Tick tock.

The bell hands above the podium made a clear sound that reached everyone's ears.

No one spoke.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on the words on the blackboard, refusing to look away.

I don't know how long it took.

At night, a gust of autumn wind blew into the compound, rolling up a few dead leaves on the ground, and the people in the wing room couldn't help but tighten their clothes.

Qu Mingfeng sighed with emotion: "Sure enough, it's a cool autumn." ”

After sighing, he stretched out his hand and began to applaud.

Immediately afterward, everyone couldn't help but applaud, including the sixteen young people in the word gate.

In an instant, the applause was thunderous.

......

On the whale live broadcast platform, netizens also have a moment of sluggishness.

With the applause in the courtyard, many netizens also spontaneously applauded in front of the computer.

"Brother Huan is a true king!Mom asked me why I knelt on my knees and looked at the computer every day?"

"The person in the word gate was slapped in the face. Just now, one by one was still worried, and he was immediately sarcastically ridiculed by Brother Huan. ”

"But the lyrics are really good, I, a person who doesn't know poetry, are catchy to read. ”

"I'll just say, since Brother Huan can write eternal poems like "Pipa Xing", how can his attainments in lyrics and music be shallow. Sure enough, as soon as he made a move, it was Wang Bang. ”

"Don't you notice Brother Huan's words? Elegant and free, a family of its own. With this handwriting, if he goes to break through the book, it is really possible to succeed in breaking the door. ”

"Really, such a beautiful word. ”

"Loved, loved......"

“......”

Wan Xiwen's eyes were complicated, and after the applause subsided, he looked at Wang Huan and said, "What's the name of this song?"

"Untitled. ”

Originally, this poem was called the middle wall of the ugly slave Shubo Mountain Road, but this name Wang Huan was not easy to come up with, but he couldn't think of any good names in a hurry, so he could only say that it was untitled.

Wan Xiwen nodded, glanced at the words on the blackboard again, and sighed faintly in his heart: "Very good words, you won the first competition." ”

Wang Huan looked at those members of the Poet Sect who still had a trace of unwillingness in their eyes, and said loudly: "Wan Lao, in fact, the poem I wrote did not mean to ridicule the members of your Poet Sect. ”

He had to emphasize it, or he might hold a grudge against these proud young men.

Wan Xiwen laughed: "Are you underestimating me? Although I may not be able to write words like the one just now, as the master of the word gate, I still have this level of appreciation." Your poem is not just a word of sorrow that can be experienced. I really don't know where you got such a worried mind at such a young age. In fact, this word you wrote here does not conform to the artistic conception of the word, if it is placed in the ancient family and country tribulation period, its meaning will be greatly increased, and it is even possible to become a work of inheritance. Words are good words...... Alas, it's a pity, it's a pity. ”

Wan Xiwen shook his head as he spoke.

I don't know what he's sorry for.

Wang Huan also didn't know, he could only keep smiling.

It is unfathomable in the eyes of everyone, but it is actually a pretending smile.

There is no way, he just got this word from the system, but if he really asked him to explain the artistic conception contained in the word, it is estimated that he will be dumbfounded immediately.

"In the future, I will have more prestige, so I have to buy more knowledge skills from the system to enrich myself, just in case. ”

Wang Huan said secretly in his heart.

After all, poetry is dead, and improving one's own cultural level is fundamental.

Wan Xiwen continued: "Now that you have passed the first level, then the next step is the second level. It's up to me to compete with you. ”

Although Wang Huan's poem just now amazed the audience, Wan Xiwen still exudes strong self-confidence, as a professor of the Qingbei Department, he and Qu Mingfeng are known as the two great masters of the Qingbei Literature Department. His research on poetry is completely at the level of a senior expert, and he has long been well-known in Chinese literary circles, and has also published a collection of Greek poetry.

So in the face of Wang Huan's breakthrough, he was not afraid at all.

"Okay. ”

Wang Huan snorted and asked, "Then, how to determine the topic of the second level?"

Wan Xiwen said: "Tomorrow is the Mid-Autumn Festival, and today is also the Mid-Autumn Festival cultural celebration of the Huashi Society. On such a day, of course, we have to write a poem to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival to express our feelings and nostalgia for the Mid-Autumn Festival in our hearts. So the title of the second level is: Mid-Autumn Festival!"

