Could it be that this poem was written by Fu Juren?

It's not impossible. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

Bai Zicong did not hesitate to deny this idea.

Although Fu Juren's official position is not high, he has presided over previous government examinations, and there are many people who wear red robes and are officials in the court, who dares to really despise him because of his rank.

Ma Wu was just a ruffian in his lifetime, and with Fu Juren's status, if he wanted to embarrass him, he only needed to talk to the officials a few times, and there was no need to be so troublesome.

Could it be that someone accidentally obtained the ink treasure of the Great Confucian?

However, which great Confucian ink treasure is not hard to find, and occasionally there are genuine works flowing out, and they will also be divided by the wealthy families of Shendu and treasured as heirlooms.

Zhibei County is just a small border town, how can there be authentic Confucianism?

Even if Zhibei County really has the authentic relics of Confucianism, it will definitely be regarded as a treasure, how can it be so wasteful.

In Bai Zicong's opinion, not to mention the three-entry courtyard in such a border place as Zhibei County, it is ten mansions of this size in the prosperous land of Bei County, which is not as precious as a volume of Confucian handwriting.

Bai Zicong smiled a little self-deprecatingly.

The biggest possibility is that a certain son of a wealthy family in North County traveled here and did it easily.

Thinking about it deeply, this poem, this is not a challenge from the children of the Hao clan of Beijun to the entire Confucian students of Zhibei County.

Since you want to fight, then fight!

An dares to deceive me, and no one cares about the north.

I think I Bai Zicong can speak at the age of one, can write poetry at the age of six, and beat the crowd at the age of fifteen and become the head of the new department.

is the genius son of the wealthy family of Beijun, under the tilt of family resources, the year of the weak crown is nothing more than that.

Thinking of this, Bai Zicong's eyes were instantly full of fighting spirit, as if a fire was burning.

There was a sense of ambition and pride in his chest, which rolled and soared like a dragon, giving Bai Zicong a sense of not vomiting and unhappy.

"Bring the pen!"

Bai Zicong opened his placket slightly, let the wind blow on his chest, his mood still did not calm down, he stepped forward directly, pushed away the little guy who was laying out the paper with a paperweight, and held down the smooth poetry raft, and then shouted loudly.

"No!"

The servant didn't dare to say much, and respectfully handed the moistened brush to Bai Zicong's hand.

"Good!"

Bai Zicong shouted, lifted the brush, splashed ink, and the pen walked without pause, and it was done in one go.

The words fell on the paper like drumsticks hitting the surface of the drum, making a roaring sound. When the last word fell on the raft of poetry, one by one resonated, as if a hundred war drums were ringing in unison, and in front of such guards, even the raging flames were stagnant.

Bai Zicong couldn't suppress the pride in his heart, threw out the brush in his hand, and scratched a green trace in the air, causing onlookers to grab it wildly.

"This is the brush used by Bai Gongzi, and it must be stained with a literary atmosphere. ”

"Don't rob me, my baby is reading. ”

"Don't rob it, this is my young master's brush, don't grab it!"

A few little guys saw that the brush was robbed by everyone, and shouted in distress.

"Haha!"

Looking at the wolf pen that flew down and was robbed madly, Bai Zicong didn't have any regretful thoughts in his heart, but had a kind of heroism that a big husband should be.

A trace of white qi gathered above.

Huanxi Sand

The desert is cold and goes up to the small building,

Xiaoyin is a scoundrel like a poor autumn.

The light smoke and flowing water paint the screen.

Flying flowers are as light as a dream,

The boundless rain is as thin as sorrow.

The curtain hangs with a small silver hook.

One inch, two inches, three inches, four inches, five inches!

Naruto poems!

Within the boundaries of North County, it will be spread.

Bai Zicong will also become famous because of this.

After being stunned, Bai Zicong showed a look of ecstasy on his face. He himself didn't expect that with the unwillingness in his heart and the arrogance that was difficult to express, he would write a five-inch Mingjun masterpiece.

Even from a place where geniuses gather in North County, there are few people who can write a masterpiece with a five-inch literary style.

Rumble!

There was a sudden surge in the sky, after a thunderclap. The boundless drizzle fell from the sky, this rain was larger and denser than the slanting wind drizzle just now, if it wasn't for the little guy taking the opportunity to open the paper umbrella, Bai Zicong in white would definitely be drenched in soup and embarrassed.

Bai Zicong glanced at it with some appreciation, and after holding a paper umbrella and a flattering smile on his face, he shook the paper fan lightly and looked at the wind and rain with a proud face.

The little guy was looked at by Bai Zicong, and felt that the bones in his whole body were lighter, with his chest straight, his neck high, and an indescribable pride on his face.

The people who watched the excitement around were hit by the sudden rainstorm, and their whole bodies were instantly soaked, and their hair was soaked by the rain, and they were tied and drooped down one by one.

But no one left, their eyes fixed on the raft of poetry on the table.

God, this is a five-inch masterpiece, and the quality difference of one inch can reach Mingshu.

You must know that the six-inch Mingzhou poem, the text bell will be self-ringing, recorded in the "Wen Yi Dao" of the Daqian Dynasty, and published all over the world.

Zhibei County has been nearly a hundred years, and no six-inch masterpiece has been born, and the Wenzhong of the Confucian Temple has also been silent for nearly a hundred years.

Although it is a pity that it did not become a six-inch masterpiece.

The five-inch style is also very remarkable.

The poem becomes Mingjun, and as long as it is spread over a period of time, it will eventually become a Naruto poem.

Rumble!

The thunder grew louder and louder, and the rain poured down, and then it was even more like a pour.

But the burning flame just pressed down gently, and then made a popping sound, not only did not extinguish as scheduled, but burned more violently.

Houses were reduced to ashes in the flames, and Bai Zicong felt that his heart was instantly turned into pieces.

How can it be?

What is the grade of the poem that started the fire?

No five-inch masterpiece can be extinguished.

That's a five-inch masterpiece.

Even in the densely populated North County, there are only a handful of talented people who can write five-inch masterpieces, and they are rare.

A five-inch masterpiece can't suppress a fire for no apparent reason.

Could it be that this fire was put by the poet, who can tell what is wrong with the world?

Could it be that the children of the Hao clan in North County can write Narushu poems that are more than six inches long?

Could it be that he really sits in the well and watches the sky and looks down on the heroes of the world?

If Situ Xing knew what Bai Zicong was thinking, he would definitely say out loud, forked, Lao Tzu's poems are not written by the poet saint Du Fu.

"Bang!"

Another main beam was burned to ashes. The house without the support of the main beam seemed to be stripped of its muscles and bones, and instantly turned into a pile of ruins.

Bai Zicong's eyes were a little gray, and the spirit of his whole body seemed to be drained.

With the collapse of the house, Bai Zicong felt that the pillar in his heart had also collapsed, and what he was once proud of was collapsing little by little.

Yanhuilou is the most upscale restaurant in Zhibei County, perhaps because of the good name, there are many repeat customers every day, forming Yanhui.

Zhibei County Inspector Hu Tingyu's face was red, and he sat in the lobby with a golden knife, and there were marinated beef, roast chicken, and a few plates of side dishes on the table in front of him.