The maid slowly polished the ink, and looked at Danniang who was frowning and thinking seriously.

The Chen family's poetry and etiquette family, enlightenment should be earlier, but a girl like Danniang is more relaxed than a boy, presumably now she is just beginning to read the Three Classics, and poetry and poetry are not something that enlightened children can do.

The little girl probably heard her brother, master, father, and grandfather talk about poetry and lyrics.

Cheng Jianniang looked indifferent, just looking at the wall.

"We're here to enjoy the plum blossoms." The maidservant reminded Danniang in a low voice, "You can start with this." ”

Dan Niang's voice.

"yes, yes, I figured it out." She said, coughing her throat, "Plum blossoms, mountain temples, mountain temples come to enjoy plum blossoms." ”

The handmaid smiled and nodded.

"Okay, this is it." She laughed, "What's next?" ”

"Plum blossoms... Plum blossoms..."Danniang thought with her head tilted.

"You can't use plum blossoms." The handmaid reminded.

Danniang pouted.

"I won't." She said.

Cheng Jianniang looked down at her.

"It's okay, just one sentence." She said, holding out her hand.

The maidservant hurriedly handed her the pen.

"Write the sentence I just made?" Danniang blinked and asked, "Can I write the poem I made?" ”

Cheng Jianniang nodded, held the pen, and felt a little trembling at first.

Obviously, if you have strength, you will tremble for something, and there will be a trace of sourness on the tip of your nose.

Writing, just writing.

She looked up at the snow-white walls.

"Danniang, I changed a few words of yours, poem. Luckily? She asked.

Danniang grinned.

"Yes, yes." She said.

The maidservant suddenly became a little nervous. Look at standing by the wall. Cheng Jianniang, who lifted the pen, although she also felt that this nervousness was a little inexplicable.

Cheng Jianniang raised her hand and put down the pen.

The first point trembled, so much so that the ink flowed.

The servant girl groaned in her heart.

Writing on the wall itself was more laborious than usual, and the lady had never mentioned a pen, at least she had never seen it since she came.

Hands are still shaking, still shaking.

Why should she bother, she doesn't write, her hands and feet can move. Healing can nourish the body, words, whether you can write or not, what matters if you can write or not.

"Stupid, I can't even write, let alone my daughter!"

A voice suddenly exploded in her head, Cheng Jianniang only felt a bang, and her eyes were full of mist.

Who it is, who it is.

She took a deep breath and flipped her wrist to make her move.

The slave on the side only felt that her breathing had stopped. She never thought that she could see this feeling when she watched a person write.

It seems like you're going to suffocate. The woman's hand turned again.

The slave breathed a sigh of relief, holding her hands on her chest, feeling that her life had been so long, but in fact, it was only a blink of an eye.

"Mountain," she read slowly.

"Temple" Danniang also recited.

"Wait," the slave said, suddenly snorting, her eyes widening.

She didn't have time to say anything, and Danniang continued to read it.

"Mei...," Danniang said, tilting her head.

"Open" Cheng Jianniang read out the last word, put away the pen, and stood a few steps back.

On the snow-white wall, a line of large characters is particularly conspicuous at this time.

Cheng Jianniang watched, the maidservant also watched, and Danniang also watched.

One is smooth, one is surprised, and one is pretty.

Father...

Although I don't remember who you are, I can't remember who I am, but as long as I'm still here, I can wait, you wait for me, when I think of everything, during this period, I will definitely live a happy life.

"Let's go, enjoy the plums." Cheng Jianniang said, walked towards the back door with her sleeves folded, and did not look back.

Danniang's child had already changed her interest, and she happily followed when she heard the words, and the maid came back from her stunned and saw that she was the only one in the hall, and she was busy following.

They went out the back door, and a group of people came in front of them, laughing and laughing in accents different from those of Beijing.

“…… Mr. Zhang Jiangzhou is for the benefit of our students who go to the examination, so he will give a lecture after the year, focusing on the scriptures. ”

“…… It's just that there are so many students, I don't know if we will be lucky enough to listen to it..."

“…… At this time, it is still early, and when the first month comes, the plum and snow here reflect each other, and the poetry will be prosperous..."

“…… If it is well written, it will be covered with green veil, and this wall will remain...."

