The reason why Shen Lang spent a lot of money was like dirt.

Isn't it to see the most beautiful girl in Datang?

But this damn boy in white actually made him give up.

Is Shen Lang the kind of person who gives up easily?

Since this Liu Monong girl has won the Oiran for three consecutive years, no one can see her beauty.

Presumably she is lonely, lonely.

Then the young master warmed her with his extremely warm embrace!

Thinking of this, the corners of Shen Lang's mouth couldn't help but rise slightly, revealing an evil smile.

The white-clothed man on the side saw it in his eyes, and he was even more angry in his heart.

"What a arrogant child! Do you know who I am? ”

The man in white asked angrily at Shen Lang.

"Boss, lead the way. Your Oiran, I'm sleeping, sir! ”

Shen Lang directly ignored the existence of the man in white, and said to the old bustard extremely domineeringly.

Who are you?

Who you are!

The mysterious Oiran is close at hand, of course, soak her first!

"There are three levels in the assessment of Miss Monong, if the son can pass it successfully, he will naturally be able to meet Miss Monong."

The old bustard was not angry at Shen Lang's arrogance, and still said with a smile.

"The first level is to compose poetry. There are countless talents in Chang'an City, and the poems that have not been done so far can enter the eyes of Miss Mo Nong! ”

"With the smell of copper in your body, you must not even be able to write, right?"

Before the bustard could introduce Shen Lang, the white-clothed boy on the side sneered.

Obviously, now he and Shen Lang are completely on the same page.

Poetry?

Although I can't compose poems, I can memorize poems!

Do you think my elementary school is white?

Crush you group of Tang turtles, you don't even need the knowledge of junior high school textbooks.

"Come on!"

"Molai!"

Shen Lang immediately rolled up his sleeves and shouted rudely.

Seeing him like this, the onlookers of Chang'an immediately sighed.

For Shen Lang, a nouveau riche who spends a lot of money, in the eyes of readers, he is naturally the most despised.

What's more, with his rude actions, where is the slightest Confucian demeanor of a scholar?

This is simply for the reading people!

Shame among the readers, scum!

"Everyone is optimistic, if he can't make a complete poem, he will be beaten out of the Drunken Cloud Pavilion!"

"Don't think a few stinky money can defile Miss Murnon!"

"Get him out!"

"Get out of the Drunken Cloud Pavilion!"

Under the secret instigation of the man in white, the onlookers instantly became excited.

They can't wait to attack Shen Lang in a group to relieve the hatred in their hearts!

Although Chang'an is the capital of the Tang Dynasty, there is naturally no shortage of sons and young masters from high-ranking officials and noble families.

But many more of the scholars are poor scholars.

It was an extremely luxurious thing for them to come to this Drunken Cloud Pavilion to drink a glass of wine.

Now that Shen Lang is spending money in Pingkangfang, he has naturally become a thorn in their side.

Whether in ancient times or in later generations, there was never a shortage of haters of the rich.

Datang is no exception.

"What if the master can make it?"

Shen Lang immediately sneered and asked.

The arrogance of no one in his eyes, the powerful aura that scattered in an instant.

In an instant, the surrounding readers were stunned.

This stupid son of the landlord's family can compose poetry?

Who gave him courage?

"If any of you can make poems that can beat the master, the master will admit defeat and listen to the favor."

"If you lose, then you will kneel down and shout Lord!"

Shen Lang glanced around, and finally locked his eyes on the man in white, and said provocatively.

Obviously, he is challenging the man in white!

Aren't you proud to be a scholar?

That little master is beating you today, a scholar!

The poet may not be as good as you.

But reciting poems, you are all a bunch of scum!

"Good! If you're not as good as us, then get out of Pingkangfang! ”

As soon as Shen Lang's words fell, the man in white couldn't wait to say.

He was afraid that Shen Lang would regret it.

With this rampant boy who smells of copper, what good poem can he make?

Even if he could, what if he could?

Can he outperform the Chang'an geniuses around him?

He's humiliating himself!

The boy in white, who wanted to teach Shen Lang a lesson, how could he miss such a good opportunity?

After a while, the old bustard ordered someone to bring pen, ink, paper, and inkstone.

She even grinded for Shen Lang personally.

After they made such a fuss, Zuiyun Pavilion was about to become the focus of Chang'an again.

This is naturally something that the old bustard can't ask for.

Under the gaze of countless pairs of eyes, Shen Lang slowly picked up the brush.

I saw him looking up at the closed door on the second floor at forty-five degrees, pretending to be in deep thought.

He believed that this mysterious girl Liu Monong must be hiding behind a certain door.

She may be looking at herself at this time.

But which one is her boudoir?

Is she as beautiful as she is legendary?

Do you have long legs?

Is it a big place?

Is it warped or not?

Shen Lang was full of deep curiosity about this Oiran.

But in the eyes of everyone, his eyes were so melancholy.

As if in deep thought, racking my brains.

But who knows, Shen Lang thought about the three measurements of the Oiran again......

I wanted to approach you as an ordinary person and possess you.

But now you are so proud.

Then don't blame the master, I'm high-profile!

Senior Du Fu, I'm sorry.

If you want to blame it, you were born too late.

"The country is broken by mountains and rivers, and the city is deep in spring and grass."

"When I feel the tears, I hate to say goodbye to the birds."

"The beacon fire lasted for three months, and the family letter was worth 10,000 gold."

"The whitehead scratching is shorter, and the hairpin is overwhelming."

Shen Lang muttered as he splashed ink.

Although his handwriting is extremely ugly, as he writes, he can't help but think of the desolation of the frontier.

The corpses strewn across the field, the battlefield where rivers of blood flowed.

Those Tang Dynasty soldiers who never returned.

Their wives and children are old and young, and they can no longer wait for their family letters......

When he wrote, 'The beacon fire lasted for three months, and the family letter was worth 10,000 gold', his eyes instantly turned red.

His incomparably bleak voice reminded everyone of the recent Battle of the Frontier not long ago.

The endless sorrow surged in everyone's hearts in an instant.

Pen down.

A hot tear then pierced Shen Lang's vicissitudes of life.

At this time, although the Drunken Cloud Pavilion was crowded with onlookers from Chang'an, it was silent, and the needles could be heard.

The eyes of the crowd were slightly red, and there were tears in their eyes.

Don't be afraid of the ornate rhetoric of the verses.

I'm afraid that people will adapt to the situation and evoke that sad memory.

There is no doubt that Shen Lang's poem was written in the hearts of everyone.

It gently touched the softest place in their hearts.

At this time, Shen Lang raised his tear-stained cheeks and looked up at the closed door on the second floor.

"Brothers, today I will show you all the most beautiful girls in Chang'an."

Shen Lang looked sad and muttered alone in his heart.

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