Feng Qi laid out the paper, picked up the pen and dipped it in ink, then turned her head to look at Zhuo Ye.
Climbing a mountain? Zhuo Ye lowered his head and thought for a while, then coughed and chanted: "Up, up, and up."
Feng Qi was stunned when she heard this and looked at Zhuo Ye in astonishment, but did not write down.
"Write!" Zhuo Ye said.
"Oh." Feng Qi nodded and started writing.
Feng Qi's calligraphy was elegant and graceful, just like his person. Zhuo Ye couldn't help but nodded secretly. Although she didn't know calligraphy, she could tell that the calligraphy was extremely beautiful.
"Up to the high mountain." Zhuo Ye continued to read.
Feng San on the side couldn't help but raise his eyebrows when he heard this.
The corners of Feng Qi's mouth twitched again and again, and she continued to write without knowing whether to laugh or cry.
Qingzhu couldn't help but burst into laughter and secretly disdained: "Is this considered poetry? I can do better than this!"
Zhuo Ye knew what they were thinking by looking at their expressions, and didn't take it seriously. He raised his eyes and glanced at the setting sun on the horizon, then looked at the mountains in the distance, and read out the last two sentences: "Raise your heads."
The red sun is low in the clouds, and you can see the mountains and rivers thousands of miles away."
Feng Qi raised her head and looked at Zhuo Ye in surprise: "What a poem! Although the first two sentences are as plain as water, the last two sentences are majestic! I'm afraid Ran Wenzhi will really lose to you!" He said swish and swish.
The last two sentences were written on the paper, signed with Zhuo Ye's name, and ordered Qingzhu to be sent to the pavilion.
There was a flash of light in Feng San's eyes, but it quickly disappeared. He picked up the tea cup and sipped the tea.
Zhuo Ye had a calm expression on his face, but secretly confessed in his heart: "I'm sorry, Brother Bohu, I'm sure you won't mind using your poems to make a little money... But it doesn't matter if you mind, you can still make some money from your poems..."
It won’t be possible to pass through tomorrow morning…”
After Zhuo Ye's poem was presented, several judges were either surprised or excited, with different expressions. After the poem was hung up, the person in charge of reading the poem read it aloud. Suddenly, there was silence all around. After a long while, some students sighed.
They read it repeatedly, savoring the meaning of the poem carefully. Some people whispered in low voices, guessing who Zhuo Ye was...
Liu Yuanming, the prefect in the pavilion, suddenly said loudly: "Excuse me, who is Mr. Zhuo Yezhuo?"
Hearing this, Zhuo Ye stood up and saluted: "I, Zhuo Ye, have met your Excellency."
Everyone looked sideways, and they all realized that he was one of the three outstanding young masters. They didn't expect that he had such literary talent...
Liu Yuanming looked at Zhuo Ye and nodded, and then said: "Zhuo Gongzi's "Mountain Climbing" is indeed better in artistic conception than the one written by Ran Gongzi, but Mr. Zhuo was not involved in the previous poem title, so it is decided as the second one.
One person seems a bit unfair, why don't I propose another question, with one stick of incense as the time limit, and ask two young masters to write poems, and the one with the best work will win, what do the two young masters and the judges think?"
The judges nodded in agreement, and Zhuo Ye and Ran Wenzhi also expressed no objections.
After Liu Yuanming pondered for a moment, he pointed to the green grass on the ground outside the pavilion and said, "Let's take this "Grass" as the title."
Feng Qi picked up her pen, looked at Zhuo Ye and smiled, waiting for her to speak.
Zhuo Ye thought for a moment and said: "Grass."
Feng Qi waited for a while, but saw no further words from Zhuo Ye. He couldn't help but look up at her in confusion. Seeing her signaling him to write, she just wrote the word "草" on the paper.
"Change a line and write 'Zhe Yi, optimistic about it.'" Zhuo Ye said again.
Feng Qi paused in his hand, raised his head and glanced at Zhuo Ye again, then lowered his head and continued writing.
"Change another line..."
…
The more Feng Qi wrote, the more surprised she became.
Feng San's face remained expressionless, but she held a piece of pastry in her hand and didn't put it in her mouth for a long time.
Finally, Feng Qi wrote the poem according to Zhuo Ye's request, signed it and gave it to Qingzhu.
Qingzhu didn't quite understand the poem, but from the look on his young master's face, he knew it was excellent. Although he was unwilling to accept it, he had to look at Zhuo Ye with admiration. He took the poem and presented it to the pavilion.
At this time, Ran Wenzhi's poem had not yet been completed, so the scribe in charge of reading read out Zhuo Ye's poem first:
"Grass.
Good luck, optimistic.
It grows all over the ground and makes people grow old.
Golden palaces and jade bricks, ancient roads in a deserted city.
The green color is thousands of miles away, and I feel sad that spring is early.
Whenever the north and the south part, the east and west fall.
I am a native of the mountains, and I am in the arms of Wang Sunwei."
It turned out to be a wonderful pagoda poem! As soon as this poem came out, everyone was shocked! Ran Wenzhi tore up the half-written poem on the table and said in a trembling voice: "I lost..." His face was full of blood