Hearing the last sentence, the officials were very puzzled. This poem appeared in Beijing in the spring and has already spread all over the world. Except for the uncomfortable reading of Dajiang's large characters, many poets have always thought that this poem has nothing to do with it. It's picky, but the essence is in the last four sentences. I don't know why Zhuang Mohan said otherwise.
Zhuang Mohan said coldly: "The reason why the first four sentences are good is not because the last four sentences are bad, but because... these last four sentences were not written by Mr. Fan!"
As soon as this remark came out, there was an uproar in the hall, and then it immediately became a deathly silence, and no one spoke.
Fan Xian pretended to be stunned, but he understood many things, and he calmed down. He leaned on the table after drunkenness, and looked at Zhuang Mohan with a smile on his face.
A few months ago, Lin Wan'er said that someone in the palace said that her poem was copied, and she didn't care about it at the time, but she didn't expect it to explode today. Guo Baokun provoked this incident, apparently at the behest of a nobleman.
After entering Beijing, the only thing she can get is the so-called literary reputation. If she completely destroys her reputation, in such a world where literary virtues are extremely important, she can only voluntarily withdraw from the engagement.
After Fan Xian heard Zhuang Mohan read the first four sentences, he felt relieved. Seeing that everyone in Zhuang still didn't know that the great river was the Yangtze River, he knew that the thing he was most afraid of did not happen. If he wanted to accuse himself of plagiarism, Zhuang Mohan could only rely on his own knowledge and reputation to suppress others, nothing more.
I just don't know how the eldest princess convinced Zhuang Mohan, who has always been very famous, to come all the way to become a villain.
※※※
after a long time.
His Majesty frowned, knowing that plagiarism was a very serious accusation, if Zhuang Mohan had no basis, he would never dare to make such irresponsible remarks in the palace of Qing Kingdom.
"Empty words have no proof." Zhang Ziqian, the Minister of Rites who had been sitting next to Fan Xian, said with a smile, "Mr. Zhuang Mohan is a generation of masters, and when students were young, they would often study with the scriptures annotated by him. Naturally, no one in the world would dare to doubt what he said. But the matter involved plagiarism, perhaps Mr. was deceived by villains."
He glanced at Guo Baokun, the son of his boss, and was not too shy about revealing who he said the villain was.
Zhuang Mohan raised his head, and in his eyes full of wisdom, there was a trace of complicated emotions: "The last four lines of this poem were written by my teacher when he was traveling in Tingzhou. I have been thinking about it for decades, but I don't know where Mr. Fan came up with this phrase by chance. Originally, the pearl buried in the dust could see the sun again, and the old man thought it was good. It's just that Mr. Fan used this to invite the name, but the old man didn't take it. Scholars see it Re-cultivate the heart and cultivate morality, the words and sentences of the article are of the last way. This old man loves talents like his life, and he does not want to expose this matter lightly. He intended to come to Qingguo to see how you are, but unexpectedly, Mr. Fan did not know how to repent, and on the contrary he was even more victorious."
Fan Xian almost laughed, thinking shameless, shameless, but the others couldn't laugh, the atmosphere in front of the hall had already become very depressing. If this matter is true, not to mention that Fan Xian will no longer have the face to enter the officialdom and the literary world, even the entire Qing Dynasty court will lose all face.
Scholars all over the world valued Zhuang Mohan's life and morals, and they couldn't doubt it at all. What's more, Zhuang Mohan said that it was done by his own teacher. With the respect of scholars in the world, he is taking the teacher's character as proof. Who would dare to doubt it
All the officials had already decided in their hearts that Fan Xian's poem was plagiarized, and looked at him with weird and disgusting eyes, but they couldn't let this kind of thing become a fact. After a cold look at Shu Wu, the senior scholar of Wenyuan Pavilion, after a moment of embarrassment, senior scholar Shu stood up in embarrassment, and first bowed to Zhuang Mohan: "I have seen the teacher."
