"Brush, brush, brush!" Countless eyes shot at Fan Xian's body, he smiled shyly, arched his hand, and did not tie a flower turban to pretend to be an artist, after all, he was Fan Xian, not Fan Wei.

Shizi looked at him like this, and almost laughed, he wouldn't believe what Miss Fan said, a ten-year-old boy may really be able to write good poems, but like this kind of careful and measured poems, he shouldn't be able to write, he estimated that Fan Xian wrote it last night, and he deliberately let Fan Ruoruo take it out today, so that it was amazing at the poetry meeting.

He didn't dislike these, but found it a little interesting, a character like Fan Xian, who looked very free and easy, would actually write this kind of poem. Fan Xian didn't know what King Jing was thinking, he only knew that this poem by Meng Haoran in his previous life was still a little higher than the level of these people in the field, so he was very satisfied, at least it satisfied his father's explanation.

Guo Baokun looked at the eyes of everyone in the audience, his heart was furious, he never thought that this "embroidered pillow" actually had such a life-saving poem, he refused to give up, and said with a sneer: "I don't know what other good story Brother Fan has? After all, this is you...... A masterpiece at the age of ten. ”

The meaning of the words is obviously not to believe that the poem was written by himself.

Fan Xian sighed in his heart, thinking to himself why there are always people who like to force themselves to do these things? Speaking of composing poems and lyrics, who else in this world will be his opponent? After all, he is a monster possessed by the three gods of Li Dusu and blessed by 5,000 years of poetry, and he replied with a smile: "I have never done proposition composition. ”

Guo Baokun saw that he had a fearless appearance, gritted his teeth and said: "Then please Brother Fan feel free to take the lead, so that all the talents in Kyoto can also see and understand." ”

Fan Xian frowned, glanced at this annoying guy coldly, then dropped a poem, got up and left the garden, and under the leadership of the people of the palace, went to the toilet.

As soon as this poem came out, there was a sound on the ground, and the whole garden was shocked, falling flowers and flowing water, sweeping thousands of troops.

After a burst of applause, everyone tasted the taste, Guo Baokun's face was also blue and white, and he didn't know what to say. At this time, the prince could no longer care about how to hold the fan in his hand so as not to fall into Fan Xian's comments, so he closed the fan with a snap and chanted:

"The wind is urgent, the sky is high, the ape is howling, and the white bird flies back. Boundless falling trees and Xiao Xiaoxiao, endless rivers rolling. He is often a guest in the sad autumn, and he has been on stage alone for more than a hundred years. Hardship, bitterness, hatred, frost and sideburns, pouring down a new turbid wine glass. ”

......

......

"Sad, clear, boundless, endless, thousands of miles, autumn, guest, a hundred years, sickness, loneliness, eternal sorrow, all in a glass of turbid wine! Good poetry, good poetry!" The son of the world praised loudly, and suddenly thought of his father, who looked leisurely on the outside, but was actually depressed in his heart, somehow, his heart was sour, and he shook his head speechlessly for a long time.

It was only after a long time that he came to his senses, you Fan Xian is young, although you have a miserable background, how can you say that Xue Xian is sick? This is really incomprehensible, it doesn't make sense at all. But everyone is still immersed in the atmosphere of the poem, watching the sunset, whether it is a master or a poor family, there is a little sense of impermanence in life and sadness. Therefore, everyone inadvertently completely forgot that Fan Xian's life experience was not in harmony with the heaviness in this poem.

No one suspects that it was ghostwritten by others, after all, this poem is categorically impossible for everyone to do if it is not a generation of poets, and if it is a generation, they are not willing to do it for the Son of Heaven, let alone a small child of the Fan family.

"With this poem, it doesn't matter if Fan Gongzi doesn't write poems in the future. King Jing sighed. The talents by the lake were silent, knowing that they would never be able to make a better sentence today, so the whole poetry club fell into silence because of Fan Xian's poem, but they didn't realize that the author had already slipped away.

―――――――――――――――――――――――――

In fact, this poem is not suitable for the scene and is not timely, but Fan Xian was really anxious, so he hurriedly memorized a poem to fight the enemy. was anxious, on the one hand, he was anxious by the little bastard named Guo Baokun, and on the other hand, he was really anxious, he was bored before, and drank a little more.

Carrying his trousers out of the hut, he sighed very comfortably, fastened his trouser belt, took the towel from the hand of the servant, and wiped his hands. On the way back, he suddenly saw a nursery growing very pleasantly, with tender green leaves and broken flowers, under the tall trees, in the twilight, revealing a burst of vitality.

Fan Xian turned around and asked the next person, if he could go shopping. Of course, the subordinates knew that this was the uncle of the Fan Mansion, and the young lady of the Fan family and the young master Si Zhe had always walked around the palace at will, so naturally they would not say a word, and replied respectfully, there is no problem.

Fan Xian was a little happy, sent his subordinates away, walked into the nursery by himself, watched at random, and found that there were no strange flowers and plants that ordinary big families liked, but many plants that he couldn't name, and they looked very clumsy, and they should be some wild vegetables or crops.

He was a little curious, this King Jing's family was really different, and he actually planted such things.

Walking in the garden at will, the sky is actually still very bright, but there are trees overhead, so it seems relatively quiet, you can hear the cheerful chirping of birds overhead when they return to the nest, and the surroundings are full of green and green colors, which is very comfortable. Fan Xian was able to get rid of the very boring poetry meeting, felt happy, hummed a little song and walked deeply, and thought with a smile as he walked: "It won't be like Duan Yu, I will meet a fairy sister, right?"

"Who are you?"

A person stood up from the bushes and looked at Fan Xian curiously.

......

......

Fan Xian was startled, thinking that with his own ear power, he actually came so close to find the other party, if the other party was a killer, then he must be finished, and then he found that after entering Beijing, his vigilance seemed to have decreased a lot.

He looked at the man in front of him and laughed at himself.

Of course, the other party can't be Wang Yuyan, and it can't be the woman in white that he can't forget, but a flower farmer in his forties and fifties, holding a hoe in his hand, a mud basket at his feet, his face is upright, and the look in his eyes is slightly flustered.

Fan Xian smiled slightly, bowed to the flower farmer and said: "Shocked old man, I am a guest of the palace, I came here by the way, and I saw that this garden was very well tied, so I took a look." ”

The old flower farmer wiped his hand twice on his clothes, as if he did not know how to salute, and laughed a little heartily when he heard him praise the garden for being well tied.

(The poetry meeting ends here, and it may not feel exciting enough, but if there are too many branches, there will be a suspicion of dragging the manuscript and injecting water, so so be it, of course, the aftermath is later.) ）