When Wang Chunxia received Diao Sikun's poems, she didn't immediately make a move, because she still had to find a suitable song to fill in the lyrics, but at this time, how could she be in the mood to do more? Over time, Diao Sikun, who was looking at Dengshan in the pergola, felt that the poems he had cast in the past seemed to sink into the sea.
Especially when he heard Li Fan singing Pang Chong's poems again, he was extremely disappointed with Wang Chunxia.
Cheng Xiaojin stood alone in the painting boat, blowing the river breeze. Wu Zheng glanced at him and could only sigh slightly. What Cheng Xiaojin needs at this time is not comfort, but someone who wants to be quiet.
Since Wu Mingyue wants to copy him another piece of the Qingyu case Yuanxi, as long as she doesn't think her own words are ugly, then it doesn't hurt to copy it to him by herself.
Seeing Wu Zheng nodded, Wu Mingyue graciously spread the rice paper on the small case for him, pulling the sleeves with one hand, and slowly rubbing the ink with the orchid fingers in the other.
It looks like a woman no matter how gentle and tender, but the men's dress is unclear and a little awkward.
What Wu Zheng still wrote was his Feibai, iron-painted silver hook penetrating the back of the paper, which looked very sluggish on the battlefield.
After writing a sapphire case, Wu Zheng looked at it with a pen in his hand, feeling that his calligraphy has improved a lot in the two texts before and after.
Wu Mingyue wasn’t asking what he wrote, or whether she couldn’t understand it at all. Anyway, Yuan Xi had memorized this sapphire case. All she wanted was the process of Wu Zheng’s writing to him. She can polish Wu Zheng's ink, and she can watch Wu Zheng splashing ink on the white paper up close, and the red sleeves are just like that!
The poem drying on the Wanhuatai is still going on, but at this time, no one on the bow of the boat put their minds on the lamp mountain of the fire tree and silver flower.
Jiang Yu'er alone took all the red medicine for the victory over the ceremonial department, which made her the leader of this flower party is no suspense. As for the safflower in the hands of the scholars, it was really not Jiang Yu'er who looked down on them. , One by one was born in a poor family and one by one arrogant fellow, how many flowers are left in their hands until the flower meeting goes on
As for the landlord and wealthy merchants underneath, they naturally have a lot of safflower in their hands, but none of them can not give face to the ritual department. Since the ritual department has pressed all the safflower to themselves, they can't help but express. Right! Even if you want to keep a few flowers for your own oiran, most of them have already entered your own pockets.
In other words, from now on, even if Jiang Yu'er doesn't sing a song, he will not be able to get away with this year's Tianyi leader just sitting there.
But Jiang Yu'er, who thought he would be free, was not idle, but was even busier. The original manuscript of a poem that could be found now flew towards her like snowflakes.
Those scholars are not idiots. Since Jiang Yu'er is now firmly able to go to the Baohualou and ask his Majesty to perform in front of him, then a sapphire case is definitely not enough, so all the talents now only hope that she can finish singing that. After the first sapphire case, can you use your own poems to make up the number in front of your majesty, maybe let your majesty write down yourself
Whether the next poems of the scholars are good or not, in fact, few people care about it. After all, there is Wu Zheng’s Qingyu case, which is a strong wine before, and after listening to other poems, it is just as tasteless as water wine and glutinous rice.
On the bow of the ship, I saw Wu Mingyue holding Wu Zheng's transcript with a pretty face and looked at it again.
Yin E feels that he has suffered, and Seinfeld regrets it even more. She is a true lady of the mate! Why did he write poems for others so well, but he didn't
Yin E wanted poems, and Seinfeld wanted poems too, pulling Wu Zheng's sleeves to the left and right, and Wu Zheng had no choice but to write again.
"The trees of the fire and the silver flowers are together, and the iron locks of the star bridge are opened. The dark dust will follow the horse, and the bright moon will come one by one..."
In Baohualou, Luo Qin’s poems were cut off by military commanders’ programs. Wei Changchun and Xiang Wusheng danced their swords, Jiang Junsheng’s storm pear spear, and finally came up with a few elders who didn’t have the skills, hugged them and fell violently. It was for wrestling, the little one who was rolling around and fighting.
A good night banquet suddenly became a little smoky, which made many civil servants can't help but raise their brows.
But Wu Heng watched it with gusto, and other people couldn't talk too much.
In the end, Wu Heng unexpectedly got up on a whim, and even opened a handicap upstairs in Baohua, gambling to cheer up the wine.
It's just that the wine may be a little bit more interesting. Many people actually bend their cups, throw the gentle drinking appearance, and fuck the big bowls and bottles, which is a sense of pride.
This is a rare indulgence for the generals... (End of this chapter)