The prince is too bad, the princess is too strange

Feng Qi laid out the paper, picked up the pen and dipped it in ink, and looked sideways at Zhuo Ye.

Mountaineering?After Zhuo Ye lowered his head and thought for a while, he cleared his throat and said, "One up, one up and another up."

Feng Qi was taken aback when she heard the words, and looked at Zhuo Ye in astonishment, but didn't write.

"Write!" Zhuo Ye said.

"Oh." Feng Qi nodded and began to write.

Feng Qi's handwriting is flowing and elegant, as handsome and beautiful as his person.Zhuo Ye couldn't help nodding 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 raising his eyebrows when he heard the words.

The corners of Feng Qi's mouth twitched again and again, and he continued to write, dumbfounded.

Qingzhu couldn't help "puchi" and laughed out loud, secretly disdainful in her heart: "Is this considered poetry? I can write better than this!"

Zhuo Ye could tell what they were thinking by looking at their expressions, so he didn't take it seriously. He raised his eyes to look at the setting sun in the sky, and then at the high and low mountains in the distance, and read the last two sentences: "Raise your head The red sun is lower than the clouds, and thousands of miles of rivers and mountains are in sight."

Feng Qi raised her head and looked at Zhuo Ye in surprise: "Good poem! Although the first two sentences are as plain as water, the last two sentences are magnificent! Then Ran Wenzhi is really going to lose to you!" The last two sentences fell on the paper, signed Zhuo Ye's name, and ordered Qingzhu to be sent into the pavilion.

A gleam flashed in Feng San's eyes, but it disappeared quickly, and he picked up the teacup to sip tea.

Zhuo Ye kept his expression on his face, but secretly confessed in his heart: "I'm sorry, Brother Bohu, I believe you won't mind using your poems to make some money... But, it doesn't matter if you mind. It won’t be possible to pass through in the Ming Dynasty..."

After Zhuo Ye's poem was submitted, several judges were either surprised or excited, with different expressions. After hanging up the poem, someone in charge of reading the poem read it aloud, and the surrounding area suddenly fell silent. Repeatedly reading, savoring the meaning of the poem carefully, some whispered, guessing who this Zhuo Ye is...

The eunuch Liu Yuanming in the pavilion suddenly said loudly: "Excuse me, who is Mr. Zhuo Ye Zhuo?"

Hearing this, Zhuo Ye stood up and saluted, "I have seen you, Zhuo Ye."

Everyone looked sideways and realized in their hearts that he was one of the three exceptionally outstanding young masters. They never expected him to have such literary talents...

Liu Yuanming looked at Zhuo Ye and nodded, and then said: "Master Zhuo's "Mountain Climbing" is indeed better than the one written by Mr. Ran, but Mr. Zhuo did not participate in the previous poem titles, so we set it as No. .1 It seems a bit unfair, why don't I ask the two young masters to write a poem within a time limit of one stick of incense, and the one with the best work will win, what do you think of the two young masters and the judges?"

All the judges nodded in agreement, and Zhuo Ye and Ran Wenzhi also expressed no objection.

After pondering for a moment, Liu Yuanming 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 the pen, watched Zhuo Ye smile, and waited for her to speak.

Zhuo Ye pondered for a moment, then said: "Grass."

Feng Qi waited for a while, but Zhuo Ye didn't see anything to say, so she couldn't help but look up at her suspiciously, seeing her motioning for him to write, she just wrote the word "grass" on the paper.

"Change the line, and then write 'Zheyi, look forward to it.'" Zhuo Ye said again.

Feng Qi paused in his hand, looked up at Zhuo Ye again, Fang lowered his head and continued to write.

"One more line..."

……

The more Feng Qi wrote down, the more surprised she felt.

Feng San remained expressionless, but he held a piece of pastry in his hand and didn't put it in his mouth for a long while.

Finally, Feng Qi wrote the poem according to Zhuo Ye's request, signed it, and handed it to Qingzhu.

Qingzhu didn't quite understand this poem, but judging by his young master's expression, he knew it was very good. Although he was unwilling, he had to look at Zhuo Ye with admiration, took the poem, and presented it in front of the pavilion.

At this time, Ran Wenzhi's poem hadn't been finished yet, so the scribe in charge of reading read Zhuo Ye's poem first:

"Grass.

Zheyi, optimistic about it.

Born all over the ground, and grow old.

The golden palace is built with jade, and the ancient road in the deserted city.

Qingqing thousands of miles away, melancholy three early spring.

Whenever the north and the south parted, things were dumped at first glance.

I am originally from the mountains, chatting with Wang Sunwei and hugging me. "

It is a wonderful pagoda poem!As soon as this poem came out, everyone was shocked!Ran Wenzhi tore off the half-written poem on the table, and said in a trembling voice: "I lost..." His face was full of frustration and sadness...