Chapter 459: Wen Wu first, Wu Wu second

Everyone was shocked by Qi Fei's words!
This short section of scholars actually wants to be a poetry? Is it possible for you to make a rhythm poem? Can Li Shi make it out of a small, unknown scholar?
Due to the existence of immortals and monks, most people's bones are loose and unruly. When expressed in words, it is difficult to confine words to any rule.
Because the style of writing is so, the writing is random, and many people can't make it. The text is filled with flat rules.
Most of the poems of Xiuzhen civilization are the so-called five-character and seven-character ancient poems on the earth. They have antithesis and rhyme, but they have few fixed quatrains and five-rule patterns.
Generally speaking, only the saints, the sons, and everyone in history can make the kind of poems that have confrontation, rhyme, and are still within the rhythm.
The rest of the so-called big poets made most of them are ancient poems, with no rhythm at all.
But it is this kind of ancient poetry, as long as it is neat and rhyming, the artistic conception is better, and it can already be passed on to the world.
This is why several people were surprised when they heard Qi Fei's seven-character poems, and they didn't believe their faces.
That's what sages, sons, and everyone can write. You, a young scholar, say that you want to write poems, and that is the kind of propositional poems. How is this possible?
"Small scholar, are you sure you are not kidding us?" For the first time, the middle-aged man was serious and serious.
Qi Fei naturally knew the status of Xiuzhen ’s poems, and he laughed loudly: "Wen Wuwu is not bragging about it, Wu Wu second, so I dare to say that if you test Wuju, you can connect to Sanyuan in the next, Wen Wudi First, so I dare not say that I will try to make a certain amount of money, but should I just say poetry? Hey, in this world, I do n’t recognize anyone below, even, or even "
"Even what?" The middle-aged asked.
"I don't even think that my poems will be lower than the saints in history, Yasheng, and the hundreds of sons!"
"what?"
"How dare you say that?"
"Bold! Is this a short section of scholars really brave!"
The middle-aged man suddenly stood up from the small stool, and then everyone stood up.
The middle-aged person's face was a little cold: "Small scholar, since you dare to say such a thing, you must know that there is a decree in the dynasty that is disrespectful to the sages, if it is a poem you have made"
Qi Fei laughed: "This gentleman, the sage is respectable. Why am I disrespectful? And my poems have not been made yet, how do you know that my poems are not as good as the sages?"
Qi Fei's words caused a lot of discomfort among the people present. This short section of scholars is just the sixth in a hometown exam, and it is still a remote province. I am afraid that the talent is at least moderate. All literary talents and strategies were uttered by himself. No one knows how they are doing!
At this moment, Qi Fei suddenly sneered, and said, "Some of them didn't hear me. When you were outside the hospital, the persuasive poem I recited was a seven-word quatrain?"
"what!"
"what!"
"How come, let me think about it"
"Yeah, this is really an absolute sentence!"
"It's a quatrain, it's a quatrain!"
auzw.com At this moment, the middle-aged man's face changed rapidly. He looked at Qi Fei, expressing his tone meaningfully: "Record the persuasive poem of the scholar, and never miss a word. "
As soon as this remark was made, someone immediately called it.
Then the middle-aged person solemnly aligned the flyway: "Please also invite a small number of scholars to write poems."
Qi Fei nodded, looked at the crowd with a smile, and then touched a white pen on the table, walked slowly, and said softly in his mouth: "The love poem is untitled, it is fun, I started."
He laughed as he walked, and then his face suddenly straightened: "Here comes empty words to disappear!"
"Ah, this sentence, this sentence turned out to be a Qilu sentence!"
"Qilü could even write such a sentence? How is this possible!"
"It's really the beginning of the Seven Souls. How can such beautiful and sad sentences be written in the form of verses?"
"I, I, I" Mr. Wu, an elegant man, looks like a pot of cold water, even if the sentence of this little scholar is not the beginning of Qilu, but this sentence has already surpassed his whole poem just now.
"Okay!" The middle-aged man said suddenly, then looked at Qi Fei with a smile on his face, looking forward with a look of anticipation.
Qi Fei took a white tube brush in the void, and after making a few strokes, he said gently: "Five minutes on the upper of the moon."
Everyone was silent and began to savor the mood in the poem.
"Dream is far from crying, and the book has been urged to become a painter."
"Okay, good sentence!" The middle-aged man shouted with a clap.
"A wax picture of a half-cage gold emerald with a slightly embroidered hibiscus."
"It's so good, it's so wonderful. The poem can write such a sentence, an eternal masterpiece, ah no, an eternal masterpiece!" One person shook his head and said, but was immediately interrupted by a middle-aged man waving his hand, and then With a silent movement, he was afraid that the words of this person would disrupt the thinking of this small section of scholars and affect the birth of the last two poems.
At this moment, Qi Fei slowly walked in front of the crowd, smiled shyly, stretched out a white tube pen, pointed at the elegant man Mr. Wu, and said loudly: "Wu Lang has hated Pengshan far, even more than 10,000 heavy!"
Ten thousand heavy, ten thousand heavy, yeah yeah yeah
Everyone froze for a moment, and the elegant Mr. Wu instantly turned pale!
Either Xiao Lang or Liu Lang, both refer to Wu Lang, and Wu Lang is the same, but there is really a Wu Lang in front of you, then it is not a general reference, but a special reference!
There is no talk to disappear, Yuexian upstairs five minutes.
The dream is far from crying.
Half-cage gold jadeite with wax, musk embroidered with hibiscus.
Wu Lang has hated Pengshan far, even more than 10,000 heavy Pengshan! !! !!
The middle-aged person's expression became dull, and he muttered in his mouth: "Wu Lang has hated Pengshan far, more than 10,000 heavy, and more than 10,000 heavy."
Everyone was chanting this poem repeatedly. Mr. Wu looked at the left and then at the right, but no one went to see him at all. Suddenly, his throat was salty, and he blew blood on his mouth. Come out.
This poem by a small scholar is not a grade at all, not a grade, just like Firefly and Haoyue, and like gleam and sun. At this moment, he suddenly felt a sense of despair I only felt poetry all my life, but it was obviously a big joke.
His blood spit out and caught the attention of the people around him. The middle-aged man looked at him and said something strangely in his mouth: "Old Wu" mobile phone users, please browse and read for a better reading experience.