"Orihualang?" Han Rui only felt that his head was full of invisible black lines, I was still picking flower thieves, what was wrong, he actually gave himself this broken name, think about what Li Bai is, Qi Xian, Qinglian Layman, how loud and brilliant, how did he get here, it changed his taste.

The indignant Han Rui naturally didn't notice the suspicious expressions of others, and even if he knew, he wouldn't care, after all, this is also a fact, but he will only admit it in his heart, and he will definitely not reveal half a sentence on his lips.

Perhaps it was Han Rui's calm expression that made everyone overturn their suspicions, and someone couldn't help but ask: "Brother Yan, this is your disciple, why have you never seen it before." ”

Looking at Han Rui with complicated eyes, Master Yan shook his head slowly, and he was surprised again, he didn't expect that he was actually the author of the Folding Flower Yin, and it was no wonder that he could make a hand-me-down poem casually.

"No, then he ......" someone continued to ask, his tone a little skeptical.

"Haha, please listen to me chant a new song." The experienced Meng Dongming noticed that he was worried about arousing Han Rui's disgust, so he hurriedly interrupted and said with a loud smile: "...... Wet clothes want to wet the apricot blossom rain, blowing the face is not cold willow wind, what do you think? ”

After listening to the aftertaste, after a long time, someone finally sighed: "It is worthy of Mr. Meng to make such a quatrain with extraordinary artistic conception." ”

"Yes, it's a rare boutique, but it's a pity that it's not in harmony with music, otherwise I might have a different taste if I ask Miss Jiangzhen to play and sing." I don't know when I got the habit, people in the Tang Dynasty felt that singing poems was either good to chant and receive, but the poems were not the first to be sung, and it also depended on whether they were compatible with the music, which was very obvious, and this quatrain was not in line with the music, which made people feel quite sorry.

"Elder Meng, why don't you modify it again and make it harmonious."

"Nonsense, good sentences are natural, how can you change them if you say it."

Someone suggested that it might just be a joke, but it was immediately reprimanded by others, and everyone nodded in agreement, and they all felt that it was not appropriate to change it easily, so as not to destroy the charm of the original poem.

"What do you think of poetry?" Meng Dongming said with a smile.

"Of course, if such quatrains are not good, then there will be no good poems in the world." Some people said that there might be a little exaggeration and flattery, but others did not refute it and nodded yes.

"The apricot blossoms, like rain falling, seem to be more lovely; The spring breeze, which is dependent on the willows, is more interesting; The apricot blossom rain and the willow wind make the color of spring more intense and full of color, which makes people yearn for it. A master's head-shaking comment made everyone praise it.

"I think so too, this poem is wonderful, it's a work of hand-me-down." Meng Dongming said with a smile.

Everyone was stunned, not that they thought that Meng Dongming was wrong, but mainly that at this time, Meng Dongming would be humble when he received any praise, but how to publicize it now, it is simply the opposite of the spleen surname in the past, after all, literati, especially well-known Confucians, should pay attention to the so-called celebrity demeanor, observe etiquette and etiquette, be modest and modest, and will not be as unceremonious as Meng Dongming now.

"Why, don't you think so?" Meng Dongming said with a smile, and the corners of his mouth faintly shrugged.

"Yes, yes......" Everyone was stunned, and only half resounded before they responded.

Meng Dongming blinked and said, "Yes, or no, how can you listen confused." ”

"Brother Meng, it's enough." Master Yan shook his head and smiled bitterly: "Don't make fun of everyone anymore, this poem was not written by you, why deliberately mislead them." ”

Ah, everyone was amazed, and then they remembered that Meng Dongming's surname was witty, and he liked to laugh the most, obviously, just now, until now, he never said that the poem was his own work, but everyone thought so.

After a long time, it turned out to be teased, and everyone couldn't cry or laugh, but in an instant, there was one more question in their hearts, since the poem was not written by Meng Dongming, who was it?

Subconsciously, his eyes wandered around Meng Dongming, wandering on Master Yan, but he shook his head slightly, followed his instructions, and everyone looked, but next to him was Han Rui, who was looking down to watch the flowers and plants in the courtyard, for a while, it was difficult to describe everyone's current mood, but the suspicion that had just been ignited was like a cloud of smoke and disappeared in an instant.

Some people may think that it is just a poem, no big deal, but this is just jealousy, you must know that for thousands of years, so far, literati are like stars in the sky, countless, and there are very few who can leave their names in the history books, and most of the other people have quietly disappeared into the long river of history, leaving no trace of scales and half claws.

Nowadays, Han Rui can make future generations remember with only one quatrain, compared with those literati who have written many books and poems, but have no reputation, how can they not be admired and envied.

Eyes focused on Han Rui, everyone's expressions were complicated, if it was Yan Shiyou or Meng Dongming who wrote the poem, it would be fine, the two of them are today's famous Confucians, and they are over sixty years old, they don't know how many years they can live, they naturally take fame and fortune very lightly, but others may not, their spleens and surnames are different, and their mentality is naturally different.

The only thing that everyone has the same opinion is probably that Han Rui is not a thing in the pool, of course, having talent and potential does not mean that he will succeed, after all, there are so many talents in the world, there is no chance of luck, and it may not be possible to die in the countryside, so everyone just pays attention, remembering that there is such a person, as for the degree of attention, it depends on his future performance.

However, before that, it is indispensable to introduce yourself, and say a few words of praise as a senior, so that he can not be proud and complacent, and make persistent efforts, in this regard, Han Rui was modest, with a smile on his face, and agreed one by one, the scene was harmonious, and after chatting for a while, everyone dispersed, what should I do.

There are more than 20 people in the courtyard, and Jiang Zhen is a little familiar, Han Rui naturally followed him, came to the attic railing, Jiang Zhen knelt down softly, the posture was elegant and indescribable, a pair of tender white hands fell softly in front of the knee, the body was slender like a willow, the waist was like a vegetarian, the pink neck was slender and delicate, and the curves were extremely beautiful, no matter which direction you looked at, she was so beautiful, bright and moving.

His soft lips moved slightly, and Jiang Zhen smiled: "Congratulations to Han Langjun first." ”

"Where does the joy come from?" Han Rui was puzzled.

"After today, Han Langjun's name is afraid that it will resound throughout Yangzhou." Jiang Zhen smiled, her beautiful eyes were crooked, shining like a crescent moon in the night sky.

Han Rui smiled, took out a neatly folded scarf from his arms, and said softly: "Miss Jiangzhen, this is something that you accidentally left in the tavern, and the shopkeeper asked me to return it to you." ”

Stretching out his hand lightly, the slight fragrance floats in the clouds, Jiang Zhen picked up the corner of the scarf, and his eyebrows were more gloomy, and he whispered thanks, and said quietly: "There are beautiful women in the south, and they are as beautiful as peaches and plums." Towards the north bank of the river, stay in Xiaoxianglan at night. The vulgar is thin and beautiful, who is the hair and teeth? Pitching the years is approaching, and glory is difficult to last long. ”

I vaguely remember that this miscellaneous poem by Cao Zhi is the one that Wang Yingluo sang when he played the piano and Jiang Zhenhe, Han Rui sighed lightly, it seems that Qian Feng really has no chance.

"Abominable ......"

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