world free fairy

Chapter 57

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A pool of clean water!
There are rockeries on all sides, and there are flowing springs, winding paths leading to secluded places.

Once everything recovers and a hundred flowers bloom, this place must be an extremely wonderful place.

At that time, the breeze will come, the water will be swaying, and under the trees in front of the flowers, reading aloud, thinking about it, I will feel at ease, refreshing, and longing for leisurely.

However, now that the cold winter is killing, the trees have only dead branches, and the flowers have withered. Even if the rockery is flowing and the winding paths lead to secluded places, there is nothing to write about.

The scriptures and meanings of the poems, songs and articles can be written correctly.

The time is only half a cup of tea, and if you really want to write a wonderful article, it is not enough time.

Only writing poems and songs.

However, it is not an easy task to write a good poem and song in a short period of time, so as to win the first prize, especially if there is a master of poetry on the spot.

uniform!
The big guys all looked at Yang Chen in the crowd.

Yang Chen looked at his nose with his eyes and his heart with his nose, carefully comprehending the state of the unity of man and nature just now, but felt that he already had a thorough understanding of the profound meaning of Tai Chi, and also had an inexplicable understanding of the vitality of the world. Close to the familiar feeling.

Especially when reciting the sutras of being born in heaven and attaining the full truth, the soul is quiet, the only one is me, and the inspiration is transparent, and I can clearly sense the vitality of the world around me, but I feel that the vitality of the world is like a mother's womb, and I am like a baby. Na, very comfortable.

Don't hear anything outside the window with your ears, and concentrate on understanding the unity of heaven and man.

This instead made Yang Chen look a little unpredictable.

There is a faint smile on his face, his body is straight, and his eyes look into the distance, which is empty and far away.

"Could it be that Yang Chen is also poor at words?"

"That's right. In the past few days, every time Yang Chen posted something, it must be a classic handed down from generation to generation. Considering how old he is and how much he has accumulated, he has accumulated a lot in recent days, and now he is probably empty."

"Articles are natural, and good hands can get them by chance. Really good poems and essays are the accumulation of talent. When the inspiration comes, you can write with the help of God. After writing, the literary spirit gathers and the vision comes from the sky. Such poems and essays can be called It’s rare to see it in decades, hundreds of years.”

"I still don't believe it, even if Yang Chen is full of talent, he still can't do this step!"

Thinking about it in this way, confidence is born naturally. Once a person has confidence, his mental outlook will change and be different. Each of them will be full of fighting spirit, and the eyes will shine brightly.

This time the opportunity has come, not to be missed.

The scholars who rushed to the place wanted to take this opportunity to make a big splash, thinking hard, choosing words and making sentences. Firstly, it could increase the chances of becoming a gentleman in Mafu, and secondly, it could improve their literary reputation.

Good poems are recited by everyone, and there is an induction in the dark. When the time comes, the power of the mind will be blessed to nourish the seeds of the divine way, and the seeds of the divine way will be able to take root and germinate, ignite the divine fire, and condense the supreme godhead. With the godhead, you can be called a god .

What's more, every good poem can be turned into Confucianism with the blessing of literary spirit and the control of the seeds of the divine way, with all kinds of incredible uses.

Suddenly there was a gust of wind, and the water rippled and rippled.

Looking at the water waves, someone with a happy face stepped forward and made a poem.

"Yes, listen to me!"

Chunbo smiled softly at Chirou,

Xizi Huansha several times in autumn.

Stories are told by people for thousands of years,
A pool of clear water is leisurely.

Poetry writing was completed quickly, with only faint, wisps of literary spirit gathering and surging on the original manuscript, which did not turn into aura and manifest outside.

"Surrounded by literary spirit!"

"It's well written. The first poem is so literary, and the following ones can be expected to be wonderful."

"Chunbo smiled lightly at Yichi Rou, this sentence is amazing, isn't Yichi Chun [water] soft and smooth to the bone?"

The author smiled reservedly: "I am throwing bricks and attracting jade, classmates and hatchets, and a family of generosity. There is a talented man here. Who dares to say that his poems are good?"

Yang Chen has recovered from the realm of comprehension between heaven and man, and he is also thinking about how he can use that poem to pass this level. Who knows that he is thinking quietly and not provoking others.

Others brought the topic back to themselves instead.

And this is too embarrassing to say.

It's clearly to bring hatred to yourself, okay?

As these words fell to the ground, Yang Chen clearly felt a few unkind eyes falling on him.

Since ancient times, there is no second in martial arts, and no first in literature. It is almost impossible to beat your peers and be respected for the rest of your life.

"Ha ha!"

Yang Chen just smiled and didn't answer.

Seeing that everyone has finished writing poems, but the original manuscripts of the poems they wrote did not arouse the literary spirit, and they all surrendered and did not submit them, which only added humiliation and became a wedding dress for others.

"Yang Caizi, are you laughing at me for not writing well?" The author who wrote Chunbo, Smiling and Chirou was elated, accepting praise from others.

Seeing Yang Chen laughing at this time, he felt inexplicably in a bad mood.

"Thinking about it, you have some excellent words. You don't like my shoddy poetry. Please read it out to the public so that everyone can see it."

Everyone turned their eyes and looked at Yang Chen.

Even the young man in green who had been standing motionless by the pool with his eyes closed, opened his eyes and stared at Yang Chen hopefully.

Yang Chen's reputation as a talented scholar began with the Xiyuan Dongmei Poetry Meeting, and his fame rose to the top. With the song "The Charcoal Seller", Yang Chen's literary name soared to the sky. Almost all scholars in Weicheng know that Yang Chen In the name of Chen's gifted scholar.

Even some ordinary people would recite Yang Chen's The Charcoal Seller.

The charcoal seller is easy to understand and catchy to read, and it is widely spread in Weicheng.

"Ha ha!"

Yang Chen smiled again, and opened his mouth to say: "It's also a coincidence. A few days ago, I was inspired by reading and wrote a little poem. It happened that the scene in this place was somewhat similar. I just wrote this little poem. Read it out, and please correct one or two."

The author who made a spring wave and a smile and a chirou, but he didn't believe that a poem written by Yang Chen at will can make the literary spirit linger, and he thinks that today's poetry should be the first.

So he became a little arrogant, and said in a loud voice: "Don't talk too much, quickly read out the little poem you happened to have, whether it is good or bad, so many scholars present, they can naturally know it by listening."

Yang Chen smiled, didn't say much, took a step forward, calmed down, and read out the poems he had already thought up.

"A half-acre square pond opened!"

Everyone listened with bated breath.

The first sentence is quite satisfactory, not good, but not bad.

But following this sentence, there are strands of literary spirit lingering around Yang Chen's body.

"Sky light and cloud shadows linger together!"

The second sentence is also good.

However, the literary qi gradually became thicker, the surrounding vitality fluctuated, and a ray of breeze rose from the ground.

Looking at the slowly flowing rockery spring, Yang Chen's voice suddenly became high, and the clear and clear voice spread throughout the Ma residence.

"Ask him how clear it is? It's because there is a source of living water."

After a poem is finished, a strong wind rises from the ground, and the literary energy billows like a wolf's smoke into the sky, and the vitality of the heavens and the earth circulates and pours down on Yang Chen's body.

(End of this chapter)