An exclamation rang out from all sides.

This topic can be said to be expected by many people, but it is also unexpected.

Why?

Because it seems easy to write lyrics with the theme of the Mid-Autumn Festival, it is actually extremely difficult. People with a little cultural background know that from ancient times to the present, countless outstanding ancient literati do not know how many classic poems about the Mid-Autumn Festival have been left behind.

There are hundreds of words about the Mid-Autumn Festival, to say the least, and there are hundreds of them that have been circulated in the world. All kinds of things related to the Mid-Autumn Festival were basically written by ancient literati.

Nowadays, if people want to write a poem about the Mid-Autumn Festival, they will accidentally fall into clichés and laugh in vain.

"Wan Xiwen is a big move? Mid-Autumn Festival poems, it's not easy to write. ”

"The simpler it is, the harder it is. The harder it is, the easier it is. I don't know how to break the game with Brother Huan. ”

"Wan Xiwen is a great fighter in today's literary world, and I bought a book of "Xiwen Poetry Collection" a while ago, and all the poems in it are worth reading carefully. ”

"The words of the Mid-Autumn Festival? This is too simple, I can write: the moon hangs high, and my heart blossoms. The Mid-Autumn Festival has arrived, will the mooncakes be far away?"

"Upstairs, spicy eyes!"

"Sit back and wait for Wang Huan to hit the street. ”

"Believe in the poison king, the poison king will win!"

“......”

The barrage said everything, and it was a mess.

The scene of the Huashi Society.

Some people with literary skills began to frown and wonder if they could write a decent Mid-Autumn Festival poem.

Even Qu Mingfeng also showed a solemn look in his eyes: "Lao Wan is out of the way, this topic, it is estimated that he is not easy to write himself, right?"

After Wang Huan heard the title, he was stunned: "What about the Mid-Autumn Festival?"

Wan Xiwen said: "That's right. ”

Wang Huan took a deep breath: "Okay." ”

Wan Xiwen said: "I'll come first this time." ”

The one who strikes first means less time to think. With Wan Xiwen's status, he still didn't care to take advantage of this, so he took the initiative to ask to come first.

Wang Huan nodded, not forced.

Soon someone brought up the paper, ink, pen and inkstone and placed it on a table.

This time, the competition is much more formal than the competition just now.

Wan Xiwen was as angry as water, sat on the chair, picked up the brush in his right hand, and fell into thought while dipping it in ink.

There was silence all around, and no one dared to make a sound, so as not to disturb Wan Xiwen's train of thought.

About a few minutes passed.

Wan Xiwen picked up the brush and began to write the white rice paper.

A few beautiful lines of words began to appear on the paper.

"Mid-Autumn Festival"

"The fifteenth full moon is common, and people only value the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Ten thousand families reunited, singing and laughing, and raising high-rise buildings.

The water flows eastward, the hook is a few degrees, and the mirror shines on the white head.

In the prosperous years, when the night is beautiful, a drunk party rests. ”

[Note: The author's level is limited, this word is excerpted from the Internet, I didn't find who the author is, if there is any infringement, delete it immediately.] 】

Soon, the poem was fully displayed in front of everyone.

The admiration was continuous.

"Good words!

"The fifteenth full moon is common, and people only value the Mid-Autumn Festival. That's great. ”

"It is worthy of Professor Wan, who wrote such an extraordinary poem in just a few minutes. ”

"As soon as the connoisseur makes a move, he will know if there is one. ”

"Is this a contest between literati? Even if I could make a poem, I wouldn't be able to see a word like a dog gnawing on it. ”

"Brother Huan is difficult. ”

“......”

Qu Mingfeng showed an expression of admiration: "Lao Wan is deeply hidden, I admire and admire that he can write such a high-quality Mid-Autumn Festival poem in such a short period of time." ”

"That's right, the old Wanbao knife is not old. ”

"It's still amazing. ”

Lin Xingming and several other sect masters also laughed.

After Wan Xiwen put down the pen, he gently put the brush aside, stood up, and smiled at Wang Huan: "Wang Huan, it's your turn." ”