Song Ergou followed and shouted: "This is the biggest, smoothest, and cleanest table you can find."
Fang Zheng said helplessly: "Well, if this poor monk wants to write, he can do it anywhere. This table is actually a good table..."
"It's okay if you think it's okay. Who... do you think it's okay? If it's okay, hurry up. If it's not okay, there's no need to change it." Song Ergou shouted.
Ouyang Huazai didn't even look at Song Ergou. He patted the table and said to Yang Ping, "Okay, thank you for your hard work."
The table was ready, people from the village also came, and the scene became more lively, but some people were unhappy, and that was the people from the Calligraphy Association. Because Song Ergou knew that these people were from Ouyang Huazai's side, he immediately led the villagers, carried forward his gangster style, and ridiculed them. One moment he was comparing the length of his pants with this one, and the next moment he was comparing his hairstyle with that one, which made a group of literati so angry that they almost cursed them.
Here, Wang Yougui, Tan Juguo, Jiang Songyun and others arranged the competition venue, while Cai Fang, Jing Yan and others set up the cameras. The game was held in such a hurry in the ice and snow.
Fang Zheng originally planned to help, but was rejected. In Jiang Songyun's words, everyone can rest assured if they take action.
Fang Zheng rolled his eyes. It was just a calligraphy competition. How could he cheat
Fang Zheng was also happy to relax and just watched from the side.
Finally, a little girl came over, looked at Fang Zheng curiously, and asked, "Are you really good at writing?"
Fang Zheng looked at the little girl, nodded and said, "Amitabha, donor, this poor monk can't write."
"Uh... Then, are you still competing in calligraphy with my dad?" The little girl was Ouyang Fenghua, looking at Fang Zheng blankly.
Fang Zheng was stunned. He didn't expect that this girl turned out to be the daughter of his enemy. But after all, he didn't look coldly at Ouyang Fenghua. He just smiled indifferently and said: "The poor monk's handwriting is too ugly, I'm really embarrassed to use it." Come out and say you can write."
Fang Zheng said this very calmly. He had seen real dragon and Buddha documents. They were Buddha's calligraphy. That kind of majestic feeling was shocking! Compared with Buddha's words, his words are not as good-looking as a piece of shit.
Seeing what Fang Zheng said so frankly, Ouyang Fenghua really believed it. He shook his head slightly and said, "You are so bad at writing, why do you have the nerve to hype it up? Hey... To be honest, I don't think highly of you. My father is a famous calligrapher in the city. I have won first place in several calligraphy competitions in the city! There are hundreds of students..."
Ouyang Fenghua muttered many things about Ouyang Fenghua's great calligraphy, while Fang Zheng listened with a smile the whole time.
He didn't know if he could win, but he just wanted to have fun anyway. How boring it was in this winter! As for winning or losing? It's good to win, it's good to have a reputation. It doesn't matter if he loses. He is a great calligrapher, but he is just an unknown little monk. Who would laugh at him? Even if it's a joke, Fang Zheng doesn't know it. Could it be that the other party would go to the temple gate and scold him
Ouyang Fenghua was so happy when he said that, a calligrapher from the Montenegro Writers Association came over and said, "Fenghua, don't tell him. What can a monk from a small temple know about calligraphy? If he wins, I will The table is eaten!”
Fang Zheng glanced at this man. He was not tall, about 1.7 meters tall, with average appearance, but with a sense of arrogance. This arrogance is not only directed at Fang Zheng, but also when looking at people from the Songwu County Writers Association. Obviously he looks down on people from small places at all. This is a arrogant master with a passive skill of ridicule.
Fang Zheng smiled slightly and said nothing, but he remembered what this man said.
Ouyang Fenghua smiled and said: "Liang Yukuan, you said this yourself. Don't regret it when the time comes."
"A man, do what you say!" Liang Yukuan said confidently, and then said to Fang Zheng: "Little monk, if I were you, I would close the door and not participate in this competition. Although there is a bad reputation for skipping the competition, it is still better than the competition. Losing is strong.”
The Clay Bodhisattva still has three points of anger, let alone a young man with strong blood? Fang Zheng smiled slightly and said, "There is no need for the donor to worry. The donor should prepare some stomach strengthening and digestion tablets."
"My stomach and intestines are fine. What do I need?" Liang Yukuan asked instead without responding.
Fang Zheng smiled and said nothing, but Ouyang Fenghua laughed and pulled Liang Yukuan away.
Soon, preparations for the competition were over. As the president of the Black Mountain Calligraphy Association, Jiang Songyun was naturally qualified to be the referee. As a veteran and the president of the Calligraphy Association of Songwu County, Sun Xianying is also qualified to be a referee.
As for the others, they were just watching.
For such a refereeing system, Founder is indifferent. Although the fat man had objections, it was useless. There is a specialization in the art, and no one else can be the referee.
While they were talking, Fang Zheng and Ouyang Huazai were both brought to the table. Sure enough, rice paper had been spread out on the table, and pens, inks, paper and inkstones had been placed.
On Ouyang Huazai's side, Cui Jin was responsible for grinding ink. Ouyang Huazai stood proudly with his hands behind his back, looking up at the sky, as if there was no one but himself in his eyes.
Seeing this scene, many people nodded secretly and commented: "He is indeed a calligraphy master in the city. His every move and demeanor are indeed extraordinary. It feels a bit like being cold at a high place."
"I can't say that it's hard to live in high places. After all, there are masters who write better than Mr. Ouyang. But here, no one can compare to him. It's true."
"Hey, I just want to know if the little monk has the courage to continue writing after seeing Mr. Ouyang's words."
"I guess if Mr. Ouyang makes one move, he will have to admit defeat."
…
Everyone said they were muttering, but in fact the voice was quite loud. Fang Zheng and Ouyang Huazai could hear it clearly. Logically speaking, noisy writing is taboo. But Jiang Songyun, the referee, had no intention of stopping him. Instead, he looked indifferent, as if he hadn't heard anything. Sun Changying frowned, hesitated several times, and finally said nothing.
It's not that Fang Zheng doesn't know calligraphy. Seeing this scene, he felt a little cold: "These people can't treat a small calligraphy competition fairly. With such a state of mind, it would be weird if there could be a master. No wonder there are no masters in China. I feel sick." Yes, you are really sick!"
However, Fangzheng was not affected. There was no gain or loss, so there was no pressure. He stood there quietly, waiting for the competition to begin.
Fang Zheng wears a moon-white monk's robe. The moon-white monk's robe can amplify his own good mentality and temperament. His heart is peaceful, and the temperament he exudes when he stands there is completely different from Ouyang Huazai!
Ouyang Huazai is sharp and sharp, while Fang Zheng is neutral and peaceful. Anyone who sees him will subconsciously feel peaceful and feel comfortable and calm from the heart.
(End of chapter)