Although the carriage is not far from Selangor City, the snow on the road has greatly reduced the speed of the carriage.

It can't even reach the footsteps of the people stepping on the snow.

In the distance, it is a tributary of Yunlong Lake, Fangting River, and there is a small boat parked on the river, and a young man can be seen on the boat, holding a fishing rod, as if he is fishing.

More closely, there is the farmland, which has been fallow in the winter, covered in a silvery coat, waiting for the awakening of spring.

This is the view that Azusa You saw after opening the window of the carriage.

"Thousands of mountains and birds fly away, thousands of paths and people disappear, lonely boats, fishing alone in the cold river and snow."

With a snap of his fingers, Ziyou chanted.

As soon as these words came out, the old man Shen's eyes suddenly lit up, and he clapped his hands again and again. "What a lonely boat, fishing alone in the cold river and snow, the picture of this poem seems to jump in front of the decayed, the beauty of the real artistic conception, I am afraid that such a small landscape poem, even if it is the most famous painter of the Hong Dynasty, it is difficult to depict the rhyme, it is simply amazing, compared with the previous poem, it is really more than that!"

"This one fits your requirements." Ziyou said with a smile.

"Yes, yes!" Old man Shen hurriedly said, and at the same time looked at Ziyou with a resentful look. "Your talent is really rare in the world, such a poem will surely be passed down through the ages, it's a pity, it's a pity."

Old man Shen said twice a pity, if you want to say that Bai Xue song, Ziyou only made it by inspiration, then this song is enough to see how demonic Ziyou's literary thoughts are.

Old man Shen really regretted that he promised Ziyou to let him go after reciting three poems, there was no way, Shen Mengxi was not interested in this marriage, and Old Man Shen finally took into account Shen Mengxi's feelings.

But he couldn't understand why Ziyou was so talented, why Mengxi was not happy, and Mengxi was so beautiful. Why isn't Ziyou excited?

Isn't it the best combination of talented and beautiful women, are the two of them sick? Old man Shen said degradedly.

Youngster...... Incomprehensible.

"Through the ages, perhaps." Azusa said casually. "Old man, do you also want to live through the ages, this is very simple, this poem was written by me, then I have the right to name it, then this poem is called (Jiang Xue's poem to Old Man Shen)"

Old man Shen's eyes suddenly lit up. "That's good, that's good. The old man's name is Shen Zengyi, and it would be good if the old man Shen was changed to Shen Zengyi, which is really good. In this way, future generations will be able to remember the name of the old man, Ziyou, you gave me such a poem, and I will not treat you badly, or I will marry my granddaughter to you, haha. ”

Ziyou's face darkened.

"Just kidding, kidding." Old man Shen said. "This is the first one, and the other two can be taken slowly to brew a good poem."

The two poems in a row are quatrains that are enough to pass on to future generations. Although Old Man Shen has regarded Ziyou as a great writer full of wealth, he doesn't think that Ziyou can continue to write a good poem casually.

It's just that this may really disappoint him, in order to go back to see Yiyi earlier. Ziyou can't wait to read it in one go.

But in order to set off the artistic conception, Ziyou deliberately slowed down the pace.

Ziyou looked at the snow in the farmland, and remembered another poem. "With so much snow falling this year, it will definitely be another bumper harvest year next year."

"That's it. Ruixue is a good year. ”

Ziyou nodded, and read the second poem.

Ruixue Zhaofeng year,

What about a good year?

There are poor people in Chang'an.

It should not be too much.

This is a satirical poem, the snow is a good year, but the harvest year is not good news for the people, the harvest is abundant, and the ruling class exploits more.

In the end, it was not even a normal year, but there were also some other forced labor, and so on.

Therefore, the so-called people are looking forward to a good harvest, and they are all.

It is all the imagination of the ruling class itself, and the people must be happy when the harvest comes, and only the landlords and above are happy.

It is impossible for a person who has not been a common man to understand the sufferings of the people.

Ziyou casually recited such a small poem, and it was also played by the snow, but after reading it, he felt that something was not right.

Old man Shen thought silently, these Ziyou didn't care, but ...... The strange thing is that Shen Mengxi actually raised a pair of fiery beautiful eyes to look at Ziyou after hearing this little poem by Ziyou.

It's as if I'm going to eat Azusa!

"Beauty, what are you going to do?" Azusa lost her voice.

Hearing the title of beauty, Shen Mengxi frowned slightly, as if he remembered something, and dispelled it again.

The previous poem seemed to have touched a certain nerve in her, so much so that she couldn't wait to ask Ziyou. "Sir, do you also think that the people are miserable?"

Ziyou slapped his hand on his face at that time, and suddenly remembered that Shen Mengxi was a girl who was committed to charity, helping beggars and opening a private school of hope, which was evident.

Shen Mengxi's return from distraction is not a good thing.

"No, I think the people are living very well, under the light of my great Hong Guowei, the people live and work in peace and contentment, and live a prosperous life, there is nothing better than this." Ziyou said casually,

Shen Mengxi is a philanthropist, and in order to avoid any intersection with him, Ziyou immediately changed his words, otherwise he would talk too much, and his plan to escape from the Shen family would be ruined again.

Shen Mengxi shook his head. "But, sir, your poem is clearly sympathetic to the plight of the poor. There are poor people in Chang'an, and it is not appropriate to have more for Rui, which is clearly saying that it is difficult for the people to live a good life even if they encounter a good harvest year. ”

"Sir, although Mengxi was born in a wealthy family, he really can't look down on other people living in dire straits, and I always think about the same people, why some people have fine clothes and food, and some people can't even eat a full meal, Mengxi remembers it deeply."

"How I hope that one day, everyone will no longer worry about their livelihoods, and everyone will be able to live and work in peace and contentment, without stealing or cheating."

Ziyou never expected that such a poem would open Shen Mengxi's words clip. "It's not just my dream, it's also the dream of my dad and my mom."

"Listening to Mr.'s poems today, listening to Mr.'s feelings, Mengxi privately thinks that Mr. must have the same idea as Mengxi."

"After all, one person's power is limited, so Mr. can work with Mengxi for the well-being of the people of Selangor, as long as everyone works together, even the world will be a paradise."

Ziyou listened to Shen Mengxi with a strange face and said such a big list, this is an idealistic society, even modern society cannot eliminate the gap between the rich and the poor.

Not to mention now, her dream is too advanced, and Ziyou will not do such a self-sacrificing thing.

was about to refuse at the moment, but suddenly the old man Shen stretched out his smiling face and said meaningfully. "Mengxi, don't you want to get married now?"

Shen Mengxi lowered his head slightly, his face slightly red. "Family affairs should be decided by the elders, Mengxi is all up to grandpa and aunt to decide, but if the husband is also a person who laments the suffering of the people like Mengxi, it is also a good thing."

"Good!" Old man Shen clapped his hands and laughed. "Son-in-law, don't be sad, Mengxi can be regarded as agreeing to this family matter, so you don't have to read the last poem, let's go back to the Shen family with us to get married."

Ziyou had already lowered his head, covered his face, and didn't say a word, thinking in his heart, why did he remember to read that poem, isn't this death.

Playing poetry and playing with it, hitting the muzzle of the gun.

Is this fate? (To be continued.) )