Food Fairy Lord

Chapter 535: Poetry Master

There must have been a moment in the banquet hall when it was a completely still picture. In this picture, the lights in the building were as bright as day, people in brocade clothes were either sitting or standing, their gold-threaded jade shoes and mother-of-pearl hairpins were swaying in the shadow of the wine, and everyone's eyes were cast in the same direction, as if that was the only bright spot.

It was the center of the sword field. The girl in white had not yet sheathed her sword. She stood sideways with her head tilted, her lips slightly pursed, and a look of loss still lingering on her face. Four steps in front of her, a young man with cold eyes stood there like a ray of sword energy, pointing his sword. The old man with a face like a Buddha fell to the ground with a gloomy and stiff face.

Later, when Jiang Yin'er thought about this incident, she tilted her head and said, "So from then until that moment, we only saw each other's backs."

"Yeah - I look pretty handsome from behind, right?"

Jiang Yin'er stopped talking.

Now is exactly the moment in that memory, everything is still tense, and a suffocating atmosphere fills the entire banquet hall... There is no doubt that everyone will remember the name Pei Ye tonight.

"The Wild Goose Sign of the Fairy Terrace is here to assist Jingzhao Prefecture in investigating the Li Pavilion case." The young man said indifferently, "I will investigate the matter of Huanlou to the end."

Li Du's expression slowly darkened after a few breaths. He stared at the young man with his old eyes and said word by word, "How brave."

...so brave.

People looked at the young man in the field, still speechless - he would not die here, he was not an assassin, and he did not assassinate the prime minister... but it was hard to say whether he could live for a few more tomorrows.

He simply stepped hard on the bottom line of the word "offense", violated everything that could be violated, and put the sharp tip of the sword in front of your pupils... and then took away what he wanted.

The authority and feasts of the entire Fantasy Tower seemed to have never had anything to do with him. The so-called Master of the Tang Dynasty and the Five Clans of Haotian seemed to be nothing to him... He came here tonight to find out who the master of the Fantasy Tower was, so he uncovered it himself.

Many people couldn't convince themselves to believe this simple logic at this moment. Lu Xiu's expression completely froze for the first time. In fact, even the people in the martial arts world had the same expression on their faces.

Zhou Shise was drinking and suddenly stood up: "Fuck... I was just reciting some broken poems, but he was serious!"

Ning Chaolie covered his mouth in time.

The most stunned and dazed person in this scene... was the man standing at the edge of the crowd, leaning against the corner of the entire banquet hall.

Sometimes people get out of their bodies.

All feelings of reality disappear, and only the scene you see or hear fills your entire soul.

"Don't you know what I'm here for?"

"I'll show you how to do it in a moment."

He had never imagined that someone could stand in front of these people in such a posture. Aren't these surnames the masters of the Tang Dynasty? Among the scholars he met in the academy, in the literati circle, in the poetry circle... anywhere, being able to have a little connection with one of these people is like a chicken or dog about to ascend to heaven, like a golden robe on his body, and from then on "there is a way to the Phoenix Terrace", and the surrounding people will be full of admiring eyes.

In order to gain such an opportunity, one would go around poetry gatherings, write articles for others, ask for introductions, and be selected... If one wants to move up and advance, one must first humble oneself and become small. This has long been the norm in the entire Shenjing and even the entire Tang Dynasty.

He had been bent and frustrated countless times, drunk and boating countless times, sometimes because his poems were too sharp, sometimes because his knees were not low enough, some of his acquaintances left, they carried their bags and said: "Yuxi, go away, they have bent and blunted you, you haven't written such a poem for a long time."

But he still chose to stay in this city.

"Tao Ling's fence is beautiful, and Luo Han's house is fragrant."

All his life he could never be a hermit who contentedly returned to the sunset by the fence. His heart was always beating, whether it was anger, disgust or desire.

He wandered in this prosperous imperial city, not knowing his own mission. He only longed for an explanation for his twenty-plus years of life. Some of those things he once had were discarded, some were sealed up. Later, he collectively called them "face."