“…… Brother Wenming, then you can make a poem quickly, I will write it next to you, and when the time comes, it will be passed down through the ages..."

Everyone laughed and stood in front of the white wall, and was stunned.

"Who is this? Nonsense! ”

Poetry and poetry, not poetry at least are words, how can there be a sentence written, what is this called?

"The mountain temple is waiting to be opened." Someone read aloud, "This can't be regarded as a starting sentence, barely a closing sentence, but what is this just thrown here!" ”

Someone came in from outside the door, and when he saw the excitement here, he naturally looked over, and immediately stomped his feet.

"It's all nonsense, it's good to destroy this wall..."

"There is no monk to guard it, so let people scribble..."

In the messy shaking of his head and sighing and feeling insulting, someone sighed and looked at the words on the wall seriously.

"This kind of word... What is it? How do you seem to have never seen it? He muttered, unconsciously copying it in his hand.

Gradually, some people also noticed, and they couldn't help but pay attention, that line of words was written on the wall, which was too conspicuous.

"Hey, you see, every word is different!"

"Wonderful, wonderful, sure enough, sure enough, the clouds are flowing and the transformation is free..."

"But it's a pity that the first word is hesitant, so that the whole word has no momentum..."

“… I've been studying calligraphy since I was four years old, but I've never seen these five fonts? ”

There are more and more people in the small side hall, and the excitement has attracted more people to come, and the people in the distance don't know what happened to the road, and they asked each other.

"Someone wrote a great poem?"

"At this time, it is not yet the best time, it is only good for the time being, and it will not be long before there will be a better one."

Some people are amazed, some are indifferent, and some are disdainful.

There were three or four people who admired the plum blossoms from afar, and they also heard the excitement here.

"Brother Qinglin, when we just went in, there were only four poems, and we looked at them all, could it be because of your poems?" Someone said.

The middle-aged man who was called Qinglin had an unconcealable excitement between his eyebrows, but he was forced to calm down.

"How dare you." He said.

"I have long felt that Brother Qinglin's poems are very different."

Others complimented it.

There are many people who are famous for a poem, and they will even be favored by some big people.

This kind of good thing actually fell back on his head, the man couldn't help but breathe heavily, and his companion was jealous and excited, although it was a pity that he couldn't become famous in one fell swoop, but it was also good to be a friend of a celebrity.

"Ask, ask." Hurriedly said at the moment.

A few people came over, but the side hall here couldn't be squeezed in.

"Excuse me, what's going on here?" A person took a deep breath and asked as if he was surprised.

"Someone wrote a good poem." The person in front said excitedly.

Sure enough, several people glanced at each other, and Brother Qinglin's face turned slightly red, and his hanging hand was clenched.

"What is the poem? Who is the author? The companion asked in a trembling voice.

The man looked back at him.

"There are too many people to squeeze in, I haven't seen it yet," he said.

So what are you excited about... A few people despise it in their hearts.

In the back and forth of the inquiry, I finally asked.

"No names."

Didn't leave a name? How can you write a poem without leaving a name, isn't that flattering to the blind?

Several people were stunned and looked at Brother Qinglin.

"I, I remember writing the name." Brother Qinglin said with a red face.

"Maybe it's too small, I don't see it." Someone whispered a guess.

The people in front of them couldn't tell clearly, and a few people squeezed to the door with white eyes in a hurry, and they couldn't squeeze in anymore here.

"That's a poem written by my senior brother!" Someone couldn't help but shout.

The person standing in front of him blocking the way turned his head, but strangely enough, instead of agitation and worship, he rolled his eyes.

"This trick is not good, let's die." They said in unison, "We haven't seen enough, and we won't get out of the way." ”

"It's really a poem written by a senior brother!" Several people couldn't help but shout again.

"What, it's not poetry here, it's words." The person in front sneered and said, "The poems you wrote, the poems you wrote on the wall are a fart in front of other people's words." ”

What the? Not poetry? Is it a word?

A few people tiptoed to look over the shoulders of the people in front of them.

The mountain temple is waiting to be opened.

The five words are drenched in ink, with a bit of pride, a bit of unspeakable charm, and they burst into view.

Such a simple vernacular, in this horizontal and vertical skimming and turning, is like a dragon's eye, jumping alive and roaring.

The mountain temple waits for the plum to open, wait, the plum, open! (To be continued......)