"Well, the sadness of this poem goes straight into my heart when I read it. Wang Can is now at Liu Biao's residence in Jiangdong. Although no more good works have been published, with this poem of seven sorrows, he is worthy of the name of a famous scholar!"
"My wish is for all people in the world to be happy, so please work hard!"
Boss Cao is a sentimental person at heart. Although the history books do show the stain of massacre, it was because of his rage that his family members died!
At this time, when I first heard such a sad poem, the joy on my face had long since disappeared, and my eyebrows were filled with sadness.
"We are willing to serve Duke Ming!"
On the top of the mountain, everyone bowed together in response to the Lord's words. Xun Yu's eyes lit up and he took a few steps to stand up.
"My lord, in my opinion, the Seven Sorrows Poems are only half as good as my Lord Songli Xing. The white bones are exposed in the wild and there are no roosters crowing for thousands of miles! The color of sadness is probably the same as the Seven Sorrows Poems, and the high-spirited spirit in it
Nothing can compare to Wang Can!"
After Xun Yu spoke a few words, Cao Cao flicked his beard, nodded repeatedly, and showed a little satisfaction on his face.
"It's Wen Ruo who can see the spirit of my poems. It's rare, it's rare!"
Xun Wenruo was, after all, the leader of Yingchuan scholars, and he scratched Cao Cao's itch the most.
Fang Guang on the side, the word "flattery" flashed in his mind, but he just smiled and said nothing.
"Datong, you can write such beautiful poems on the relationship between men and women. I think you must have taught me a lot, Madam!"
"After all, she is a talented woman who is famous all over the world! I just don't know that her words of concern for the country and the people, Datong, may make me shine!"
There was a vague barb in Xun Yu's words, implying that Fang Guang's poems were his wife's professor.
Fang Guang was too lazy to pay attention to him, raised his head to look at the mountains in the distance, and spoke slowly.
"The carriages are rolling, the horses are rustling, the pedestrians are carrying bows and arrows at their waists, the father-in-law and the wife are walking to see each other off, and there is no Xianyang Bridge in Chang'an!"
"Don't you see, by the Wei River, there are ancient bones that no one has collected?"
This poem was written hundreds of years later by Du Fu, a great poet of the tragic school, and it is very long.
It's just that at this time, on the top of the mountain, among the leading scribes in Cao Ying, as well as the later generation Wei Wu, no one disliked Fang Guang's wordiness.
Everyone was immersed in Fang Guang's revised poems. Even Sima Fang, a man with bottomless scheming in his heart, felt a sour and hot feeling in his chest, filling his chest.
After a long time, Cao Cao slowly spoke, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Datong, this poem was written by you? You were not born in Hebei. When you were young, you also went to Guanzhong Chang'an?"
"My lord, no, this poem is a ballad sung by an old soldier under my command when I was in the Yellow Turbans of Hebei Province. Because of its quaintness, it has been remembered in my heart!"
"My lord asked me to write a poem. I thought I was not that talented, so I suddenly thought of this song. I don't know if it's the right time?"
Fang Guang thought to himself that in today's limelight, it would be best to limit the exposure in moderation.
Otherwise, in the future, Cao Cao would position himself as a Yellow Turban poet and a literary youth in Hebei, which would be unsightly.
The reason why he frequently used good verses today was not to overwhelm everyone in Cao Ying with his poems and songs, but to hope that Cao Mengde would understand that time, literary talent, and time are not always in the hands of aristocratic families.
Sure enough, Cao Cao nodded slightly after listening to Fang Guang's words.
"There are such talents among the Yellow Turbans! Sigh, if Zhang Jiao is a first-rate person and can make good use of hidden heroes among the people, and the imperial court can quell the Yellow Turbans, it will take a lot of trouble!"
"Lord, after all, it is a ballad. It is the same as poetry, but there are some differences!"
After all, Xun You was a little unconvinced and interjected.
