The next morning, light snow scattered among thousands of streets and hundreds of yards. The towering Chang'an was like a giant beast lying on the snowy land. The road to the five lakes and seas was the hair on the giant beast, connecting every corner of the territory of thousands of miles.

There was still a month before the end of the year. Song Yufu walked out of Wenquyuan, holding a stack of books in her hand, and looked up at the snowflakes falling from the sky.

The New Year is coming soon. After a few days of the Dragon Song Poetry Festival, her father, the pine and cypress, would inevitably go through the motions. But her father felt that "literati poetry is like a martial artist, and it can be cultivated by his fancy skills, but it is difficult to maintain peace." He never looked at the talented man who was fighting for the poems at the poems. All these trivial matters were left to her.

Song Yufu is a woman who is unable to become an official in the future, so she naturally doesn't care about the saying "A little talent in poetry, a great talent in governance". She is content to see a few pleasing poems.

But in the past few days, she couldn't get interested, and I don't know if it was because of Prince Xu.

Prince Xu has been in Chang'an City for a year and has been in the Imperial College for very little time. When she comes, she stays alone in the Bell and Drum Tower. In the past, she passes by at most and has not negotiated much.

But a few days ago, Prince Xu stood up for the wolf guards and taught Xiao Ting a rude look, which made her a little curious about this noble extravagant prince.

She is obviously a very calm and wise gentleman, why do she always show off her arrogant appearance? She forced her to copy books and throw her around and scare her? Maybe she was too much talk and annoyed Prince Xu. After a few days of contact, Prince Xu was not very fierce...

Song Yufu was thinking randomly, stretched out her hand to catch a few snowflakes, and her appearance in the collar of her jacket, skirt, swept across her neck, as if her heart was itchy.

Song Yufu looked at the bell and drum tower standing in the middle of the Imperial College. After hesitating for a moment, she walked over with her steps. Although she knew that Prince Xu would definitely ask her to copy books after she passed, she was still curious about what kind of person Prince Xu was. Just copy books...

The Bell and Drum Tower is a very solemn place. The "Don't Forget Bell" above represents Da Yue's hardships that have endured humiliation in a small place. No one comes here and it is very quiet.

Song Yufu was a little hesitant, so she walked very lightly. She walked to the room under the bell and drum tower, and was hesitating whether to say hello and how to say hello, then she heard a conversation:

"...What kind of bad poems are you buying? A few days later, the Dragon Song Poetry Festival..."

"...Little Prince, the article is natural, I got it by myself..."

...

Song Yufu was stunned and stood there quickly, with a little surprise in her eyes.

It is common for princes and nobles to buy poems and go to literary gatherings to be arty. Most of the ignorant sons in the Wenquyuan have done this. This behavior cannot be said to be a serious crime, but orthodox literati have always looked down on such people.

She didn't expect that Prince Xu, who was highly powerful and never contaminated with smoke and dust, would do such a thing. Prince Xu is the eldest son of King Su, and is the pride of heaven. He does not need this reputation as a literati at all. Why do such a ridiculous thing that is sensual?

Song Yufu's eyes showed a difficult-to-know disappointment. After thinking about it, she couldn't persuade her. She was ready to turn around and leave silently. However, the following words in the room made her stunned on the spot...

--------

The doors and windows of the small room under the Bell and Drum Tower are closed tightly.

Xu Buling sat upright in front of the desk, holding a stack of poems in his hand.

Old Xiao stood in front of him with a crutch and kept shaking his head:

"The little prince, literati are arrogant, and they are not ashamed to earn money by selling poetry. There are only a few talented men who dare to sell poetry, and they are not acquaintances, but I didn't sell them. Lao Xiao, I asked for a long time before I asked about the way and spent a lot of money."

Xu Buling frowned and looked at the thick stack of poems, feeling a little worried.

Rich children buy poetry to show off, not to make a fool of themselves. The talented people who sell poetry know the hearts of consumers very well. The poems they write are all in a normal way, and they cannot be said to be bad or not. Anyway, they can be read when they throw them out, and real literati don’t have the heart to worry about whether they buy such poems that you forget in a blink of an eye.

Xu Buling wanted to make himself famous for "stealing poetry". First of all, the poem should not be too bad, otherwise it would be unpopular. People don't care whether it was written by him. Even if they knew it was bought by him, they would not be serious about this kind of "small-blooded poetry".

Thinking of the task assigned by Mrs. Lu, Xu Buling had a headache and threw the poem aside:

"Can't buy the good ones? The word "Chang'an" is what the word "is"?"

