"It's like a comic strip," Meng Chenjun said.
"It's better than comic strips." Meng Chencheng said, "He sang very well."
The little girl is a person who is born to sing, and naturally she can feel the beauty of folk art music from her heart.
Meng Chenjun looked at his sister Xiaowu. At this time, he always felt that he and his sister seemed to be far apart. His sister seemed to be standing on the stage in front.
Zhu Lingling couldn't hear what the uncle was singing. The uncle's voice was too strong when he sang the lyrics, with a serious accent. The only thing she could hear was the uncle's tone. So she could only admire the little girl like Meng Chenjun. The little girl could even appreciate the level they couldn't appreciate.
The opera is definitely good. When the master sang it in the middle of rest, the crowds in the audience clapped their palms, and the applause was thunderous.
Grandpa Xiangxiang yelled, "Sing well!"
It can be seen that Grandpa Xiangxiang knows how to appreciate this thing. Grandma Xiaogu curled her lips. When it comes to this rapist, she also watched it when she was young. In the 1950s, a storm of rapist was blowing everywhere in the country, and those who performed new films and new songs after the founding of the People's Republic of China were probably the rapist that Xiangxiang had watched it like her in that special period.
Ning Yunxi stood beside her son, watching her son staring at the performance ahead, and asked, "Can you understand?"
Leilei turned his head and nodded to his mother to "draw."
At best, this kid can only see the simplest things in the paintings on the box, such as mountains, water, portraits, etc.
"You like to draw." Ning Yunxi smiled and teased her son, "But you didn't draw well."
My mother was bad, and she actually said in front of her that he was incompetent in painting. In response, Leilei emphasized to her mother, "I'm very good at painting circles now. The second uncle taught me."
Meng Chenyi sweated and didn't know how to tell his nephew that what he taught was not called painting art.
"I'll take you to see what a real painter is later." Ning Yunxi said to his son, "Stop thinking that you are drawing circles."
It’s one thing that my son is good at science, but artistic influence also requires training. It’s not said that he only knows mathematics and doesn’t understand anything else. Like Lao Er, he is still a fan of martial arts novels.
After watching the movie, the children walked along the way and discussed the performance just now. The things sang by the masters were not understood by the children, and the things on the box seemed to be in comic strips that turned into the children's relish.
Zhu Lingling and Meng Chenjun argued about what was painted on a painting on the box.
"The one who painted it was the lake. I know it was the lake in our hometown." Meng Chenjun said.
"No. There is no bridge on the lake in our hometown. I guess it is the Lugou Bridge written in the text." Zhu Lingling pointed out.
"Ask grandpa." Meng Chenjun suggested. I only knew that when the performance was just now, Grandpa Xiangxiang shouted, "It should be understood."
Grandpa Xiangxiang saw that their two children were looking over and sweating. In fact, he couldn't understand it. He praised because he thought that the master sang well. Folk art is called art, which is really not something that ordinary people can understand. Most people applaud it because of Grandpa Xiangxiang's mentality. It is difficult for you to watch a movie and ask an ordinary person to write a movie review, right?
Chapter completed!