The pen falls, the poem is completed!

Bai Yi leisurely put down the brush, and then looked up. Pen % fun % Pavilion www.biquge.info

And at this moment, the eunuch's shrill voice sounded: "The time has come, please hand in your poems." ”

As the eunuch's harsh words fell, two people came down from the stage and began to collect the poems of the people below.

I have to say that this is still quite difficult, basically two-thirds of the people have been brushed down.

After all, in the past few years, there have never been such exam questions as poetry in the first round, and even if they do, they are all relatively easy, but this time, it requires a lake, a moon and a Mid-Autumn Festival, and it also requires the occasion. This brushed off a lot of people at once.

The people behind the white clothes couldn't help but sneer when they saw that he had handed in the poems.

"Obviously you can't write poetry, what else are you pretending, cut, this time, you will be embarrassed!"

They are already looking forward to the poems in white, and they are scolded for being bullshit!

After all the poems were handed in, the two of them divided the poems into two and handed them to the two old men sitting in the middle of the stage.

These two old men are the only two remaining Confucian elders in the Longyuan Empire, proficient in poetry and songs, and even music and rhythm, they are extremely proficient, and every year's Golden Autumn Talent Meeting is also presided over by the two of them, and the results are judged.

The two old men took the manuscript of the poem and read it.

For a while, all the people in the audience were nervously watching the two old men, and even the girls on the cruise ship were watching them, either curious about whose poems were the best, or worried about their lover.

Even Su Jinxuan, who has always been indifferent, was a little nervous.

She knew how much Jiang Zhiling had done for Bai Yi, and this time, if Bai Yi couldn't succeed, then Jiang Zhiling would be so heartbroken!

So, for a while, everyone in the audience became nervous, but Bai Yi was alone, still thinking about what to do when he went home tonight.

Suddenly, an old man slapped the board in front of him.

"Good poetry, good poetry!"

Hearing this, everyone was shocked in their hearts, and immediately shifted their eyes to the old man.

The old man he saw was full of intoxication, and he kept admiring and saying: "This poetic mood is empty and majestic, which makes people fascinated." From the wind and clouds, written to the rising and setting of the moon, and finally ended in the singing of the plain girl. It is as if you are transported into a wonderful world. And the tone of the pen is brisk, as smooth as the flow of water in the same industry. What a poem!"

"The most important thing is that in this poem, I also secretly praised Long Yuanguo, and the girls who came to participate in the grand event today, they are light-minded, and I have to say that the person who wrote the poem is really talented!" Speaking of this, the old man couldn't help but laugh softly.

I don't know if I'm laughing at another talented person in my country, or if I'm laughing at the sycophants of poets?

And hearing the old man praise this poem so much, everyone below couldn't help but be curious, whose poems could have such talent, which made the old Confucian amazed.

Suddenly, everyone shifted their attention to Murong Qingyun and Chen Jianhua, and in Qianlong City, only Murong Qingyun and Chen Jianhua were more prominent.

However, at this time, Murong Qingyun and Chen Jianhua both frowned slightly, because they both knew that in their poems, there was no singing voice of the plain girl! For a while, both of them guessed each other.

However, the only thing they didn't expect was the white clothes.

"Hehe, Ming Lao, look at your praise so much, then I don't know if you can recite it, let me listen to it too, what kind of masterpiece is it!"

Seeing that the old man was so admired, the old man beside him asked out loud.

Hearing this, the person known as Ming Lao smiled and said: "Haha, but the old man forgot, well, such a masterpiece, not only the old man appreciates it, then I will recite it and let everyone enjoy it!"

After saying that, the old man got up suddenly, and the color behind him became excited, and he chanted loudly: "The long wind and haze are thousands of miles away, and the clouds are fluffy and the sky is full of water. The wind collects the clouds and disperses the waves, and the reverse sunny day makes the bottom of the lake ......"

I have to say that this old man's recitation was extremely emotional, and under his subdued recitation, not only the old man next to him gradually got better, but even the students, teachers, and everyone in the audience on the stage fell into the realm of fugue.

Even the fat man Li Shifeng next to him in white looked surprised, although he didn't understand the meaning of those poems, but he also faintly felt very good.

Bai Yi also glanced at Ming Lao in surprise, such a level of chanting is really rare!

After chanting, everyone gasped, and then everyone looked at Murong Qingyun, and their eyes flashed with admiration.

Even Chen Jianhua, looking at Murong Qingyun's back, was ashamed of himself, and said in his heart: "The Murong family is worthy of the Murong family, such a talent is indeed not something I can compete for!"

However, Murong Qingyun felt the gazes of others, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, if this poem was written by him, he would definitely enjoy these gazes, but the key is that this poem was not written by him!

"Whew, this poem is indeed good. My Longyuan Kingdom has been inherited for thousands of years, and there has never been such a masterpiece of Yongyue!" The old man took a deep breath and asked aloud: "Old Ming, who made this poem?"

"Who did it?" Ming Lao muttered softly, and then turned his gaze to the white clothes.

"Is it Murong Qingyun?" The old man also turned his head to look when he saw Ming Lao looking in the direction of the white clothes, and when he saw Murong Qingyun, he asked softly.

In his impression, among the younger generation, there is only Murong Qingyun who can have such a name.

And when they heard that the old man had said Murong Qingyun's name, everyone in the audience also looked at Murong Qingyun with a look of admiration.

The women on the lake looked at Murong Qingyun shyly one by one, and recited the last sentence of the poem in their hearts: "When I heard the plain girl singing, I felt that it was the Mid-Autumn Festival." ”

Murong Qingyun suddenly felt that Alexander, in his heart, had already scolded the person who made this poem thousands of times. However, he didn't expect that the person who wrote this poem would sit indifferently next to him not far away.

"Huh. Ming Lao smiled bitterly and said, "Speaking of which, I didn't expect that the person who made this poem would be in white!"

"Congratulations to Murong ......"

As soon as the old man said these words, he was immediately stunned, and said in surprise: "What did you say? The author is in white clothes?" and then suddenly looked at white clothes.

"What? The author is white?"

In a word, it suddenly set off boundless waves.

All the people, whether they were talents on or off the stage, or people on the cruise ship, looked at Bai Yi with a kind of horror and disbelief.

(Ask for recommendation votes, in addition, this book has already been signed, so don't worry about the update, I will definitely keep writing it.) Well, ask for votes and collections, weekly recommended votes reach 400, add one chapter, reach 800 plus two chapters, 1200 three chapters, and so on, no upper limit !!)

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