Expert Chenyang understands. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

He also understands the promotion.

But what the hell is this eighteenth-line writer?

A writer is a writer, is it possible that there is a hierarchy?

In line with the spirit of independent learning of knowing is knowing and not knowing how to go to the Internet, Chenyang opened the web page, and after entering the three words of the eighteen lines, soon, a series of keywords appeared on all the engines.

[Eighteenth-line writer Shi Wenjie's latest masterpiece "Great Love Mother River" was released today]

[Eighteenth-tier star Du Lingling appeared on a blind date show today, and she blew up the mate selection criteria]

[Shocking news, the eighteenth-line poet Hu Man was honorably promoted yesterday and became a fifteenth-line poet!

……

didn't find the news he was looking for, so Chenyang had to add keywords and enter eighteenth-tier writers.

[Eighteenth-line writer Li Ming returned to China yesterday with a lost expression. 】

[Du Fei, the world's smallest eighteenth-tier writer, will enter the college entrance examination tomorrow, and his wish before the exam: I hope to enter the first-line writer in the future]

[Former eighteenth-tier writer Qiao Rongxin talks about his thoughts on promotion: Eighteenth-tier writers didn't feel the power of literature when they were writers]

"The power of literature?"

Noticing the keyword, Chenyang hurriedly typed in these four words, and soon, the relevant content about the power of literature appeared on the web page.

【Encyclopedia of the Power of Literature】

[Those literary masters with a poetic and bookish atmosphere]

[Inventory of the ancient masters who are full of poetry and calligraphy in history]

Clicking on the first explanation, Chenyang read it hungrily.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Five minutes.

Chenyang's eyes became brighter and brighter, and after ten minutes, he came back to his senses, muttering in despair, "No wonder there are no literary masters in China now, it turns out that since the Xia Dynasty, history has begun to change, and Dayu's son began to continuously kill the literati after succeeding to the throne, resulting in the lack of culture, and with the killing, the resentment and solar terms of the literati wandered between heaven and earth, and after thousands of years of purification and baptism, it became the power of literature." ”

Of course, this is only a brief introduction to the origin of the power of literature, and more mysterious is yet to come.

Because this power has been condensed between heaven and earth for thousands of years, it will have infinite benefits for people, and can even play the role of dead people's flesh and bones.

After the initial shock, Chenyang regained his true colors, "Cut, it's so mysterious, isn't it the same as the spirit of Taoism, anyway, it's the essence of heaven and earth, no one has ever seen it, I know it's a bird, etc., the power of literature will increase with the improvement of the writer's level, the writer's level?

Reacting, Chenyang hurriedly put the words "writer level" on the search bar.

Soon, the encyclopedia also came out.

"Writer rank refers to the hierarchy system formulated along with the popularity of writers in writing, and the calculation formula is: (number of web page downloads + microcast fan value + manuscript tax) * 10%. ”

"The rules for measuring the writer rating are as follows:

First-line writers: 5000000

Second-tier writers: 3,000,000

Third-tier writers: 1,000,000

Fourth-line writers: 500000

Fifth-line writers: 300,000

Sixth-line writers: 100,000

……

There are three levels divided into one level, each level is ten times less than the previous level, Chenyang is too lazy to look at it, and directly pulls it to the bottom of the small print part.

"Another: There are also super-level writers, the hierarchy system has not yet been established, and the current level value of Yuan Boping, a super-limited writer known in Huaxia, is 100000000."

"100 million?

After sighing, Chenyang followed the link and read Yuan Boping's personal information and works, but after three or five minutes of effort, the shock on his face turned into indifference, and then from indifference to even more indifference.

can climb to the super-limit level writer, Yuan Boping's talent is not said.

But this is the master level?

A "Deep Love Slowly" dominates romance, and a "Flying Dragon Eternal" has become a martial arts classic?

What about liars!

If this counts, then what are the big names like Grandma Qiong Yao, Jin Yong Gulong Liang Yusheng, and Cao Xueqin, don't they clearly bully people.

Closed the webpage disdainfully, and Chenyang sent the written interview to Hu Zhixue.