This Shu University scholar traveled to the Northern Qi Dynasty and studied under Zhuang Mohan's school, so he met him as a teacher and a student. He had already believed what Zhuang Mohan said at this time, that Fan Xian's poem was copied, but under His Majesty's stern gaze, he had no choice but to stand up and speak for Fan Xian: "Mr. Let’s just say that the previous short song is also extremely brilliant, if it is said that he copied it, it is really hard to believe, and it seems that there is no need for it.”
At this time, Zhuang Mohan had already sat down, coughed twice, and said softly, "Shu Wu, do you suspect that this old man is using the name of the former teacher?"
Master Shu was sweating profusely, he didn't dare to say anything, he couldn't care less about His Majesty's gloomy gaze, and he walked back obediently. At this time, if anyone doubted it, they would wait until they said that Zhuang Mohan was a shameless person with no teacher and father, no one would dare to bear such a reputation.
But the emperor is not an ordinary scholar, he is not a noble concubine, nor is he the empress dowager, he doesn't like this Zhuang Mohan at all, so he said coldly: "The Qing Dynasty pays more attention to the law, which is different from the weak appearance of Northern Qi. If Mister wants to accuse someone of a crime, he needs some evidence."
All the ministers could hear that His Majesty was angry. If Zhuang Mohan really accused Fan Xian of plagiarism, it would be difficult for Fan Xian to have a bright future.
Zhuang Mohan smiled slightly, asked the attendant behind him to take out a piece of paper, and said, "This is the handwriting of the family teacher. If someone from Fang's family reads it, he will naturally know the age." He looked at Fan Xian, and said sympathetically, "Mr. Poetry is talented, but the meaning of painting a tiger is too strong, but I don’t know that the poem is the voice of the heart, how about the last four characters of this poem, how can I write it based on Mr. Fan’s experience?"
At this time, only Zhuang Mohan's slightly old but extremely stable voice explaining the poem could be heard in the hall: "Thousands of miles of sad autumn, how cool is it? I have been sick for a hundred years, and it was when my master climbed alone when he was in his dying years. The surging river, The eyes are full of desolation... Mr. Fan is still young, so I don't know what to do with his illness for more than a hundred years?"
Zhuang Mo Han Yue said that everyone felt more and more that such a poem was definitely impossible for a young man to write it. Hearing Zhuang Mohan's voice again: "Fan Shuang's temples are full of flowers, and Mr. Fan has black hair, so I can't help but say I'm worried."
…
…
Zhuang Mohan finally said in a soft voice: "As for the last sentence of "Xin Ding Zhuo Wine Cup", regardless of Mr. Fan's glamorous family background, there is no such thing as being down and out, but if you say "Xing Ding Zhuo Wine Cup" five words, I am afraid that Mr. Fan will not understand why the former teacher Let's put it this way." He looked at Fan Xian with a feeling of unbearable brows, "My master suffered from lung disease in his later years, so he couldn't drink alcohol, so he used the word "new stop."
As soon as these words came out, the officials of the Qing Kingdom were finally discouraged. They didn't need that piece of paper at all, and only talked about these unexplainable problems. The crime of plagiarism for Fan Xian is extremely difficult to escape.
At this moment, suddenly there was a burst of applause in the quiet palace!
Fan Xian, who had always seemed to be drunk at his desk, suddenly stood up, looked at Zhuang Mohan with a smile, and slowly lowered his palms, feeling a little more admiration in his heart. Of course, no one knew who this Mr. Zhuang's teacher was, but the other party From this poem, it can be deduced that the old Du's life and illnesses were really worthy of the title of the world's number one literary master.
However, Fan Xian knew that the other party was framing him today, and the piece of paper might have been dealt with earlier, so he couldn't admire it to the end. There was a hint of madness on Qing Yi Tuochen's face, and he said with a drunken smile: "Mr. Zhuang unexpectedly today I don't even want the face of the teacher, I really don't know what made the master disregard the past reputation."
Others thought that he had lost his mind after being exposed, and his speech had gradually become unbearable, so they all frowned. The queen softly ordered the people around her to call the guards in, lest Mr. Fan do anything sensational. Unexpectedly, His Majesty the Emperor waved his hand coldly and asked everyone to listen to Fan Xian's words.
Fan Xian staggered out, his eyes full of amusement and scorn, and he shouted loudly, "Come on the wine!"
