"You say, third brother, why did you suddenly perform so well tonight?"

Li Ying was also annoyed by her wandering.

Just before Princess Yuzhen announced the list of poets, he always felt that it should be Shouwang Li Mao, because among the descendants of the royal family, only Li Mao was the most talented, chanting poems, and was deeply liked by the emperor since he was a child.

However, what didn't make him think was that in the end, Shikui Hualuo was the third brother Li Xiangjia.

"Perhaps, metamorphosis?"

Li Cong thought about it for a while and used a more advanced word.

"Metamorphosis?"

Li Ying is not so profound.

"Well, I think this year's poetry meeting seems to have an unusual atmosphere."

Li Cong looked at Li Xiang who was gradually moving away, holding a little doll in his hand who didn't know whose house, and had a warm exchange with all the acquaintances and unfamiliar people along the way.

Looking at the light on his face, Li Cong's heart was also extremely envious.

"Yes, even the third brother, who has always been unknown, won the championship tonight."

Li Ying also smiled helplessly.

"yes, tonight seems to be so different from previous years."

Li Cong looked at Li Xiang in the distance, and gradually fell into contemplation, he knew that starting tomorrow night, the entire Chang'an will recite the scenery of tonight's New Year's poetry meeting, and then, the entire Tang Empire will also be known to everyone, in the prosperous Chang'an, in the power core of the Tang Empire, there is a talented prince, just like a rising star.

He will eventually shine in every corner of the Tang Empire.

However, for Li Cong, although Li Xiang is ranked third in line to the throne, his mother was born lowly, and she didn't even have an official concubine name, and Li Xiang was given to Queen Wang to raise after she was born.

But this man, whom he had never felt as a threat, shone so brightly tonight.

Li Cong gently withdrew his gaze from Li Xiang's back, and then, he saw an almost poisonous look in the eyes of Shouwang Li Mao on another table not far away.

With resentment.

With unwillingness.

There are also grievances.

Seeing Li Cong's heart, he felt slightly tightened.

It was as if he saw a poisonous snake spitting letters, even on a bitter winter night.

"Xiang'er, who is this little brother?"

Princess Yuzhen looked at Li Xiang holding a little child and turned back again, and asked strangely.

"Aunt Hui, this is my little brother, he wants to get to know a few seniors."

After Li Xiang finished speaking, he glanced at Wang Wei, Meng Haoran, Wang Changling and others beside Princess Yuzhen.

"Really?"

Princess Yuzhen looked at the little doll in front of her, with a fleshy little face and big round eyes, and she looked very cute.

And déjà vu.

"That's right, Your Royal Highness Sister Princess!"

Yang Jian looked at Princess Yuzhen, she was not stage frightened at all, his voice was childish and crisp, pleasant and comfortable to listen to.

"Oops, look at your little mouth, hahaha-"

Princess Yuzhen put the dust in her hand into the hands of the maid beside her, and the two jade hands that were like soft lids couldn't help but pinch Yang Jian's face.

"Your Royal Highness, Sister Princess, you are so beautiful!"

Nine-year-old physical, twenty-five-year-old Yang Jian, who has emotional intelligence, is simply a woman killer.

"Oh, the little guy has such a sweet mouth, Maha, look, isn't this little guy cute?"

Princess Yuzhen is also a woman.

Women love to listen to men's praise.

Especially being praised for her beauty by a little doll who doesn't know the world, isn't that more lethal?

"Yes, Your Highness Princess."

Wang Wei looked at Yang Jian and smiled at him.

It's just that when he saw Yang Jian's little eyes, his heart was full of sighs.

Why is this guy so young, but the moment he made eye contact with himself just now, why is there a profundity in it that he can't understand, in a flash?

Does he know himself?

He admires himself?

But how is this possible?

How old is he, how could he have such a deep and complex emotional projection?

"Well, little one, which uncle do you want to know?"

Princess Yuzhen has completely unguarded and was attacked by Yang Jian's innocence, with Princess Yuzhen's meticulousness, she didn't ask about the origin and origin of this child.

Otherwise, Li Xiang will not escape the blame.

"Sister Princess, can I hug my three uncles?"

Yang Jian looked at Princess Yuzhen, but the corner of his eye was always on Wang Wei, Meng Haoran, Wang Changling and others.

"Of course, you can go."

Princess Yuzhen let go of Yang Jian and watched him walk towards others, with reluctance on her face.

It was only a few seconds, but Princess Yuzhen seemed to feel that she had some kind of deep fate with the little guy in front of her, like a long-lost reunion.

He made her let go of all her guard and vigilance.

"Uncle Meng, hello!"

Yang Jian first walked in front of Meng Haoran, who was closest to him, stood still, and then opened his hands.

"Hello, little one, you haven't told us your name yet?"

Meng Haoran is tranquil by nature and keen on pastoral and landscape, so when he looked at Yang Jian, he didn't have the slightest other idea in his heart, he just thought that this little guy was cute and full of spirituality.

"My name is Yang Jian, Uncle Meng. Yang Jian has admired Uncle Jian's name for a long time! ”

Yang Jian was also very strange, how did her voice become such a ghost, as much as she wanted.

"Really, little Yang Jane?"

Meng Haoran also felt that the little guy in front of him was cute and cute, cute and dexterous.

"Well, I can memorize a lot of Uncle Meng's poems."

Yang Jian turned on the performance mode.

"Oh, yes, back to listen?"

When Princess Yuzhen heard this, she was also very curious.

"I don't know when I sleep in spring, and I smell birds everywhere. The sound of wind and rain comes at night, and the flowers fall to know how much. ”

Spring poetry, innocent voice.

Yang Jian shook his head and shook his head, and he had already turned Princess Yuzhen into a daze.

"Will there be anything else?"

Princess Yuzhen knew that this poem was a well-known work of Meng Haoran in his early years, and it had already spread throughout the Tang Empire.

"Well, yes, Your Royal Highness Sister Princess, you listen to Yang Jian read it to you-the old man Gu Ji Xiao, invite me to Tian's house. The green tree village is close to the edge, and the green mountain Guo is oblique outside. Open the noodle garden, and talk about the wine. Stay until the Double Ninth Day, and come to chrysanthemums. ”

This is Meng Haoran's true idyll.

Wrote about the peaceful pastoral life, containing friendship, the whole poem is natural, not carved, and later generations are highly evaluated. This is also a poem that Yang Jian would recite when he was in elementary school.

"Oh, it's terrible, Brother Haoran, isn't this kid a god descending to earth?"

You must know that this poem has passed through the old man's village, but Meng Haoran has just made a poem not long ago, that is, it is recited among a few familiar friends who often sing and communicate with each other, but it is far from the degree of popularity known in the streets and alleys.

And the little kid in front of him can actually recite it throughout, which is not simple.

"Indeed, little brother, which son are you, and who taught you this poem?"

Meng Haoran couldn't hold on to his reserve anymore, squatted down, and looked at Yang Jian with a curious expression. Because, according to his guess, the person who knows this poem must be an old man, or someone who has a deep relationship with the old man.

"Well, this poem was taught to me by my grandfather."

Yang Jian felt that there might be something wrong with his performance, but since the other party asked, he could only answer hard.

"Who is your grandfather?"

Meng Haoran was also curious.