Rise of the Poor

Chapter 92: The Poetry Meeting of the Immortals (IV)

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Why is the atmosphere so weird

But did that young man come up with some ridiculous doggerel again

Why do everyone have such strange expressions, as if relatives have come to my daughter's house.

The beautiful singer who was in charge of singing the poem was very surprised. Why did everyone look like that after seeing the poem written by the dandy boy? It felt weird...

After a few minutes, the completely silent atmosphere suddenly became noisy. People were either talking to themselves, whispering to each other, or questioning each other in low voices. The atmosphere upstairs became like a vegetable market again:

"Although the artistic conception is beautiful, the emotions are sincere, and it is fresh, elegant and not vulgar, I always feel something is wrong. What kind of tune is this? I can't find the corresponding tune name at all. It's really just playing the piano at random. Can you write poetry?"

"A 13 or 14-year-old boy can also feel that 'most of my close friends are gone'? Your close friends are only 13 or 14 years old, and there have been no natural disasters or man-made disasters such as mountain torrents or earthquakes, so how can they be gone?"

"I'm afraid that the students and scholars of the entire Huaining County are worried that I will examine their top-ranked talents in this way, so in order to cover up his masterpiece of a line of egrets flying into the sky beside the ancient road outside the long pavilion, they all worked together to help the top-ranked talent to create this poem. It's a pity that the poem is hopeless. The combined efforts of the entire Huaining County can only produce such a weird poem..."

"I guess I copied it from somewhere else..."

"I also feel that it was copied from somewhere else. I wonder how much money was spent on it. How can a teenager come up with such a poem?"

"This kid must be crazy about becoming famous. He must have emptied his family's savings to buy this poem..."

At first, people were not very loud, just tentative doubts, but unexpectedly, many people were questioning, so the communication sparked and the voices became louder. At first, everyone questioned the name of the ci tune of this poem, and then questioned the content of the poem.

"Did you write this poem?" Zhou Xuezhen, who had been unable to take his eyes off the poem for a long time, finally took his eyes off the poem, but he had a lot of questions in his mind. He couldn't help but look up at Zhu Ping'an, staring into his eyes, and asked loudly.

Before he met this young man, Zhou Xuezhen had heard people talk about his poem "being bitten by a snake and hearing the cry of a bird" and his various behaviors of eating, drinking and sleeping during the county examination. His heart was filled with anger and he also sketched out an image of the young man in his mind: a fat head, big ears, and a completely incompetent appearance.

However, when he met this young man, he found that he was a simple and honest farm boy, but he looked like he had never seen the world and was always greedy. He completely wasted his parents' hard-earned money, which made him very disgusted.

When everyone was laughing at him just now, this young man was calm and composed without any fear of fame or disgrace, which surprised him a little.

When he held the pen in one hand and twirled his sleeve with the other and started writing with ink, and the poem passed into my hands, my surprise was no longer just a little bit, but full.

What kind of boy is this? Questions kept coming up one after another, and Zhou Xuezheng couldn't help himself.

All the poems of the Qing Dynasty, the Republic of China and even the modern times were "written" by me. No matter which one of them has not appeared in this world yet, they will be the first to come into this world through my hands. I am the first one to launch them, so how can they not be mine.

"Yes, I am not good at poetry. This poem took me several months to conceive." Zhu Ping'an answered frankly and modestly, without any arrogance, just like a simple young man.

"Some people question the name of this ci tune. How do you explain it?" After listening to Zhu Ping'an's first answer, Zhou Xuezhen immediately raised another question.

After hearing Zhou Xuezhen's question, everyone upstairs was very interested and wanted to see how the young man would answer.

Because there is really no corresponding ci tune name for Zhu Ping'an's "Farewell".

"As I said just now, I am not good at poetry. The ancients' ci tunes all have a fixed tune structure, and when writing ci, you have to write lyrics according to their tunes. I tried several times, but I was not satisfied. Either the ci didn't fit the tune, or the tune didn't fit the ci. One day, I accidentally read "Ruan Lang Gui" by Xin Qiji, a great poet in the Song Dynasty, and I was quite impressed by the second half of Ruan Lang Gui. So I separated the second half of the ci tune "Ruan Lang Gui", slightly adjusted the rhythm, and deliberated for several months before writing this "Farewell". I am not good at poetry, and I apologize for the inappropriateness of Mr. Zhou."

