"Knock knock!"

A crisp knock on the door sounded, waking up Song Wanqing, who was in deep thought. Pen ~ fun ~ pavilion www.biquge.info

"Xiaoqing, it's me, grandpa."

A kind voice came from outside the door, and the stern tone of the previous reprimand for his son and grandson was completely different from the two of them.

"Grandpa, the door is unlocked."

Song Wanqing also responded, then patted her face, and quickly stood up from the chair.

She was brought up by her grandfather when she was a child, and her grandfather was ******** in a special era, and he had more time to spend with his granddaughter, and Song Wanqing grew up in her grandfather's vast books and stories that her grandfather seemed to never finish, so to speak, her closest person was her grandfather.

"Xiaoqing, don't be angry, your father and your brother have already been trained, I sent them to the house next door to watch the game...... Whatever you do standing, just sit. ”

With a gentle smile on his face, the old man waved his hand to sit down as he walked into the room.

He walked up to Song Wanqing's side.

"Hey, I'm old, and my brain can't keep up, just after eating, I went out to kill a few games of chess with your grandpa Ma, and I felt a little tired, I thought back then, I ......" The old man also likes to brag about his previous glorious history, or maybe he just wants to find a topic to open the conversation, and when he saw his granddaughter looking at him with a smile on his face, he immediately changed the topic.

"Forget it, don't talk about this, you're tired of listening to it, I'm just worried that you're sulking, so I came in to take a look......"

"Grandpa! I'm not angry! ”

Hearing her grandfather say this, Song Wanqing hurriedly shook her head.

"Not angry? Not angry that you slammed the door so hard? I've watched you grow up since I was a child, and I don't know your temper yet? The old man smiled at the corner of his mouth, although he said so, but there was no reproach in his tone.

"I'm just, just ......"

Song Wanqing didn't know what to say for a while, she was really angry at the time, after all, a difficult problem that she had been thinking about for a long time, and finally had a clue, and then she was interrupted, and her thoughts were completely broken, which was indeed a very impatient and angry thing, but now that she thinks about it, her father and brother didn't mean it, and what she did at that time was indeed a little too radical.

The old man waved his hand and continued to smile: "I understand, I understand......" Just when the old man wanted to say something more, his eyes fell on his granddaughter's open notebook, and he saw the poem "Man Jianghong" written by Yu Zheng on it.

"Huh!?"

Then, the old man was shocked.

Song Wanqing also glanced at her grandfather's eyes, and after seeing her grandfather see this song "Man Jianghong", her face turned red again.

She suddenly realized that if her grandfather asked her about the poem, she didn't know how to answer.

The old man pondered carefully for a while, frowned and thought for a while, and finally shook his head, he said with some pity: "The artistic conception of this poem is very good, the person who wrote this poem probably has a specific object to express his feelings, this object should be a person with unpaid ambitions, there is a kind of sadness between the lines, and the portrayal is very intriguing...... It's just that the words are too modern, there is no ancient meaning, some places don't rhyme very well, and there are also things wrong in Pingxuan. ”

While speaking, the old man sighed again: "Although I said that, it is rare for modern people to fill in such a poem." After saying that, the old man turned his head to look at his granddaughter.

"Xiaoqing, where did you copy this poem......

Before he finished speaking, the old man shook his head again: "No, this is not your copy, this is not your handwriting." ”

After finishing speaking, the old man looked at Song Wanqing with a puzzled expression.

Song Wanqing didn't know why, but at this time, Yu Zheng wrote this poem in her notebook calmly and calmly in her mind, and when she saw her grandfather's eyes full of doubts, she hesitated for a moment, but still said, "This ...... This poem was written by one of my classmates, and I thought it was really well written, so I asked him to write it in my notebook. ”

When the words came to her lips, she involuntarily changed her table mate to a classmate.

I don't know what I'm worried about.

"Did a classmate write it?"

When the old man heard his granddaughter's reply, his face was even more surprised, he had guessed several possibilities before, such as a teacher in the school, or a certain publication, but he didn't expect that this poem was extremely rich in artistic conception, but the words lacking in rhythm were written by a high school student.

Writing is not writing.

This is a writing skill that requires hard practice to master.

It is impossible for a modern high school student who has never received a private school education to know how to choose and rhyme when writing a poem.

These are not taught in schools.

Looking at this poem, although there are some shortcomings in the use of rhyme, it can still be clearly seen that the person who fills in this poem knows how to use rhyme and knows how to use it, but it is limited to various restrictions, so it can only be filled in like this.

Song Wanqing's grandfather went to a private school when he was a child, and he naturally knew how to fill in the lyrics, although he was later admitted to Peking University after studying Western studies, but writing poems and lyrics is also a big hobby of his, and he has not put it down for decades.

It's not very good, but it's also a little bit of a thing.

"There are talented people in the country."

The old man also sighed: "The young people now are really powerful, I might as well ...... too" While sighing, the old man instructed his granddaughter, "Xiaoqing, you go and ask your classmate tomorrow, who is described in his poem, I can only see that it should be an ancient man thousands of years ago, but the few I think in my own heart seem to be not very ......."

"Okay."

Song Wanqing heard her grandfather say this, and she nodded ignorantly.

She was surprised.

She really didn't expect that even her grandfather would have such a high evaluation of this song from her tablemate! You know, her grandfather is not a little white sheep like herself who only knows how to read ancient poems.

It's a real and famous talent in Yanjing back then!

Prefectural Distillery Family Hospital.

It was already ten o'clock in the evening, and the lights were still on in Yu Zheng's room.

Everyone else in the house slept.

Yu Zheng couldn't sleep a little, he was thinking about things in his head, not the game tonight, and that game was nothing to remember now.

It's about how he made his first pot of gold.

He opened his notebook, and the first page was written on the poem "Man Jianghong" that he had written on it in class today.

This is not a word of the decade.

It comes from the future, from a TV series that was once popular in China.