Chapter 434: Waste the Flower Heart Big Radish 20

Front yard, main hall.

From time to time, the coals in the brazier sparked and made a crisp crackling sound.

The warm wine exudes a faint aroma, and the faces of the men and women at the banquet are flushed.

Fu Jialiang looked around, pretending to postpone it, but reluctantly composing a poem for him.

Fu Jialiang pushed away the two beautiful women beside him and walked down from the main seat.

Taking the first step, Fu Jialiang's eyes came to his senses and he said, "One piece, two pieces, three or four pieces." ”

When everyone heard this, they were immediately stunned, is the next sentence five, six, seven, eight or ninety pieces?

Everyone laughed softly, the joke was himself, Fu Jialiang was talented, and the poems and articles from his hands were all masterpieces and famous sentences.

Fu Jialiang took a step forward, and there was a voice in his mouth, "Five, six, seven, eight, ninety, and ten." ”

With a click, the chopsticks of the person with a dull expression fell to the ground.

Unexpectedly, it turned out to be really five, six, seven, eighty or ninety pieces!

How could Fu Jialiang be so ordinary?

Compared to his previous poems, this poem can be called unbearable!

Could it be that Fu Jialiang Jianglang is exhausted, or is he doing it on purpose?

Everyone stared at Fu Jialiang for a moment, and their hearts slowly rose to their throats.

Fu Jialiang walked to the center of the living room, enjoying the attention of others from all directions.

Fu Jialiang said the third sentence slowly and properly, "Thousands of pieces, countless pieces." ”

Fu Jialiang's third sentence still disappointed everyone.

"Master Hou, if you don't want to write a poem, you can just say it, why do you need to do this?"

"Master Hou, don't you look down on me and wait for me to have no merit and fame, and do it on purpose?"

"Master Hou, please don't laugh."

Some of the young scholars were indignant and got up to leave.

"Don't worry, listen to my last sentence." Fu Jialiang said unhurriedly, "This last sentence is, flying into the plum blossom is always gone." ”

One piece, two pieces, three or four pieces, five, six, seven, eight, ninety, and ten.

Thousands of pieces of countless pieces, flying into the plum blossoms are always gone.

Everyone read it carefully, their frowning brows gradually relaxed, and their faces showed a look of intoxication and satisfaction.

"Hou Ye is worthy of being Hou Ye, worthy of the title of poet immortal."

"The first three sentences of this poem seem to be plain and bland, but the fourth sentence at the end has the finishing touch, the virtual and the real are contrasted, and the movement and stillness are appropriate, which immediately sublimates the poem."

"From one to two, from ten to hundred, from thousands to thousands, and even innumerable, layer by layer, without the slightest sense of burden, everything is natural, as if you are in the vast world of heavy snow, but seeing a cut of Hanmei's legacy is independent, fighting snow and spitting out beauty, Ling Han lingers fragrant, from which you can also see the temperament and character of the Hou Ye."

Everyone read it, and the sound of praise was like a tide, easily drowning Fu Jialiang.

Fu Jialiang's expression was indifferent, with a detached attitude of not liking things and not being sad about himself.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's analyze my poetry of Yongxue."

Before the person arrives, the sound comes first.

"Thousands of mountains and birds fly away, and thousands of people disappear. Lonely boat, fishing alone in the cold river and snow. ”

The main hall was silent, and then a heated discussion erupted.

"Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful! It's wonderful! ”

"In just two crosses, it depicts a quiet and cold picture: on the day when the snowflakes are flying, an old fisherman is fishing alone in the cold river in a small boat, the sky and the earth are snow-white, lonely and cold, which is sighing."

"The snow is flying, thousands of mountains and paths, people and birds are extinct, and the cold scenery of the mountains and wilderness can't help but come to mind °C Weng Hanjiang fishing alone, the sky is cold and the ground is frozen, and he feels lonely, but even so, the fisherman is high and arrogant, and he is indomitable."

A group of literati shook their heads and tasted the beauty of "Jiang Xue".

Fu Jialiang on the main seat was dumbfounded, with a frightened expression.

""Jiang Xue", that is Liu Zongyuan's "Jiang Xue", ⊙ in this world, besides me, are there other traversers?"

Fu Jialiang's eyes flashed fiercely, and he looked straight at the door.

Whoever comes after him, he will do whatever it takes to get rid of him.

Happy Mid-Autumn Festival!!

(End of chapter)

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