The work was done, there was nothing to do in the afternoon, and Chenyang didn't want to just stay at home and be an otaku, so after making sure that Hu Zhixue had accepted the interview script, he turned off the computer and went downstairs to hang out.

Although Jinxin Community is not a high-end residential area, but because it is in the suburbs, it has been strongly supported by the district government in the past few years, and is now a well-known pension community in G City, with a quiet environment and complete facilities.

At four or five o'clock in the afternoon, the old people in the community came out one after another, playing tai chi, playing swords, and dancing square dances, and the originally empty small park suddenly seemed lively.

After running around the small park twice, at half past five, Chenyang was about to go out to eat, and only then did he walk to the gate of the small park, and saw a bunch of uncles and aunts gathered at the gate of the small park.

Chenyang walked over, and saw a table at the entrance of the small park at some point, with pen, ink, paper, and inkstone on the table, and a banner in front of the table, which read "Sunset Red Poetry Society".

Behind the desk, an uncle who looked seventy or eighty years old was holding a brush and waving it, and when Chenyang squeezed in, the uncle was dropping the last stroke.

Uncle started writing.

The middle-aged man holding the rice paper in front of the table took the opportunity to see the rice paper lifted.

The ink has not dried, but seeing that the handwriting on the paper is vigorous and powerful, swaying, swimming dragons and snakes, stirring the paper mixed with ink and presenting it in front of everyone, in the crowd, the uncle standing in front of the point has begun to read aloud.

"Good boy of the Dragon Kingdom,"

"The military horses are on the frontier. ”

"Armor draped over the body,"

"The report is auspicious!"

"Good!"

"Qian Lao's limerick poem is really good!"

Especially this word, which has become better and better in recent years. ”

"And this hidden-head poem, the triumph of the Dragon Army, is really well written!"

Accompanied by applause, the uncles and aunts of the people around them kept praising them, and the uncle who was called Qian Lao waved his hand at everyone, "Where is it, everyone is in love, I Qian someone is just writing nonsense, and I can't get on the big stage." ”

His mouth was modest, but Qian Lao smiled with wrinkles on his face.

After writing a poem, Qian Lao got out of the way, and another old man walked up, arched his hand before lifting the pen and said to everyone, "Brothers, the younger brother is not good at writing, and I will ask you to bear with me later." ”

After speaking, he picked up the brush and began to swing.

After a while, the old people who went up also came down, and showed everyone the poems they had made, followed by the third and fourth, and the old people around them went up one after another, and some of them also made two or three poems in a row.

Chenyang looked a little itchy on the side, but he was too embarrassed to go up and disturb the uncles and aunts, so he could only watch silently from the side.

After two rounds, the inspiration of the uncles and aunts has been almost used, and the number of people who come down and pick them up is not as frequent as just now, but the number of onlookers has increased a lot.

Qian Lao went up and made another poem, turned his head and asked the middle-aged man who had been holding the rice paper just now, "Also, how many are there?"

"With you, there's only one hundred poems left. ”

Qian Lao nodded, put down the brush and asked, "Brothers and sisters, there is still one poem left before we can compose a poem to cheer for the Dragon Army's expedition today, and the merit will be completed, who will come this one?"

As he spoke, he looked at an aunt in her fifties and sixties, "Old sister, you are a famous talented girl in our poetry club, do you want to come to this finale poem?"

"I can't do it, I've already written ten poems, and now my mind is still full of mush, Old Li, why don't you come to this poem?"

Li Lao waved his hand, "I can't do it either, I've exhausted everything in my head just now, and I can't think of anything now, this last poem of the Dragon Army can't be sloppy, Mr. Wang, why don't you come?"

Teacher Wang was honestly afraid, "Old Li, don't push it on me, I have written a lot, and I don't have any goods in my brain, Mr. Qian, you are the patriarch of our Sunset Red Poetry Society, or will you be tired, write another poem?"

Old Qian's face turned red, "Mr. Wang, you really think highly of me, I have written more than 20 poems, and my brain is out of stock, just this poem, I still have to squeeze it out." ”

As he spoke, Qian Lao looked around at everyone, and suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he pointed the barrel of the brush at the young man in the front row, and made a passing motion, "Young man, I see that you have been watching here for a long time, or will you also write a poem?"