Cao Cao glanced at him and said, "Otherwise, poetry has been hidden in songs since the pre-Qin Dynasty!"
"The world's outstanding people also hide in the wilderness and mountains. I think the reason why Datong set up a school in Dong'a is to meet more talented people among the people!"
"I heard that in order to start a school, you sold all the bride's dowry at home?"
"Nonsense! Cai Yong and I have a master-disciple relationship. He entrusted his daughter to you. He originally wanted to enjoy peace and happiness, but can Cai Yan accompany you to endure hardships?"
"Well, I really can't come up with the money now. You are in charge of the Cangting farmland. This year, you will take 30% of the wheat and beans for yourself. Don't let anyone say that you have to pay for your wife's money to work for me, Cao Mengde!"
Cao Cao's words actually tacitly approved Fang Guang's establishment of a school. In his opinion, as long as Fang Guang did not use it to run a party and for personal gain, even if the quality of the school was not good, it was still good governance.
Now it seems that Guigu's lineage still has something outstanding.
The world is in chaos and Fang Guang is short of people. Why isn't he himself thirsty for talents?
The people in Hebei were all monopolized by Yuan Shao, while the scholars in Jiangnan all stuck to their homeland. It would be difficult for Fang Guang to teach him how to write and understand political strategy.
"Ming Gong, today the wise men under Ming Gong are discussing politics. Logically speaking, I, Chen Qun, are not the ones who can interrupt!"
"It's just that, I think, in addition to poetry and song, handling government affairs, tax collection, money and grain allocation, all need mathematics and science. Guigu's lineage has all the literary talents. If mathematics and science are not good, Ming Gong wants those who can only recite poetry.
What’s the use of such a person?”
Chen Qun, who came from Xuzhou, spoke to Cao Cao, but looked at Fang Guang with the slightest disdain in his eyes.
Since ancient times, Confucian scholars and scholars, in addition to writing, arithmetic, arrows, piano and chess, all have to be tested in the six arts. Naturally, it is difficult for ordinary people to have a full stomach. How can they be proficient in the six arts?
Chen Qun is going to bully Fang Guang today. He was born in Baiding, Hebei Province and is extremely talented. He is proficient in the six arts of poetry, which is difficult to achieve. How can he compare with the children of the aristocratic family in other crafts.
When Fang Guang heard the word arithmetic, he almost burst into laughter.
If the people in the world in front of me recite poems correctly, I will have to carry the masterpieces of future generations in order to suppress them!
Mathematics? This square-faced man actually wants to talk about mathematics with me?
Just throw out odd and even, and the multiplication table, and you can defeat this son of Da Honglu.
When Chen Qun saw Fang Guang's strange expression, he was heartbroken and thought he had caught Fang Guang's weakness.
Seeing everyone's astonishment, Chen Qun, who had a lot of knowledge about several ways because of his family background, smiled and picked up a wooden stick from the lush vegetation on the top of the mountain.
"This is a strange mathematical diagram that my clan obtained from a stranger in Guanzhong. It is said that the principles in it were passed down from Fuxi!"
"Mr. Datong, the Guigu lineage, no matter how remote it is, can't be compared with the ancient sages. I would like to ask Datong to explain this strange picture of Fuxi today."
As Chen Qun spoke, he held the wooden stick steady with one hand and connected the tip of the stick on the muddy ground on the top of the mountain. In an instant, a right triangle was drawn.
He got this picture from Zhou Bi Suan Jing. It is difficult for ordinary people in the world to know this book. Chen Qun relied on it, and Fang Guang would never have heard of it.
"This picture contains truth, Ming Gong. I am not the one to boldly criticize Ming Gong's actions. I am just talking about knowledge. I don't know!"
Chen Qun was still wordy, but Fang Guang had already found the wooden stick, walked to the pattern, and wrote the numbers three, four, and five on the three sides of the right triangle.