Seeing his mad look, the maids at the back did not dare to step forward, but some ministers felt wronged for Fan Xian all the time. They hugged a wine jar of about two catties from behind and sent it to Fan Xian.
"Thank you!" Fan Xian laughed, smashed the wine pot to seal the mud, and drank from the pot, like a whale sucking the long sea. After a while, he poured the wine in the pot into his stomach. After a belch, he felt drunk , he had already drank a lot today, and when he was urged to drink, his complexion became even more rosy, his eyes were crystal clear, but his body kept shaking.
He staggered to the head chief like a dancer, pointed at Zhuang Mohan's nose and said, "Master, do you really insist on saying that?"
Zhuang Mohan smelled the smell of wine coming to his face, frowned slightly and said: "It's good that you have a heart of repentance, son, why bother to hurt yourself like this."
Fan Xian looked into his eyes, smiled slightly, and his articulate words seemed a bit slurred: "Everything has a cause and an effect. Mr. Zhuang accused me of plagiarizing these four sentences from my predecessor. I don't know why I copied them? Could it be that the short song from earlier is enough?" If you are born late, you can't win the fame in this lifetime?"
The five characters of his name before and after his life are very good, even Zhuang Mohan was a little moved. He was concerned about some important matter, and he had no choice but to hinder the clarity of his life today. He couldn't bear to deliberately frame the young man in front of him, so he slowly moved his head away. Open, said lightly: "Perhaps Mr. Fan copied this poem too."
"Who copied it? Could it be that I wrote a poem and copied it? Could it be that Mr. Zhuang's disciples are all over the world, and his poems and essays are known everywhere, so he is qualified to be identified as a plagiarist?"
Seeing Zhuang Mohan tap the scroll on the table lightly with his fingers, Fan Xian sneered and said, "Master Zhuang, it's okay to use this trick to fool children. You say I copied Lingshi's poems, I'm surprised, why I still Before it was written, this poem never appeared in the world?"
Zhuang Mohan didn't seem to want to have more verbal disputes with him, but Fan Xian said softly: "Mr. said that late-born hair is not white, so you can't talk about frostbite, and your body is healthy, so you can't be sick for more than a hundred years... But Mr. I don't know, Wansheng likes to make troubles the most in his life, and he plans to start over in this life, you don't know my past, so you blame me and hurt me, how boring."
I don't know if he really drank too much, or if he had a rare chance to vent his pent-up depression, Fan Xian's clean and detached face suddenly showed a bit of madness.
"Shi is the voice of the heart." Zhuang Mohan looked at him and said gently: "Fan Xiaoyou has no such past, how can he write this poem?"
"Poetry is the way of writing." Fan Xian looked at him and said coldly: "The way of poetry always pays attention to genius. Maybe my poems are forced to express sorrow, but whoever says that things that have not been experienced cannot be transformed into own poetry?"
His words were extremely arrogant, and he compared himself to a genius, so he used this to prove that Zhuang Mohan's previous poetic theory did not exist!
Hearing this, Zhuang Mohan frowned slightly, and said with a wry smile: "Could it be that Mr. Fan can write wonderful words that have nothing to do with what happened to him anytime and anywhere?" , and absolutely no such ability.
Seeing that the other party fell into his own calculations, Fan Xian smiled slightly, took a sip from the wine jug on the other party's table without courtesy, and looked at him quietly, but the drunkenness in his eyes gradually became stronger, and suddenly he waved his green sleeves , drink three times:
"Paper here!"
"Mo come!"
"People!"
The intoxicated man shouted three times, and everyone in the palace didn't understand what it meant. Only His Majesty the Emperor still calmly ordered the maids to follow Fan Xian's instructions, and they would be ready in a while. There was a large empty space in front of the hall, only a few people stood alone and proudly in the middle.
Fan Xian was a little unsteady, reluctantly bowed to His Majesty and said, "I will use your Majesty's pen as an eunuch."
Although the emperor didn't understand what he meant, he still slightly agreed. A eunuch who was writing went to the table and sat down, laid out the white paper, and studied the pen and ink. Unexpectedly, Fan Xian suppressed his alcohol, shook his head and said, "One is not enough."
