Xuanwu's thirty-eighth year had nothing to do with Ye Zhenzhen. She just spent a year in the delivery room in a daze.
It didn't matter that she was bored in the delivery room, but she felt pity for Cui Zhiduan, who was obediently accompanying her mother and sister every day. On the Lantern Festival, Ye Zhenzhen asked her uncle Ye Dailin to take Cui Zhiduan and Cui Zhiming out for fun.
Of course, guards must be sent to protect them.
Children are playful by nature. Cui Zhiduan still had some fun after he came back. He excitedly talked to Ye Zhenzhen about the lanterns, dragons and juggling on the street...
Cui Zhiduan, who is already six years old, has greatly improved his expressive ability, and his vocabulary is even richer under elite education. Therefore, when he describes the scene of the Lantern Festival, he is very vivid. Even if Ye Zhenzhen cannot go out, she feels as if she is immersed in the scene.
It's so lively and festive.
Ye Zhenzhen suddenly had a bad taste: "Since you still haven't finished what you want, then write a 500-word essay and give it to Master Zhou for review after you finish it."
Writing essays is a nightmare for many students!
One for weekly diaries, another for holidays, another for traveling...don't worry about big or small things happening, just write a composition!
The mother was bored, so she tormented her son vigorously.
The expected embarrassment and wailing did not appear, but Cui Zhiduan looked eager to try: "Fortunately, my mother reminded me that I should record it in writing. Not only to show Master Zhou, but also to my father. When I learn to write poems
Now, I have to write poems like my father to clarify my aspirations."
Ye Zhenzhen: "..."
Yes, how could she forget that her son is a top student in elementary school? Are top students afraid of writing essays? Are you kidding me?
His father, a top student, was also a god of learning. Even when he went to Mingzhou to control floods, he never forgot to write poems. Of course, these poems were sent back. From the perspective of Ye Zhenzhen’s years of education in her previous life, they were enough to be included in Chinese textbooks and be required to recite them.
Good poetry to analyze.
With his father, the god of learning, as an example, Cui Zhiduan might not be too generous in the future.
I just hope they can write less in the future, leaving a way for future generations of scumbags to survive.
The primary school bully was eager to give it a try, and had the urge to go back to his room and stay up all night to fight. Ye Zhenzhen immediately gave him a look: "You are not allowed to stay up late and write. You cannot write or read at night, otherwise it will be easy to get dazzled. Zhi Ming, you watch him."
Cui Zhiming nodded immediately: "Auntie, don't worry, I will keep a close eye on my brother."
Cui Zhiduan glanced at them sadly: "Inspiration is fleeting, and if I write tomorrow, it will definitely not be as good as what I write now."
"That means your foundation is not solid enough."
Ye Zhenzhen ruthlessly refuted his sophistry, like an unreasonable illiterate: "Works that can be passed down through the ages rely not only on inspiration, but also on continuous practice and accumulation. Just like your father, neither
He just relies on inspiration to write poems. He reads and practices every day, and you can see it."
Cui Zhiduan listened to the instruction with sincerity: "Mother, I understand."
Ye Zhenzhen was satisfied: "Okay, it's getting late, you go back to your room and rest."
"Where's my sister? We want to see her."
"My sister has already fallen asleep. Please keep your voice down so as not to wake her up."
Cui Zhiduan and Cui Zhiming nodded in agreement and tiptoed to Nuange. They were fascinated by their sister for a long time. After a long time, Mr. Hu spoke to urge them, and then they reluctantly left.
The next day, Cui Zhiduan rarely stayed in his sister's room after school and refused to leave. He just said hello to his sister in a hurry and went to the study. About half an hour later, he took a piece of paper with still wet ink.
Rice paper came to the delivery room.
"Mother, mother, look, I've written it."
"Don't be anxious, take a breath first." Ye Zhenzhen patted his back: "Be careful of arrogance and impetuosity. It's a good thing your father is not here, otherwise he will have to lecture you again."
Cui Zhiduan stuck out his tongue and calmed his breathing before handing the rice paper to his mother again: "Mother, take a look."
Ye Zhenzhen took a look at the rice paper, and the first thing she noticed was his handwriting. This child learned to write when he was three years old, and it has been three years now. Because of his age, his writing is not very good, but it is neat and sharp.
With horns, at least he is much better than Ye Zhenzhen, who is just learning calligraphy.
"Very good. It seems that you haven't missed your calligraphy practice these days. Your father will be very happy to know."
Ye Zhenzhen did not hesitate to praise him. When Cui Zhiduan raised his mouth and looked at her with bright eyes, Ye Zhenzhen's heart softened and she couldn't help but stretched out her hand to pinch his head and kissed him again, which made her son embarrassed.
His face turned red before he continued to read the composition in his hand.
After reading it all, Ye Zhenzhen was very surprised.
She thought that at the age of six, her son could write a smooth article. As for the word count of 500, it was just a joke. She did not think that her son could write so many words.
But she never expected that this article was beyond her expectation.
What is the level of this article? For example, it is almost the same as those full-scoring college entrance examination essays written in classical Chinese in later generations.
Although his choice of words, sentences, and expression of thoughts are still immature, there is also innocence and romance between the lines that belong to his age, which is something that even the best romantic poets cannot match.
Li He was able to write poems at the age of six, and Gan Luo was a prime minister at the age of twelve... There were many prodigies in ancient times. Ye Zhenzhen used to only listen to them as stories, but now she found that her son was also a living prodigy, and suddenly she felt like a dimensional wall
The broken dream made it difficult to accept this fact for a while.
This kid is playful, delicious, and loves to act coquettishly. How could he be a child prodigy?
Although she was a college student in later generations, to the literati of the Zhou Dynasty, she was just a prodigy. How could He De have such a prodigy son?
Is she worthy?
Cui Weizhen, who is far away in Mingzhou: "...I am worthy."
Cui Zhiduan saw that his mother was just looking at him in a daze and did not say a word about his article. He was unsure and asked hesitantly: "Mom, am I not good at writing?"
Ye Zhenzhen woke up from a dream: "It was very well written. My mother-in-law was shocked. I couldn't believe it was written by you. It turns out that my precious son is a young genius."
Cui Zhiduan blushed with embarrassment and looked at her with anticipation and excitement: "Really? I think this article is far behind my father's literary talent."
"Silly boy, you are only six years old, how can you compare with your father now? When you are as old as your father, you will definitely write poems as good as your father."
"Really?"
Cui Zhiduan was a little unsure, but more of an expectant person: "Can I be as powerful as dad in the future?"
"Maybe he's even better than dad." Ye Zhenzhen boasted without any burden.
Cui Zhiduan's dark eyes suddenly shone like stars. From this moment on, a seed took root and sprouted deeply in his heart, waiting only for the day it would grow into a towering tree.