Becoming a Saint by Leisure Reading - Chapter 109
[Chapter 109 Ji Lai!]
On the high jade platform, Bai Qingqing opened her mouth— ” The
first condition for this literary competition is to compose four poems and essays on the spot, and the four poems are related to each other, and they are all related to time.”
The seat was in an uproar.
The historian Confucian who spoke before showed an angry face: “The intentions are sinister! This Spring and Autumn Holy Page is the most sensitive to artistic conceptions such as time, and can even be used to identify fallacies in history. Using time as the theme, the requirements for poetry, music and prose are more stringent! Not to mention making four poems in a row on the spot, and they are related to each other. Even if Li Qinglian is resurrected, I am afraid of difficulties!”
Another great scholar sitting next to him also nodded repeatedly: “The poems of time are more related to persuasion, I don’t know if there will be a breakthrough ?”
Another great scholar twirled his beard: “It’s time for a beauty to be old and twilight, it’s time for nostalgia, it’s also time for leaves to flutter and flowers to fall, and I don’t stick to persuasion. If there is a single song, there may still be a chance. I think this condition The most difficult thing is four songs in a row, the prime minister’s couplet.”
As soon as these words came out, everyone nodded.
At this time, Bai Qingqing opened her mouth again: “The second condition——”
“The four poems, whether they are poems, music or fu, must have the same rhythm.”
…
“Too much deception!”
Kong Tianfang slapped the table again, his face full of anger .
“The previous requirements are so outrageous, and the rules must be unified. The contestants are all Confucian scholars, not great Confucian scholars! Isn’t this bullying people?”
Tian Haiyi squinted his eyes, and shouldn’t be watching the phantom with the head of the Confucius Institute. I knew I was going to the scene.
“Head of the hospital, it’s useless to get angry! You see, Wen Xiang hasn’t said a word yet.”
“He’s putting on knitting wool!” Kong Tianfang was still angry.
…
“Mr. Nan, what is the point of unifying the rhythm?” Someone in the
Beifeng Building asked again.
Nanyuan sighed, and said: “Metrics are originally for poetry, but in this case, it is for poetry and music.”
“The so-called unified meter means that if the first poem is a five-character verse, then the remaining three capitals It must be a five-character regulated poem. If the first poem is seven-character, the rest must also be seven-character.”
“It’s the same if you write lyrics. The first poem uses a word card, and the remaining three poems must also be seven-character.” The same lyrics must be used!”
“Anyone who often writes poems will know that for the same theme, you may be able to write multiple poems with different rhythms or lyrics, but if you use the same rhythm or lyrics, you can write four poems at the same time. It can be said to be even more difficult!”
“Then are we going to lose this competition?”
Nan Yuanxi shook his head suddenly: “No!”
He said, looking at Xu Ying.
“Because, Wan Anbo is on the stage!”
…
At this time on the high jade platform, Bai Qingqing smiled charmingly: “Four, the topic is finished, and it’s up to you next. But the little girl reminds me, at most there are only An hour.”
The suave young man Wang Bugui gave a free and easy smile, and cupped his hands towards Bai Qingqing: “It’s too much trouble for Miss Bai to come up with such a title. Xiao Ke is impatient, so I’ll write a song first, I don’t know if it will take up the trouble.” Holy page?”
Bai Qingqing nodded and said, “It’s okay, even if only one song is approved by the holy page, even if you lose the literary competition, it’s a good thing. The little girl of the holy page is still there, so I won’t delay the writing of other talented people.”
“In this way, I can rest assured Already.” Wang Bugui nodded, then cupped his hands at Chen Luo and the other three, “Let me
go ahead!” After speaking, Wang Bugui picked up the writing brush that was prepared on the high platform, and filled the ink with awe-inspiring righteousness. At the same time, the magic circle projected the poems written by Wang Bugui all over Zhongjing.
“Eastern wind blows the green pond, and a ray of spring brings frost on the temples.”
“While the peaches and plums are not visible in the thousands of blossoms, why wear red makeup on the broken hairpins
.”
“Mo Xiaoshuai Weng Chang sighed with emotion, how desolate the flowers have been in ancient times.” After
writing a poem, Wang Bugui put down his brush.
…
“This… Wang Bugui wrote about a woman living in a foreign country, who was old and decrepit, and recalled her hometown.” A great Confucian commented, “The idea is good, and the description is good, especially the sentence ‘Why do you need to describe the broken hairpin? “Hongzhuang’, I just read it through, and the literary talent is a bit lacking!”
“Nowadays that poetry is withered, it is rare to have such a quick-witted poet, I don’t know if the Spring and Autumn Holy Pages approve it or not!”
…
There were comments from the audience When writing this poem, the holy page of Spring and Autumn flickered for a while, and the verses written just now disappeared word by word, and finally there was no trace of ink on the holy page.
