"What do you mean by this?" Meng Ruo turned to look at Ning Pingan, his eyes full of confusion.
"How many of the Seven Sons of Zhongzhou are left now? How many of them have died, with the surname 'Ci'?"
Ning Ning calmly stopped, then turned to look at Yan Ruoci and said, "Ruoci, you are different from your father. He looks at things based on deeds and not on heart. He only looks at what others have done and doesn't care too much." Others think and think, but you are different. You treat everyone with sincerity. I hope that you can maintain this innocent heart, which may be of some benefit when you face the difficulties of a great scholar in the future."
After that, Ning Ping'an really left the room and did not stay.
After Meng Ruo heard Ning Ping'an's reminder, he froze on the spot, as if he was struck by five thunders.
"Mother, what are the Seventh Son of Zhongzhou?"
. . . . . .
The next morning, when the sky was dark, Ci Song woke up. It was not because Ci Song was studious, but because the bed was too hard, there were no beddings, and even the pillows were made of wood, which made Ci Song sleep hard. It was really uncomfortable and I woke up several times in the middle of the night.
"This bed is really not suitable for ordinary people to sleep on. No, I have to buy a quilt and a pillow. If I keep sleeping on this bed, I'm afraid my waist will protrude before it grows."
Ci Song stretched. Although he woke up several times during the night, he did not feel any tiredness and was even more energetic, which surprised him.
"It's time to practice your literary skills."
Ci Song sat on the bed and began to circulate the literary energy in his body. When he first mobilized his literary energy, he found that it was much smoother and more solid than before. "
"What's going on? I obviously haven't practiced yet, so how come my literary energy has become more pure and solid?"
Ci Song was full of doubts and immediately looked inside his body. After careful inspection, he discovered that the literary energy in his body had been automatically circulating for a week, which warmed his meridians.
"What happened? Why did you start practicing on your own?"
He checked his body over and over again, and finally attributed the answer to the Wen Yun Orb, because he had no other treasures on his body, just this "plug-in" that his father gave him, which was not fully activated.
"It seems that this Wen Yun Orb is indeed very mysterious. When my cultivation level is higher, I will study it carefully."
Ci Song murmured in his heart. He still understands the reason why it is a crime to possess a jade.
"It's good. I don't have to practice by myself anymore. I can also use the remaining time to study other things."
After a simple wash, Ci Song first went to the restaurant, had a simple breakfast, and then went to the freshman school. Yesterday, Mr. Yi left a question and said that he needed someone to answer it today. Ci Song had a premonition that, It is very likely that Mr. Yi will call him, so he must be fully prepared today.
The topic given by Mr. Yi is also very interesting. It has only one word: "filial piety". This topic is based on Mr. Yi's narration of the famous saying "Parents are here, if you don't travel far away, you must travel well" in "The Analects of Confucius: Li Ren" At that time, the question that came up was: "Is it against filial piety to travel far away when my parents are here?" The question originally given by Mr. Yi was.
But later, Mr. Yi felt that such a topic was still difficult for this group of freshmen, so he directly took the core of it and used the word "filial piety" as the topic, allowing everyone to express themselves freely.
Doesn't this directly hit the muzzle of Ci Song? There are too many poems describing the word "filial piety" in ancient times, and Ci Song certainly wanted to write a classic.
That's right, it's Meng Jiao's famous poem handed down from generation to generation, a poem that Song Dynasty has recited since he was a child: "Wandering Son's Song".
When Ci Song arrived at the Xinsheng School, most of the seats were already full, and they were seen reciting or reciting the Analects of Confucius while shaking their heads. Although they had mastered these things by heart, they still recited them in a loop.
"It turns out that the endorsements of the ancients are really like this. If you shake your head, you will only feel strange, even funny, but a group of people shake their heads together, but it forms a beautiful scenery, which is very good."
Ci Song came to his seat next to the podium and immediately began to write the song "Wandering Zi Yin". He took a deep breath and was fully prepared before writing. As long as he felt uncomfortable, he would stop immediately. After all, he didn't want to suffer the heartbreaking pain caused by the backlash of literary energy again.
"Mother hands line, wandering clothing.
Departure thick seam, meaning fear of delay in return.
Whoever speaks of an inch of grass will be rewarded with three rays of spring light. "
After putting pen to paper and completing the poem, Ci Song closed his eyes, preparing to endure what was about to happen.
One second, two seconds, three seconds. . . Ten seconds passed and nothing happened.
Ci Song opened his eyes and found that he did not feel any pain. Except that the talent in his body was running a little faster, there was no other change.
"Could it be that the grandfather's voice I heard that day was not an illusion? Will this Wen Yun Orb really help me solve the problem of Wen Qi's backlash?"
Ci Song was confused in his heart, and then he looked inside his body and found that the Wen Yun Orb in his Dantian was indeed emitting golden light, and the talent in his body was also constantly running, much faster than Ci Song's own special training.
"This Wen Yun Orb is really a good treasure. It suits me perfectly. I can only say that it is something that my biological father gave me. It is really reliable."
Ci Song was overjoyed. Just when he was about to write another poem, his grandfather's voice came to his ears: "Don't write it again. If you write another poem like the one in front of the ancient tree of literary fortune, Immortal poems, even literary treasures, cannot protect your frail body."
"ah?"
"Your inheritance is too powerful. With your current level of cultivation, writing one poem a day is already your limit. Don't show off your talent too much and exercise restraint. Otherwise, you will be squeezed by the world's cultural energy. Jifen, I won’t be able to save you by then.”
The old man's voice came again, telling Ci Song's current situation.
"Senior, if I recite a poem, will I be criticized?" Ci Song asked.
"No, poetry will be remembered by heaven and earth only when the pen is written. Reciting it will do you no harm at all. If you really feel that you have nowhere to put your talents to use, then memorize poetry."
"But one thing must be remembered. If the poem you recite is copied by others, his cultivation will not be improved in any way. Instead, his literary spirit will be backfired. Remember, remember."
"Then can I become stronger by memorizing poems every day?" Just when Ci Song asked this question, a voice brought Ci Song back to reality.
"Okay, everyone, stop for a moment."
Mr. Yi walked up to the stage and shouted: "The time has come, class has officially begun."
. . . . . . .