It took him a long time to understand that "what you want to say is not important, what they want to hear is important", and he became more and more adapted to the gap that allowed him to pass upward - as long as he could become the shape it required.

This is the world as he sees it.

Until he heard—

"Old thief, I will cut off your head sooner or later."

The whole world seemed to fade away.

That scene seemed to hit him hard and heavily. In one moment he felt like suffocating and vomiting, and in the next moment he felt a sour, tear-jerking pleasure.

A person who is born with shackles will never know how to take them off... unless he really sees the dance of freedom. "Whose disciple are you?" The voice of the Black Fox Face could not tell whether he was happy or angry, but at this moment, if he didn't speak, no one else would speak.

Pei Ye raised his head, his face expressionless as before: "Publicity is public, private is private. If you have any questions, you can make an appointment later."

Someone has to smooth things over.

After all, countless distinguished guests were still at the banquet, including the Fourth Prince who was still indifferent in the eyes. The sixteen words of heaven's will were still written on the curtain wall. No one thought that the provocation of a young Yan Jian could shake the foundation of the Tang Dynasty, so naturally the whole banquet should not be allowed to get out of control.

So when the blue-robed waiter came to invite him, the man was stunned for two breaths before he saw clearly that his mouth was pointing towards him.

The boy actually told him his name.

Yes, the so-called "those who wear masks compete with each other in skills" was originally a rule of the game set by themselves. Those who wanted to compete in skills should not take them off, and those who have taken them off and want to exchange poems can do so... In the entire banquet, only people like them who came to curry favor with others carefully abide by every rule.

Then he realized so suddenly that the opportunity he had been longing for had appeared.

The swordsman was gone, and he was the only poet left. He took a somewhat stiff step and staggered a bit before leaving the table... The entire silent banquet hall cast their eyes on him.

Lu Lin looked at him, Xin Dongxue looked at him, Wen Qi looked at him... He held on to the pillar, subconsciously took out the piece of poetry, and walked towards the direction he had been staring at.

He knew that his poem was indeed very well written. Even if he himself did not think so, many people would think so.

What a dreamlike scene this is. The Five Surnames, the Royal Family, Zhe Zi, Tian Lou... so many people are waiting to witness your talent.

Everyone will listen to it. As long as this poem is read out, everyone will start talking about it. As long as this poem is dedicated to the old man who has just lost his Buddha face, it will be the best way out for him.

——"I wish to ride on the golden parrot and ascend to your white jade hall."

What an elegant and courteous sentence! It must have made the cold and angry boy become like a reckless man, and must have made his behavior suddenly become childish and boring.

And the Prime Minister of the Tang Dynasty, Li Du, would of course be happy to accept his visit... or he might have already been waiting.

His drunken head was a little slow, and when the man figured this out, he couldn't help but smile knowingly.

His long robe was wrinkled, his hair was disheveled, and his pale face was flushed with drunkenness. Under the gaze of the people, he staggered to the edge of the poetry stage.

"—Then why don't you write the poem you want to write? I think it must be wonderful."

"If my sword is not for them to admire, then your poem will not be for them to please. How about that?"

"..."

He thought of these words and couldn't help but smile again.

When he came to his senses, the paper in his hand had been crumpled into pieces.

He looked up and saw that it was seven steps from here to the center of the crowd.

In seven steps, he wrote a poem he really wanted to write, titled "This Night".

Turning his head, he saw no ink, so he laughed drunkenly and recited it aloud. His bright drunken eyes and bright sentences were as sharp as the sword on the other side.

The title is "Jia Sheng", which says:

"In the Xuanshi Hall, seeking talents and visiting exiled officials, Jia Sheng's talent was unmatched.

It's a pity that the seat in front of me is empty at midnight, and I don't ask about the common people, but about ghosts and gods."

……

"Do you believe it? I can write poems about history better than he does."

(End of this chapter)