"Fan Xian, what are you messing around with?" The prince who was quite close to him finally couldn't help but speak. But the emperor still complied with his request calmly, but a smile gradually appeared in his eyes, as if he had guessed what was about to happen.
Fan Xian glanced at Zhuang Mohan with a smile, and the drunkenness in his eyes was even stronger, and he said to the three eunuchs who were waiting to write: "I read, you write, if you write slowly, if you don't copy it down, I won't write the second one." all over."
The three eunuchs became nervous for no reason. Many people were guessing what Fan Xian was going to do, how he could make the world believe that he was the real poet of the generation between Zhuang Mohan and him. It was not long into the night at this time, and the night wind in late summer was not very cool, but the atmosphere in the field was somewhat similar to the sound of drums on the battlefield.
…
…
"... The wild fire burns endlessly, and the spring breeze blows and regenerates... The random flowers gradually become charming, and Asakusa has no horseshoes... The sky will last forever, and this hatred will last forever."
There was no sign, no gestation, Fan Xian blurted out a passage, all of which were composed by Bai Juyi, and within a short time, there were more than a dozen poems. He stood beside the book table, looking at the night outside the palace, and kept reciting all the famous poems that his strange brain could remember. Several eunuchs were scribbling, but they could hardly keep up with his speed. .
Everyone was silent and savored carefully.
Facing endless plots and calculations, and under strong pressure, he finally broke out at this time. Under the madness, he only cared about reciting the poems in his mind, not caring whether the eunuch remembered it or not. I don't care if others understand or not. The fragrant words of the previous life echoed through his thin lips in the palace of Qing Kingdom.
Zhuang Mohan's eyes gradually underwent some wonderful changes.
At the beginning, the courtiers who were just watching the fun finally couldn't help muttering in their hearts. They have never heard any of these poems, but they are indeed wonderful sentences. Could it be that... they were all written by Mr. Fan
"It's like snow in the evening, I can drink a cup without..." This is Bai Letian drinking.
"Don't you see..." Then it was Taibai's turn to drink.
"Looking at each other into three people..." This is Taibai who is still drinking.
"But make the master drunk..." This is still Taibai drinking.
"Whoever abandons me, don't keep the day of yesterday; whoever messes with my heart, today is so worrying..." This is too much wine.
…
…
The people in the palace no longer cared about the king's crime of disrespect, and gradually sat around Fan Xian, listening to the poems he recited, with shock and disbelief written all over their faces. How about a poem, everyone has ears, and there are many geniuses in the world, but since ancient times, there will definitely not be a scene like today.
I have seen someone who writes poetry, but I have never seen someone who writes poetry like this! Composing poetry is definitely not moving Chinese cabbage in the vegetable market - but countless never-ending poems spewed out from Fan Xian's mouth, as if he didn't need to think about it, what's the difference from moving Chinese cabbage!
Although some of the lines in these poems are strange, it is because the ministers have never known the allusions in that world, but the ministers are still horrified. These poems... the first capital is a good product!
Fan Xian still didn't stop. At this time, all the ministers looked at Fan Xian with strange eyes, feeling that this clean and unrestrained young man in front of him was no longer a genus in the mortal world, but a descendant of heaven and man. Frightened, the sober Wenyuange scholar replaced the three eunuchs with exhausted wrists and began to copy these fleeting verses. Master Xiao Fan had said it before, and he would only say it once.
Fan Xian didn't know the scene around him. He still had his eyes closed and his mind was spinning extremely fast. On the one hand, he was recalling these verses, and on the other hand, he was thinking about his actions for a while. If you have time to think about other things, I'm afraid it will be even more shocking.
He felt that his mouth was a little thirsty, so he stretched out his hand into the air next to him, and the knowledgeable Tai Xueshi was bringing over the wine, carefully putting it in his hand, for fear of disturbing his emotions at this time.