Zhu Ping'an dared to use "Farewell" by Master Li Shutong of the Republic of China here. He had already thought of the words in his mind. How could he do it without any purpose

So Zhu Ping'an answered fluently, without saying a word or being arrogant, and his words were firm and sincere.

After all, they were all well-read, and Xin Qiji's "Ruan Lang Gui" was no stranger to them:

The lights in front of the mountain are about to dim, and clouds are coming and going on the top of the mountain.

There are several villages within the sound of quail calls, and I meet old friends in Xiaoxiang.

Waving the feather fan, straightening the silk scarf, the young man is riding a horse covered in dust.

Now I am haggard and trying to call back my soul, and many scholars have misled themselves.

The second half of the poem is exactly the same as what Zhu Ping'an said, "Waving the feather fan, straightening the silk scarf, the young man was covered in dust from riding a horse. Now he is haggard and writes a poem to summon his soul, and many scholars have misled themselves." Except for the slight difference in the rhythm of the tones, it is indeed the second half of Ruan Langgui's poem.

Generally speaking, ci refers to the lyrics of a song, and cipai is actually the name of a music score with a fixed form and modal structure. Writing ci means putting ci into a fixed music score, so writing ci is also called filling ci. Cipai is not born, but also has its origin and development process. Therefore, although Zhu Ping'an's farewell song based on the second half of Ruan Langgui is a bit bold and ridiculous, it is also acceptable.

"Well, although it is inappropriate, we are not pedantic. This poem is fresh and unconventional, and it does not fall into the cliché. However, how can you explain the half-friends who are gone and the remaining joy over a pot of muddy wine? You are still young, how can you explain the half-friends who are gone and the remaining joy over a pot of muddy wine?"

Zhou Xuezhen temporarily let go of the idea of the tune, but questioned the words in Zhu Ping'an's farewell poem.

"Mr. Zhou, you can see my current situation. I have many friends but no one is my close friend. Otherwise, why would I write such a joke? My childhood friends are now either working as farmers or working as hired servants in wealthy families, struggling to make a living. Thinking carefully, I can't help but feel that my close friends are gone. As for the idea of drinking a pot of muddy wine to end my remaining happiness, I am just pretending to be sad in order to write a new poem."

Zhu Ping'an bowed in the direction of Zhou Xuezhen, and a lonely expression appeared on his honest face.

Upon hearing this, Mr. Li and Mr. Zhao, who were sitting next to Zhou Xuezhen, nodded and agreed with Zhu Ping'an's statement. They felt it as soon as they entered the room that the students from Tongcheng, Taihu and other counties were targeting Zhu Ping'an. Even the students from the same county who sat at the same table with Zhu Ping'an did not seem to be so warm to him. A boy of only thirteen years old surrounded by a group of people who were a lot older than him, it was inevitable that he would feel lonely.

"Then why did you eat, drink and sleep in the examination room?" This was almost Zhou Xuezhen's last question.

It is not wrong to eat, drink and sleep in the examination room, but that is because you are not allowed to leave the examination room for several days during the provincial examination. A county examination only lasts one day, so you can just bear with it. How can you eat, drink and sleep in this way? Even if you have some literary talent and intelligence, your attitude is too improper.

"Oh, there is a reason for this. When I was little, I was fatter, and my mother loved me very much. But when I grew up, I became thinner, and my mother often blamed herself for not taking good care of me. This boy's exam is the first time I am away from my parents, and my mother is worried and concerned that I can't take good care of myself. I thought that after leaving home, I would eat more and gain weight. When I return home, I hope that when my mother sees me for the first time, she will think that I have gained weight, so that she won't worry and blame herself. Of course, I am also a little greedy, hehe..."

Zhu Ping'an smiled naively, somewhat embarrassedly. His words were very sincere, and his eyes were full of longing for his parents in his hometown.

As soon as Zhu Ping'an said this, the entire poetry reading became much quieter. Zhu Ping'an's words, like a lamb kneeling to its mother's milk, made many students and scholars far away from home miss their parents, and also touched the older people deeply.

"Fool!" Zhou Xuezhen sighed and waved his hand to signal Zhu Pingan to sit down.