooked Poetry".
Seeing Zhao Ping sizing him up, he turned his nostrils to the sky with a look of contempt on his face, and just put away a folding fan.
The weather is now in early spring, so this person uses a folding fan, not caring about the cold spring for the sake of elegance.
Zhao Ping couldn't help but be surprised. Yesterday this person spat on his poems, but today he actually attacked his court personally. He couldn't help but frown, who is this person? It seems that he has a huge hatred against himself and targets himself at every turn.
Zhao Ping wanted to fight back, but he remembered that this was the county school and it was his first time here, so he bowed to all the candidates and then returned to his seat.
When all the candidates saw him being so polite to his competitors, they reciprocated the courtesy and their favorable impression of him greatly increased.
Xuelu is a thin man in his forties, surnamed Yu.
Zhao Ping couldn't help but frown when he saw this person. He was also present at Zhao's workshop yesterday, but although he didn't speak, he shook his head and left in the end, obviously not agreeing with this stinky behavior.
He coughed, walked up to the front of the podium, glanced below, and said in a deep voice: "Everyone has come to study. I am very pleased with this academic record. It can be seen that the great Song Dynasty literature is here to carry the Tao and benefit the people. However, the school is limited, and only Can be admitted on a selective basis. Since Changyuan is my hometown, how can I not be grateful for the birth and education of you. Now this academic record is titled Changyuan, and any poem can be used. The time limit is one stick of incense. Candidates, please answer the questions."
At this time, the Zhai Chief and Zhai Yu had already laid out pens, ink, paper and inkstones, and the candidates, including Zhao Ping, were already sharpening their ink while meditating on answering the questions.
The thirteen-year-old boy who was targeting Zhao Ping gave Zhao Ping a contemptuous look while sharpening his ink, and soon began to write.
All the candidates couldn't help but be surprised. It seemed that this candidate was indeed a little nervous. Some of them turned pale and even started to tremble.
Zhao Ping, on the other hand, was focused on sharpening his ink. He didn't even notice his provocation and was completely in his own world.
Contrary to that candidate, Zhao Ping was the last one to hand in his paper.
Yu Xuelu put away the papers and then went to Professor Wang's office next door.
In Professor Wang's apartment, eight masters were reading papers.
If a professor is equivalent to a principal, then Xuezheng plays the role of a teaching director.
These masters shook their heads while reading the papers. Some even threw the papers directly into the trash can and shouted angrily: "It really doesn't make sense."
At this time, a master was reading the papers, shaking his head and saying:
"It is a law of heaven that an evil dragon is in the sea, and a loving mother cannot be filial and makes her heart anxious. An Neng can seek the best of both worlds, and her children and grandchildren will fill the hall with longevity peaches."
Then he slapped the table and shouted, "This poem is a good poem. It is written in the Cier River, the river in my hometown. It is even more rare to have a filial piety, a good poem, a good poem."
Then he presented the paper to Professor Wang Hai.
Wearing a green robe and an official hat, Wang Hai is in his forties, with fair skin, a face as old as the moon, and a slightly rich figure.
Wang Hai passed the Fajie test three times in a row, but every time he was a little bit unlucky in the provincial test, the court followed the usual practice and gave him a professor who came to Changyuan County to become a professor with a Jinshi background.
However, although Wang Hai was unlucky in the imperial examination, the county school was still well run and ranked first in Changzhou. The school was also renovated and received rave reviews from people in Changyuan County.
At this time, he was meditating with his eyes closed. When he heard this, he suddenly opened his eyes, his eyes gleamed, and told the secretary next to him: "Send the paper up."
The secretary nodded and respectfully presented the paper.
Wang Hai nodded while reciting a poem, and said: "Prince He, only thirteen years old, has both kindness and filial piety, which is rare. Let's admit him as the first."
"Wait a minute. There is another poem here, please recite it." A gray-haired master named Yan Yan who was in his early fifties immediately took the paper in his hand and recited it word by word:
"On the top of the mountain lost in fog, there is an ancient temple in Songzang, and green waves lie on the small bridge. On both sides of the bank are green bamboos, and a small boat scatters Qiong Yao ten miles away. Egrets disappear from the sky. The long embankment spits frost and snow, and the sound shakes the sky. The stream flows on the silver beach, and shrimps and crabs move. Horizontally, around the shallow reef.
