Yu Jun

Chapter 182
Cheng Ting used his brains and thought that the person who stole Wu Jin's daily record was a wicked person who distorted the poetry.

Then he poured out a series of wicked people he knew, and finally thought that there were quite a few such people in Kuanzhou City, and the only ones who had a grudge against Wu Jin were the bastard and his son.

He looked at Wu Jin again, and looked at Wu Jin from head to toe—this is a gentleman with both literary quality and internal and external cultivation, but the problem also lies here.

If he—he is a well-known evil and rebellious son in Kuanzhou, writes a poem like this, his parents will probably cry with joy, thinking that he will eventually improve in the class of essays.

But he couldn't write it, only Wu Jin could write it.

Wu Jin is too upright, too upright, and too magnanimous. Seeing him, the images that pop up in his mind are bamboo and jade trees, a bright moon and a clear breeze. Any stain is enough to make him a hypocrite that everyone despises.

"Tomorrow is the Wenhui." He rubbed his chin. "No wonder the dead toad is so calm today. It turns out that he secretly made dirty tricks and planned to ruin your reputation tomorrow."

He pondered for a long time in silence, thinking that this matter could also be resolved: "I'm afraid it won't work if you don't admit Kong. If they correct the handwriting at that time, it will appear that we are not open."

"Yes."

"They just want to say that your poem is 'crooked'. Shi Yuan was there at the time. I will tell Shi Yuan later that I will ask him to testify tomorrow. There is also the matter of Qiang. It must have been recorded in the government annals at that time. , I will look for my father when I go back... what day is it?"

"Yuanzhang 22, the first day of May."

"Based on this day, look up the government records, and I will find them for you tonight, so you can rest assured."

He patted his chest, and let out a belch full of leeks: "By the way, he also relieved Lefeng."

"Thank you."

"See you outside."

Since he was so confident, Wu Jin didn't say anything, and sent Cheng Ting out of Shishi Street before he turned and went home.

Facing Wu's mother's worried face, he smiled, reassuring that he was not sick, and when he walked into the room, he smiled and kneaded the roots of the mountain to relieve his headache.

In the end, the smile faded away, he lowered his eyes and sat in the chair, feeling chills in his heart, because he knew that Wang Zhizhou was not a brat like Cheng Ting, and he would not just misinterpret a poem to harm him.

After admitting that the poem was written by himself?

Wang Zhizhou will become a hook, hooking into his heart all the time, pulling out what he hides in the deepest place that he dare not show to others.

It is a bit of charming light in the world of mortals, a bit of rippling heart at the beginning of four seasons, and a bit of desire that even gods and Buddhas can hardly give up.

If Wang Zhizhou asked him whether he had selfish intentions for Mo Lingfeng, how should he answer?

If the answer is yes, Wang Zhizhou will ask him to enter Mo's house because of selfishness, deceive Mo Jiedu to be seriously ill, and take advantage of the vacancy, and Mo Lingfeng is young and ignorant, deceived by him, what should he do?

He cannot be selfish.

Without selfishness, there would be no subsequent series of questions, no series of questions that would ruin his reputation.

Yes—he told himself, to lie.

His mind is very clear and his thoughts are in order, but there is a kind of martyrdom-like grief in his heart, and he can't tell what it is for—maybe it's because the way he insists on is collapsing little by little, or maybe it's because his selfishness is about to be punished. Buried, or both.

After sitting for too long, the lamp oil was also exhausted, and the room suddenly fell into boundless darkness. He sat in the chair without moving, allowing the darkness to engulf him.

In the early morning of the next day, Kuanzhou was busy again, with people coming and going on the street, Wu Jin walked to the state school in the cool morning breeze, before entering, he saw many literati gathered outside the gate of the state school.

Wu Jin took a step forward and was about to walk in when Cheng Ting's voice suddenly came from behind him, and before he could turn around, Cheng Ting had already arrived beside him, grabbed his hand, and dragged him back: "Go. "

Wu Jin was taken aback, and followed Cheng Ting: "Where are you going?"

"Go to the back." Cheng Ting swept him like a gust of wind until he arrived at the corner door of the academy. Through a thin layer of wood, Wu Jin heard Cheng Zhifu's hearty laughter.

Cheng Ting couldn't help but grabbed Wu Jin's sleeve and went up the steps, pushed open the door, walked up to Cheng Taishan in one go, called Dad, saw the two directors were there, and hurried forward to call the director.

Wu Jin followed closely behind, saluting one by one, Cheng Taishan gave him a calm look, his eyes seemed to be comforting, and continued to walk forward.

Cheng Ting raised his chin at him, winked, pointed at his father, and then pointed at Wu Jin, meaning that his father was his father. When Cheng Zhifu turned his head, he saw his son dancing beside Wu Jin, scratching his head like a monkey , immediately itched.

The president of the State Academy, surnamed Mi, surnamed Ying Zong, just over fifty, looks very handsome, but dressed in a Taoist robe, holding a folding fan in his hand, slowly shaking, turned to look at Wu Jin, and suddenly said: "Yesterday Did you write the words Feiran Academy?"

Wu Jin bowed her head and replied, "Yes."

Mi Yingzong said in admiration: "The brushwork is amazing, both talented and hardworking, who is the teacher?"

Wu Jin replied truthfully: "It's the shogunate of Envoy Mo Jiedu. When the students were serving as fasting servants there, they were fortunate to have been instructed."

"Okay, that's the way to do learning. No matter where you are, you can learn from it." Mi Yingzong waved his fan and walked to the second hall of Xuezhai. It’s okay to learn first, no problem.”

Ye Shuhuai, the dean of Tunan Academy, also had a folded fan in Taoist robes, with a thin figure and a deep mark between his eyebrows: "No objection."

Several people talked and took them away, and walked all the way to the courtyard of the Zhai Academy. It had been properly arranged yesterday, and most of the sunlight was covered by the canopy. In the courtyard, the grass and trees were lush and the breeze greeted them. It was spacious and refreshing.

The students arrived early, and the two college students sat on the east and west sides, talking and laughing with each other, and shouted a few words from the air.

There are also spectators, crowding outside the two gates, stretching their necks to look at the big characters on the powder walls on both sides. Although they can't write, they can move their mouths, inevitably pointing and expressing their opinions.

For a while, the state school was extremely noisy, and when the two deans and Cheng Zhifu arrived hand in hand, there was another commotion, and they all stood up and saluted.

Wu Jin and Cheng Ting walked towards their seats amidst the noise, and several students greeted them in a low voice, waved their hands frantically, and clustered them in the middle.

After another quarter of an hour, several officials from Wang Zhizhou and Kuanzhou arrived late, and everyone had to stand up and salute again.

When all the people have arrived, the noise gradually subsides, and halfway through the hour when the incense burner is engraved, the copper ball falls on the copper plate, making a deep sound, and with the sound of a gong, the literary meeting officially begins.

The students on both sides, Jiaoyu, and lecturer got up and turned sideways to face the front. The two deans stood in the middle, and the officials, led by Cheng Zhifu and Wang Zhizhou, stood on one side, and they all looked at the screen in front of the courtyard.

Above the screen, there are portraits of saints hanging.

The two abbots bowed to each other, took the long incense from an instructor, put it in the incense burner, and bowed to the saint.

(End of this chapter)