Old Xiao rubbed his crutch and rolled his eyes: "Little Prince, don't say that the word "cover Chang'an" is enough. If you have the ability to cover the Imperial College, you won't be able to sell poetry to earn money. Why don't you write two of them yourself?"

Xu Buling thought for a while and there was only one way. Last year, Lao Xiao carved him out of the sea of ​​blood. There was nothing to be wary of, so he picked up his pen and grind it and wrote a few sentences on rice paper.

Lao Xiao knew that Xu Buling's mind was working well after he was seriously ill, but he had never seen poetry before. At this time, he stretched his neck and slowly recited it with his handwriting:

"When I was drunk, I looked at the sword with a lamp, and dreamed of blowing the horns and camps... I ended the affairs of the king and won the reputation of his life. Poor white happened!... No, no..."

Xu Buling was stunned and turned his head: "Why can't it be? I'm eighteen years old and obviously can't write this poem."

Poetry is not as simple as piling up rhetoric. Without seeing all the experiences of life, you cannot write this kind of vicissitudes and grandeur.

Xu Buling wanted others to see that he was "stealing poems", so he naturally wrote this kind of thing that was inconsistent with his age. In his opinion, this poem was completely fine.

But Lao Xiao shook his head and said seriously: "Little Prince, Mr. Xu has been in his life. If you write these sentences, you can remember your ancestors. If those literati think of this, you will think that this poem was indeed written by you."

Xu Buling frowned, but forgot about this. He thought about it and started writing:

"Whipped vines, old trees, crows... Small bridges, flowing waters, and people... The ancient road, the west wind and thin horses... The sunset is setting, and the heartbroken people are at the end of the world..."

After Xu Buling finished writing, he raised his eyebrows: "Is this okay? Is it okay? I, the prince of a vassal prince, cannot have such a miserable situation."

Old Xiao frowned and looked at him a few times, revealing a little emotion: "Last year, I hid and fled to Chang'an with His Royal Highness on my back. The scene on the road is quite similar to this poem..."

Xu Buling frowned, and for the first time I found that copying poems was so difficult.

He didn't remember much of the poem, so he thought about it for a while, so he could only write it with his pen:

"Ten years of life and death are in vain, and if you don't think about it, you will never forget it. A lonely grave that has nowhere to talk about is desolate..."

Lao Xiao looked at the neat handwriting on the rice paper seriously, and his eyes showed a little bleakness. He raised his hand and gently patted Xu Buling's shoulder:

"The princess died ten years ago because of the 'Iron Eagle Deer Fighting' incident. The prince couldn't let it go. I didn't expect that you would see it all..."

Bang-

Xu Buling slapped the brush on the table and spread his hands out, feeling helpless: "I didn't write this, I copied it, I can't even deceive you, how can I deceive those literati?"

Old Xiao sighed a long time, looked at Xu Buling's gaze, with a little relief, and it was like looking at a little brat, who finally grew up to be a man who stood alone.

Xu Buling had nothing to say, sat in front of the desk and thought for a long time before he picked up his pen and wrote:

"The wind hangs, dust and fragrance are gone, and I'm tired of combing my hair at night. Things are different and people are not enough to stop everything. If you want to speak, tears will flow first..."

Old Xiao's eyes lit up and he leaned in front of him and looked at him carefully: "Well... this word doesn't look like a man's words. It sounds like a poor woman who is so weathered and helpless... ordinary people can't write it..."

"Then I don't believe that they can't tell that I copied it..."

...

———

Outside the room.

Song Yufu's almond eyes were wide open, covering her mouth tightly, as if she had discovered a treasure, her eyes were full of shock.

My God ~

It is a casual word, and it is sophistry in style.

Veterans on the battlefield, wandering children, sad literati, and grudges from deep boudoir...

All kinds of role transformations are seamless, just like I have experienced it myself, and I can't find any fault.

This poem is not a human!

Song Yufu's eyelashes kept trembling, and she wanted to rush in and read the poems now.

But as soon as the thought arose, she stopped again.

Judging from the words of Prince Xu just now, he did not want to become famous, and he also wanted to remember the bad reputation of "stealing poetry".

Although she didn't understand the intention of doing this, how could she not know whether Prince Xu was stealing poetry?

Song Yufu was born in a scholarly family, and her father and brother were both great scholars. How could she sit and see people with real talents and knowledge disgrace?

Now that I go in, Prince Xu knows that she eavesdrops, he will definitely not go to the poetry meeting.

That……

Song Yufu narrowed her eyes slightly, and a bit of cunning appeared in her bright eyes...

--------
Chapter completed!