Feng Xinyan said slowly.

But Mu Qingxue's eyes widened with joy: "Wow, is it so powerful? Wouldn't it be that if I open my mouth and recite a few poems, I can exert the power of the mountains and the sea?"

Feng Xinyan shook her head: "How can it be so easy?"

"Psalms in general only make the buds sway. ”

"A good psalm can turn poetry into a sword, and hymns can kill people. ”

"Only the poems of the immortals can seduce the heavens and the earth and make the mountains and rivers shake. ”

"What about the saint?" Mu Qingxue asked curiously.

Feng Xinyan smiled and shook her head: "I don't know either." Because it hasn't been there yet. ”

"Then Holy Son, how many poems can you compose quickly? The Holy Son is so good at writing, he will definitely be able to seduce heaven and earth and make mountains and rivers riot. Mu Qingxue pulled Chu Yun excitedly and clamored for him to compose a poem.

Feng Xinyan was taken aback, but there was a little more brilliance in the beautiful eyes that looked at Chu Yun: "Isn't Chu Yun's holy son still able to compose poems?"

The poems are elegant and obscure, and few people know.

Even those people in the Wengong are mostly reciting the poems of the ancients, and they are rarely able to make them themselves, even if they make up a few sentences, they are extremely simple, and they are not enough to seduce the power of heaven and earth.

After all, the fairy world is still martial, and there is no very strong literary atmosphere, so it is natural to give birth to some popular poems.

"Don't listen to Qingxue's nonsense. I can play a few words of piano at most, poetry and songs, how can I?" Chu Yun smiled awkwardly, and then glared at Mu Qingxue, telling this girl not to talk nonsense.

Chu Yun's words are true, how could a person who has only been in college for one year compose poems and lyrics? At most, he can memorize a few poems.

But it was the stuff of the ancient Chinese people, unless he had to, Chu Yun still didn't want to use other people's things to sell his reputation. Chu Yun was not so vain.

While he was talking, it was already ten o'clock in the evening.

On the side of the pavilion in the center of the lake, there was a sudden commotion.

Those friends or lovers who came together also began to show their talents, chant poems and lyrics, and show their literary talents.

But those earthy poems, Chu Yun listened to them really spicy ears.

What "you are so beautiful", what "you are the star in the sky".

It's just that the bull's head is not the horse's mouth, and it doesn't even have the most basic beauty, let alone any neat battle and smooth rhyme.

What is this called poetry?

But even so, there are still many people cheering.

Chu Yun suddenly smiled bitterly in his heart.

If my Chinese poet immortal poet saint is like this, then it must not be an invincible existence?

After half an hour, Chu Yunshi heard a lot, but the best thing was to make the buds of the Wen Holy Flower swing, and there was not even a poem that attracted the power of the moonlight.

At this time, I don't know who recognized the Holy Son of Wengong.

In the pavilion in the center of the lake, there was a sudden uproar.

"I'll go, isn't this the Holy Son of Wengong?"

"Sure enough, it's a talent. ”

"The fairy next to me is also very beautiful. ”

"I guess it's the lover of the Holy Son of Bunmiya, right?"

Some people envy it, some people admire it.

Suddenly, the eyes of almost all the people in the Lake Pavilion looked at the handsome and extraordinary young man in front of them.

Rong Zi'an was born in Xiandu, grew up in Xiandu, and often came to this lake pavilion, so it is not surprising that Rong Zi'an was recognized.

"Holy Son, the moonlight is quiet and beautiful, and the beauty is pretty. ”

"With such a beautiful day, why not write a poem and let us open our eyes?"

"Do you think so?"

Someone in the crowd proposed, and in an instant, the people around him suddenly started to commotion.

In this pavilion in the middle of the lake, there were cheers for Rong Zi'an to compose poems.

Lu Xuexin also smiled lightly, looking at Rong Zi'an beside her, although she didn't say anything, the expectation in her eyebrows was very distinct.

"Xue Xin, do you want to hear me compose poems too?" Rong Zi'an ignored the coaxing of the crowd, but turned his head to look at the woman on the side and asked in a low voice.

Lu Xuexin nodded: "I'm just a little curious, I don't know what kind of scene it will be like for poetry to attract the power of heaven and earth." If Zi'an Shengzi is embarrassed, he doesn't have to care. ”

Rong Zian shook his head and smiled: "Xue Xin wants to hear it, how can I be embarrassed?"

In the midst of the proud laughter, Rong Zi'an put his hands behind his back, and then looked around at everyone, and his voice immediately resounded through this world: "Thanks to everyone's love, I, Rong Zi'an, will compose a poem on the spot tonight." If you don't do well, I hope you don't laugh. ”

"Haha~"

"The Holy Son is polite?"