From the gentlemen in the Book of Songs, to Gong Zizhen’s silent horses, the moonlight in Tang Dynasty, Jiangmu in Song Dynasty, Du Fu’s thatched cottage, Su Dongpo’s cooking Huangzhou fish, Du Mu’s prostitution, Mei Sanbian also prostitutes, Yuan Zhen once had a mistress in the sea, Li Yi’an Jinse Thinking about Hua Nian for no reason, Ouyang Xiu loves his niece (this is an unjust case).
Fan Xian closed his eyes, took a sip of wine, "composed" a poem, three pots of wine were exhausted, and three hundred poems came out!
In the vast palace, there seemed to be countless lights and shadows flying, gradually congealing into a picture that only he could see clearly with his eyes closed. It was the poet in the previous life, the old handsome guy and the young handsome guy in the previous life, singing lightly under the bamboo, The bed is bare belly, the breeze is blissful on the avenue in the pavilion, and weeping sadly by the river.
This is everything from the previous life, everything from Fan Xian's previous life, in this sudden way, suddenly descended on the world of Qing Kingdom, hitting everyone's hearts. Fan Xian was fighting Zhuang Mohan with the help of countless ancient figures in his previous life.
He opened his eyes suddenly, and looked at Zhuang Mohan coldly, but it seemed that he was looking at a world farther away.
"Don't you see, the water of the Yellow River comes from the sky." Who can be more free and easy than Li Bai
"The waves are washed away, and a man of the ages." Who can be more heroic than Su Shi
"Last night, the rain was dredging and the wind was sudden, and a deep sleep did not make up for the residual wine." Who can be more graceful than Li Qingzhao
Eternal romance, how can one person fight against it
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…
With a crisp sound, Zhuang Mohan's trembling hands finally could no longer hold the wine glass, and the wine glass fell on the bluestone floor, turning into countless pieces.
Quiet, all quiet.
I don't know how long it took before Fan Xian finally stopped this crazy performance, but the people in the main hall of the Qing Dynasty Palace still couldn't get rid of this emotion for a while. The bachelors and eunuchs who wrote the book had already changed several rounds. He came over, sat down on the ground, stroked his sore right hand, and looked at Fan Xian with the eyes of a god.
Fan Xian drank too much, walked up to Zhuang Mohan staggeringly, pointed a finger at his nose, shook, hiccupped and said softly:
"I'm not as good as you for commenting on the scriptures. You... are not as good as me for writing poems."
The hall was still quiet, so although this sentence was said very lightly, it fell into everyone's ears clearly. The courtiers at this time, of course, believed in this sentence very much. They had long admired Mr. Fan's poetic talent. No matter how high Zhuang Mohan's reputation was, if it was about poetry and prose, anyone who listened to Fan Xian on the spot " Those people who recited the "Three Hundred Ancient Poems" will no longer be able to believe that there will be someone whose poetry is better than Fan Xian's.
Don't mention plagiarism at this time, everyone has long believed what Fan Xian said, there are so-called geniuses in the world, who can write shocking poems without having to go through certain things. What was it just now? That is the means that only the immortals in the poem can have! Copy your MB, copy your MB!
Since no one believed that Fan Xian still had to copy poems with his talent, it was naturally Zhuang Mohan who was lying. At this time, all the people in the hall looked at Zhuang Mohan with disappointment, pity, and contempt, thinking that this generation of masters, half their lives, was famous, but unexpectedly, they lost their virtue and competed with the younger generations for their fame.
Zhuang Mohan looked at Fan Xian as if he was looking at a monster, his eyes were full of sadness. For some reason, his chest felt tight, he covered his lips with his white sleeve, and spat out blood.
His Majesty looked at Fan Xian with a half-smile on his face, and said, "You have such a talent, why don't you show it on weekdays?"
Fan Xian seemed drunk but not drunk, looked back at His Majesty and said: "Poetry is something to cultivate sentiment, not a skill for fighting ruthlessly."
It's a bit shameless to say this, isn't he still fighting fiercely tonight? I saw Fan Xian finally couldn't stop his complaints and alcohol, and fell down on the imperial steps, squinting at Zhuang Mohan whose lips were trembling slightly, and murmured, "I'm drunk and want to sleep, so go, go!" Damn you."
After finally finishing Li Taibai's last pose, Fan Xian fell into a drunken dream at the feet of the emperor Laozi.