The dangerous building hangs on the cliff. Look at the city gates with all their arches, and the green tiles setting off the waves. The waterwheel turns slowly, the sound of books is heard in the school, and the streets are far away. The painted walls are made of high blue bricks. There are yellow orchids inside the wall, and fragrant fragrance floats outside the wall. On the first day of the new year, dragons and lions dance on stilts. "
After he finished reading, he put the paper on the table, looked around and said word by word: "There is a painting in the word, a scene in the painting, a sound in the scene, a color in the sound, a fragrance in the color, and a fragrance in the fragrance." Freehand brushwork, the hidden environment in mind. Fog, pines, mountains, temples, bridges, water, boats, bamboos, embankments, beaches, streams, shrimps, crabs, reefs, egrets, sky, turrets, city gates, green tiles, waterwheels , schools, streets, green walls, yellow orchids, New Year, dragon and lion dances, etc. are cleverly integrated together, without any violation of the sense of harmony. In my opinion, he ranks first. What is rare and valuable is that this person is younger. , His actual age is only eleven years old, but his real age is only ten years old. Of course, this is just my opinion. If what I said is wrong, please correct me."
After saying that, he cupped his hands slightly around, then sat down on the round stool, just looking at Yuan Xuezheng.
Yuan Xuezheng nodded and said nothing.
Wang Hai frowned, waved his hand with his right hand, and the secretary picked up the paper and presented it.
After Wang Hai repeatedly recited the poem "Wang Haichao, Changyuan", he gently placed it on the table and said in a deep voice: "This poem is a poem about scenery and has no reference to filial piety. Besides, in the Song Dynasty, filial piety was used to govern. Is it okay if the country is ranked first in admission? It’s not okay.”
Yuan Xuezheng nodded and said: "These two poems do have their own merits. In this case, I would like to suggest that everyone present raise their hands. I agree with "Wang Haichao. Changyuan". If you agree with me, please raise your hands."
After speaking, Yuan Xuezheng took the lead in raising his hand.
Professor Wang Hai called on those who agreed with the poem "Crying River" to raise their hands.
Zhao Ping saw that after Prince He recited the poem to the examinees present, he received rave reviews from others besides Zhao Ping. The candidates surrounded Prince He to congratulate him and shouted for a treat.
Because according to convention, the first place is to enter the Tianjia class.
The second place can only enter Class A.
After Wang Zihe came to the county school from the village school, he took many exams but failed to enter the Tianjia class.
In order to improve the quality of students, Changyuan County School has a rule that makes people jump off the cliff. After Class A is eliminated, it can only start over from scratch and cannot be downgraded to Class A.
Admission to Class A requires a test.
The Dijia class can be downgraded to the Xuanzi class.
The original quality of Changyuan County School's students has always been at the bottom of the entire Changzhou. It was Wang Haili's drastic approach that forced him to raise the ranking of Changyuan County School to the upper reaches of the entire Changzhou.
Wang Zihe hurriedly declined and said: "The notice has not been posted yet, how can we take it seriously?"
A twelve-year-old boy stepped forward and said, "Senior Brother Wang, there is no need to be modest. Winning the first place is what everyone expects."
All the candidates also cheered and said: "Since I am the first, of course I have to treat you."
Wang Zihe looked at Zhao Ping, who was sitting quietly in a corner alone, and sighed: "Someone doesn't want to get the first place. Look, someone is enjoying himself. It seems that he has already calculated in his heart and has secured the first place."
Seeing everyone's curious eyes, as well as the prince's and sneering eyes, Zhao Ping thought to himself: "You have been sarcastic and sarcastic about me, why should I be so hot-faced and cold-blooded?"
Thinking of this, Zhao Ping picked up the boiling water on his desk, took a sip, and then politely saluted all the candidates: "I wish all candidates good results."
Then no more words.
At this time, Xuelu came out and said to all the candidates: "The results will be announced tomorrow. Candidates please look at the results tomorrow."
Except for Zhao Ping, everyone else gathered around Prince He and went out, expecting that Prince He was in for a treat.
When he returned to his uncle's courtyard, his books were placed casually on the table. The tea in the tea bowl seemed to have dried up. He also forgot to ask anyone to add it. People kept walking around the study.
Seeing Zhao Ping come in, he suddenly became energetic and immediately stepped forward and asked, "What was the result?"
Zhao Ping read to his uncle his own work "Wang Haichao Changyuan" and Wang Zihe's work "Crying Children River".
After uncle Li Yueqiu recited it repeatedly, he said in a deep voice: "Your words are better in artistic conception, and the prince and your poems are better in filial piety. Both have their own strengths. The way of poetry is that the benevolent sees benevolence and the wise see wisdom. Although I like you more." But it doesn’t mean that others also like your words. Besides, the prince and Professor Wang both have the surname Wang."
At this point, uncle Li Yueqiu stepped forward and patted Zhao Ping on the shoulder and said: "Actually, it doesn't matter. Even if he can't win the first place, Ping'er's Class A is safe."
At this point, my uncle still sighed.
At this time, my mother had just come in from outside, listened to the conversation between uncle and nephew, looked at the two of them and then asked: "How big is the difference between Tianjia Class and Dijia Class?"
The uncle pondered for a moment and said, "How big is the difference? Yueniang, to tell you the truth, the last person in Tianjia class is better than the first person in Dijia class."