"In this immortal capital city, who doesn't know that the Holy Son of Wengong is only eight buckets high. ”

"If we are as ignorant as the Son, then we are all illiterate. ”

"Okay, Cheng Dashao, say a few words, and everyone will be quiet. Don't disturb the Son's chanting. ”

As Rong Zi'an prepared to compose a poem, the originally noisy Huxin Pavilion quieted down in an instant.

Everyone stood or worked, or listened attentively, or was full of admiration, waiting for Rong Zi'an's poems on both sides of such respectfully.

At this time, Rong Zi'an did not speak, but stood by the lake with his hands behind his back, looking up at the moon for a while, and looking back at the beauty for a while.

Looks like I'm sorting out my thoughts.

Everyone didn't dare to speak, for fear that they would disturb Rong Zi'an's train of thought.

On the other side, Chu Yun followed Feng Xinyan and obviously noticed the movement ahead.

"It seems that the Holy Son of Wengong is composing poetry?"

Feng Xinyan put down the teacup, and her beautiful eyes also turned to look at the handsome young man who was heading to the lakeside.

"The poems of the Holy Son of Wengong must be extraordinary. ”

"Maybe, it will attract the power of Yuehua and make Wen Shenghua bloom?" Feng Xinyan said slowly as she watched.

Chu Yun only said a few perfunctory words, and glanced at the proud young man in the crowd, but he didn't pay attention to it, lowered his head and continued to drink tea.

Poetry is natural, and when emotions arrive, they can naturally be exported.

Like Rong Zi'an's deliberate hard meditation, even if he can really make a poem in the end, I am afraid it will not be much better.

While Chu Yun smiled lightly, Mu Qingxue's beautiful eyes on the side were also looking carefully.

She wanted to know, what other poems could Rong Zi'an make, could it be better than the literary brilliance of their Qin Palace Holy Son?

At this moment, Rong Zi'an, who had been silent, immediately glanced at the corners of his mouth, and a smile filled the air.

Then, the red lips opened lightly, and the first sentence of the poem was blurted out.

"You are messy and unreasonable, how many years of laughter and dreams have you had?"

When this first sentence fell, the entire Lake Center Pavilion was immediately silent.

Not long after, the second sentence of the poem also sounded immediately: "The wind is in the frost and the heart is sick, and the clear moon is sighing low." ”

At this time, many people are not calm.

There were even literati frowning and whispering.

"Wind and frost?"

"Autumn Moon Fuyun?"

"This poem is alive, alive!"

"Based on these two sentences alone, I am ashamed of myself and willing to bow down!"

In the crowd, a tall and thin young man was full of shock, shaking his head and sighing.

The atmosphere around us has become a little more noisy again.

But the amazement of the crowd did not last long, but Rong Zi'an's poem continued to remember.

"I often think of clinging to your delicate jade, and leaning on the lonely dust. ”

Rong Zi'an turned around suddenly, but a pair of clear eyes immediately fell on the woman beside him. The magnetic and affectionate words made Lu Xuexin's pretty face suddenly frightened, her delicate body trembled slightly, her cheeks were red, and she almost didn't dare to look directly into Rong Zi'an's eyes.

And at this time, in the lake water, countless Wen Shenghua were already swinging wildly, and the faint moonlight lingered and swept away, until the end, almost rich as substance.

The pale yellow moonlight, like the sword qi condensed by the power of heaven and earth, galloped across the entire lake, and in an instant, the entire Wensheng Lake was filled with that sword qi reverberating vertically and horizontally.

"It's... This... It's poetry into a sword!"

"The Holy Son of Wengong is worthy of being the descendant of the Prime Minister, and such a literary style has really attracted the power of Yuehua. ”

The people around him were boiling and noisy, looking at the strange scene above the lake, and their eyebrows were full of tremors.

At this time, Rong Zi'an's last sentence had already fallen: "Now the frost stains the autumn sideburns, and the tears are speechless." ”

Whoosh~whoosh~

With the end of this poem, on the Wensheng Lake, the several sword lights also rose to the sky, and then flew straight down. The brilliant sword qi slashed into the mirror surface of the lake, only to hear an uproar, splashing the sky like rain!

Everyone was quiet at this time.

After a long time, countless voices of admiration and respect rang out.

"Awesome, awesome!"

"Poetry becomes a sword, and the sage trembles. ”

"The Holy Son of Wengong is so literary at a young age. ”

"In time, I will be able to make this full pool of Wensheng flowers bloom and become a generation of literary saints and poets of my Nine Palaces Immortal Kingdom. ”

Everywhere there were voices of admiration, and everywhere there were words of admiration.

At this time, Rong Zi'an stood proudly and attracted the attention of everyone. bathed in the words of flattery and admiration of the people, just like the stars holding the moon.

And Lu Xuexin was also full of tremors, and the beautiful eyes of the young man in front of her were shining.

I only felt that Rong Zi'an at this time was glowing faintly under this dark night.

23

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