“This…” Wang Bugui was stunned for a moment, and then he gave a wry smile, “My poems are not enough, and I can’t get the approval of the holy page, that’s all, let’s practice for a few more years.” After finishing speaking, Wang Bugui turned around and faced Wen Xiang and Ye Heng made a deep obeisance, “Wen Xiang, Your Majesty, if you don’t have high expectations, you can’t write a poem today, so I hereby apologize.”
Ye Heng waved his hand: “You are still young, don’t think too much, just study hard and practice hard. It will become a great tool.”
Wen Xiang also nodded: “Be brave when you know your shame, go!”
Wang Bugui bowed to Chen Luo and the three of them again: “I’m defeated, and the next step is up to you.”
After finishing speaking , Wang Bugui’s figure flickered, and flashed out of the high platform,
“I’m coming!” Seeing Wang Bugui failing and leaving, Fang Xiujie, who seemed to be unable to wake up, suddenly opened his eyes, stepped forward, picked up the brush, and began to write.
“The wind and snow are boundless, and the roads in the rivers and lakes are poor.” “Human feelings
change at any time, and ambitions end in this life .
” When he came out, the eyes of the great Confucians in the audience lit up.
“This young man from the Fang family, well-clothed and well-fed, actually wrote such vicissitudes of life poems. On a snowy night, when he was a stranger, his feelings were indifferent, and his ambitions were unfulfilled. His white hair was thick, and even his shadow was a little loose with the passage of time. People are leaning on the balcony, watching the winter snow flying all over their eyes, how desolate…” A great Confucianist nodded.
“No and no!” Another great Confucian gave a different opinion, “This poem looks good at first glance, but if you taste it carefully, you will always feel a sense of itching! After all, it is a family member who is strong in writing new words. Say sorrow!”
Sure enough, the holy page of Spring and Autumn flashed with light again, and then the poem Fang Xiujie just wrote disappeared word by word!
Fang Xiujie was stunned for a moment, then a stern look flashed in his eyes, but he suppressed it again. He turned around, bowed in the direction of Wen Xiang and Ye Heng, and walked directly off the jade platform!
…
“This, this is too difficult!” In the Shengwen Square, the Zheliu students discussed one after another, “There is no way for such poems to leave traces on the holy page, and it needs four consecutive poems!”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, Senior Sister Tian is still here.”
“Look, Senior Sister Tian moved.”
… On
the high jade platform, Tian Xiangwan walked to the holy page, pondered for a moment, shook his head, turned around, and said yes Written by Wen Xiang and Ye Heng Shili.
“Your Majesty, Minister Wen, the student can only write one poem, and I will confess my crime first.” After finishing
speaking, Tian Xiangwan picked up a pen and wrote—
“A piece of spring sorrow waiting for wine. .Huaniangdu and Yanniang Bridge, the wind is fluttering, and the rain is rustling.”
“When will I go home to wash the robes? The silver word is Sheng tune, and the heart word is incense. The streamer is easy to throw people away, the cherry is red, and the green is green. Plantain.”
After finishing the song “One Cut Plum”, Tian Xiangwan threw the brush in his hand and walked down the jade platform.
Everyone in the audience stared at the holy page of Spring and Autumn, and the holy page of Spring and Autumn suddenly burst into light, but at this moment, the words on it did not disappear, but each one was brightly lit up, and a virtual image of a small boat sailing in the wind and rain appeared on it. film.
“Poems become visions, and poems handed down from generation to generation come true!”
Bai Qingqing smiled faintly, and said to Wenxiang: “Congratulations to Wenxiang, the human race has another piece of poetry handed down from generation to generation. This article is not dared to be possessed by the monster race, so return it to Daxuan .” After finishing
speaking , Bai Qingqing pointed to the holy page that said “Yi Jian Mei”, and the holy page immediately rolled up and flew towards Wen Xiang.
Wen Xiang stretched out his hand, grabbed the flying scroll, and nodded.
Bai Qingqing waved again, and another blank Spring and Autumn Holy Page flew to the high jade platform.
At this moment, everyone’s eyes were on Chen Luo.
Bai Qingqing spoke softly and said, “Wan Anbo, you are the only one left now. The poems handed down from generation to generation must be recited or written in ink with awe-inspiring righteousness. If you are not a Confucian scholar, you might as well abstain.”
Chen Luo Shrugged; “Not now, it will be soon!”
Just as Bai Qingqing was puzzled, Chen Luo suddenly shouted—
“Xiao Ji!
” : Liuguang is easy to throw people away, the cherry is red, and the plantain is green.
Wang Bugui and Fang Xiujie’s poems were written by me with the plot, so you don’t need to find out the source…
Fourth watch, heh heh.
Shame on the hat of the literati!
(end of this chapter)
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