Confucianism is supreme? I am reciting Tang poems in another world!

After hearing Yan Ruoci's answer, Ci Song instantly understood that this room belonged to Dean Yan. No wonder.

"Come, sit here." Yan Ruoci pulled Ci Song

to the desk, and then said to Ci Song: "My father wants me to write a poem about 'farewell'. I have never experienced such a thing. This type of poem is very difficult for me."

Hearing this, Ci Song did not rush to speak, but was thinking. After all, farewell poems are already a very classic theme in ancient poetry. If you write casually, you will get a lot.

"Ci Song, have you come into contact with this type of poetry?" Yan Ruoci sat at the table, holding his chin with both hands, and looked at him curiously.

"I have some contact, so should I write one now?" Ci Song asked.

After hearing Ci Song's answer, Yan Ruoci was slightly stunned and said, "Don't you need to think about it? I saw that when my father wrote poems, he would think about it for a long time. Sometimes, he would think about a poem for several days."

"Uh."

Ci Song didn't know how to answer for a moment. Indeed, when the ancients wrote a poem, they needed to spend a lot of effort, just like when Bai Juyi wrote the "Song of Everlasting Sorrow", in order to seek inspiration, he stood in the heavy snow for several hours, just to find a trace of inspiration, and then after several months of hard thinking, he wrote the "Song of Everlasting Sorrow" that has been passed down through the ages.

Thinking of this, Ci Song couldn't help but sigh at the ancients' pursuit and persistence in literature. This is a rare and precious quality. Ask yourself, Ci Song can't do it.

"I have written poems in this area before, so I don't need to think about it."

Ci Song evaded the question. He couldn't reveal his biggest secret. Yan Ruoci's identity was special, and even if she had a "child marriage" with him, Ci Song would not relax his defense against her.

Ci Song understood the principle that a man is innocent but guilty of possessing a treasure, especially someone like him who had great luck.

"Is that so? Then you write it. If I am satisfied with it, I will give you a reward."

As she said that, Yan Ruoci walked to her tea table, poured a cup of tea for Ci Song, and placed it on the desk.

Ci Song did not write, but asked Yan Ruoci a question: "Sister Yan, why sometimes when I write poetry, I will be attacked by the literary spirit?"

"Against the literary spirit?" After hearing Ci Song's answer, Yan Ruoci smiled calmly and said: "This problem is easy to solve. In simple terms, it is that you don't have enough control over the literary spirit, and you have shown extraordinary talent. For example, if you write a unique and good poem, your literary spirit will involuntarily emerge from you."

"If your realm is sufficient and you can perfectly control your own literary spirit, you will not only not be attacked, but you can even go to a higher level."

"I see." Ci Song nodded, and then said: "Then I will start writing, Sister Yan, if I am attacked by the literary spirit, you have to help me."

"Okay." Yan Ruoci responded, and then fell silent.

Ci Song picked up the pen and began to conceive this poem about friendship. The poem he wrote was in ancient style, focusing on ancient rhyme and describing the present with ancient style.

After a moment, Ci Song began to write, and the pen fell on the paper, and it was completed in one go. The artistic conception and emotions expressed in the poem were all integrated into the lines.

"The morning rain in Weicheng moistened the light dust, and the green willows in the guest house were new.

I urge you to drink another cup of wine, there will be no friends when you go west of Yangguan."

The moment the poem was finished, the talent in the whole room instantly poured into Ci Song's body. At the same time, Ci Song also began to circulate his own talent and began to circulate the Zhoutian.

In just a few breaths, Ci Song's forehead was covered with sweat, his cheeks became red, and his hands began to tremble uncontrollably. After seeing Ci Song's reaction, Yan Ruoci immediately understood that this was a symptom of the backlash of literary energy. Her face was full of shock, but she didn't care about anything else. She immediately put down the teacup in her hand, and then walked quickly to Ci Song's side, whispering: "Hold on.

After Yan Ruoci finished speaking, she placed her palm on Ci Song's back, and then began to use her own talent to help Ci Song suppress the backlash of literary energy.

In this way, the exchange of energy between her and Ci Song became extremely close.

Originally, Yan Ruoci thought that the backlash of talent in Ci Song would be easy to control. After all, she is now at the level of a scholar. However, when she came into contact with the literary energy that invaded Ci Song's body, she also felt a great pressure.

This feeling is like a majestic river, rushing around, wanting to swallow everything. Yan Ruoci immediately mobilized all her talents to fight against the backlash of the literary energy in Ci Song's body. Sweat began to flow from her forehead, and her palms began to tremble slightly.

Yan Ruoci felt as if a huge millstone was turning on her head, pressing her so hard that she could hardly breathe, and when her talents were interacting with Ci Song's literary energy, she also felt like she was being swallowed up.

"How terrible."

In just a short moment, Yan Ruoci felt that most of her talents were consumed, and she and Ci Song were sweating profusely.

If someone came in at this time, they would be shocked, because Yan Ruoci and Ci Song's clothes were soaked with sweat, sticking to their bodies, and looming.

Then, Yan Ruoci's delicate body began to tremble, and a trace of panic appeared in her beautiful eyes. The talent in Ci Song's body was too turbulent, and she could not suppress it at all.

"You have the talent of a saint, but not the body of a saint. This is the first time I have seen such a situation. It seems that your inheritance is more powerful than I thought. A random poem is enough to make people enter the realm of literary masters."

A voice reached Ci Song's ears. Ci Song had heard this voice before. It was the old gentleman whose face could not be seen.

"I will help you. If there is any excess talent in the future, it will be collected in the Wenyun Pearl."

As soon as the voice fell, a golden light emerged from Ci Song's body, instantly absorbing those uncontrolled talents.

After absorbing these talents, the golden light quickly gathered towards the Wenyun Pearl in the dantian, and those talents immediately became quiet and no longer agitated after entering the Wenyun Pearl.

"Sister Yan, I, I feel almost well, thank you."

Ci Song circulated the talent in his body for a cycle, confirmed that his body was fine, and then asked Yan Ruoci.

"You, you're okay, that's good."

Yan Ruoci's face was flushed, he was breathing heavily, his brows were covered with sweat, and his hands behind him were trembling.

Ci Song couldn't help but sniff it lightly and smelled a strange fragrance.

"Today I finally understand what it means to sweat profusely."

. . . . . . .