Journey To the World of Film and Television

After thinking about it, Zhou Ji and Fan Xian both relaxed, pointing at each other's slightly haggard face and laughing.

The poetry meeting in Prince Jing's Mansion can be said to be the most lively social occasion in Kyoto.

The prince is good at writing, and he will hold poetry gatherings from time to time, but after all, it involves the position of the crown prince, and the people who go to participate are some disciples with a clear purpose. There are many literati, but the female relatives of the various prefectures don't like it very much.

King Jingjun is different. Although he is the younger brother of His Majesty the Emperor, he has always aspired to be a wealthy and idle king. The prince held a poetry meeting regardless of his family, even the prince's family.

Without the separation between the family and the court, and only talking about Fengyue, the women's families of all the prefectures in Kyoto naturally liked the poetry meeting at Prince Jing's Mansion.

Zhou Ji and Fan Xian came together, and from a distance, they could see the long queue at the gate of Prince Jing's mansion. Prince Jing's son Li Hongcheng stood at the gate as if he was waiting for someone.

Fan Ruoruo was thoughtful, frowning and said: "Yesterday my brother confronted the prince's disciples in the street, today the second prince's friend Prince Jing greeted him at the door, I think I want to use this poetry meeting to attract my brother."

"It's none of my business for the two brothers to fight over the family property?" Fan Xian pouted, "I'm just here to find my dick girl, and I don't care about anything else."

Zhou Ji looked funny, but didn't say anything.

Talking yesterday, he had some reservations. He only explained that he traveled through time in 2012 and did not tell Fan Xian about "Celebrating More Than Years". Anyway, the current world is different from the novel in his memory. To conceal the truth from Fan Xian Not necessarily a bad thing to say.

"Sister Ruoruo." Li Hongcheng couldn't help showing joy when he saw Fan's carriage approaching. He greeted Fan Ruoruo, glanced over the sword case on Zhou Ji's shoulder, and fell on Fan Xian. He said with a smile, "It must be." This is Mr. Fan Xian, right?"

"It's my first visit, and I prepared some gifts for you." Fan Xian was more enthusiastic than Li Hongcheng, took a few packages from Teng Zijing, and stuffed them into Li Hongcheng's hands without any explanation. "This bag is candied fruit, this is sucrose, I don't know what seasoning this is, you can try it yourself."

Li Hongcheng didn't know how to deal with it for a while, and before the second prince asked him to convey, Fan Xian stuffed two more bags.

"By the way, I brought you two bags of persimmons on the way. You are the son of the world, and these are persimmons, so they are destined."

Li Hongcheng laughed dumbfounded, knowing that the other party was trying to block him, so he dismissed the thoughts in his heart, and pointed sideways, "Mr. Fan, please."

Entering the hall, the seats are separated by gauze curtains and thin curtains. There are two rows of young talents sitting on one side, and shadows on the other side. Presumably they are all talented women from Kyoto.

Fan Ruoruo saw a few familiar sisters, and motioned to Fan Xian, "Brother, the girls from today's poetry meeting are all sitting there, so I'll go there first."

After finishing speaking, he turned towards Zhou Ji slightly, turned and left.

Zhou Ji swept around the young talented people present, found a remote empty seat and sat down, watching with great interest the group of talented people from the capital "showing their holiness in front of others".

"Speaking of which, I haven't attended a poetry meeting yet, but I've been to a sorority meeting a few times. You're looking for your dick girl, and I'm here to join in the fun."

Zhou Ji sent Fan Xian away, and picked up the food on the table to eat contentedly.

Fan Xian laughed and scolded Zhou Ji for being disrespectful, but he didn't force Zhou Ji to follow him. After all, there were women relatives on the other side of the curtain, and he himself knew that it would be a violation of etiquette to go directly.

Today's weather is good, the wind is sunny, and Zhou Ji stayed up all night last night. After listening to some sour clichés for a while, my curiosity gradually faded, and I yawned and felt a little sleepy.

This literati fight is not as interesting as the king of thieves scolding the streets.

Like something like "Dream of Leizhou Road, come here again. It must not be that the mountain people charge high prices, and sometimes laugh at themselves...", there is also "the wine glass is thick, a gourd is drunk in spring, and a gourd of wine is heavy... "And "Dongyi's characters are all scattered, while Lai Yousi's people are still old..."

Poetry is subjective literature, unless there is too much difference, otherwise no one will accept the other at all. When two poems are put together, they basically praise each other for a few words, and then let it go.

Thinking back to the Thieves King Conference back then, when the eight great Thieves fought each other, it was a wonderful event.

Of course, the most exciting part has to be the process in which he overwhelmed the crowd with only one hand, won the leader without any dispute, and was titled Thief Saint.

Zhou Ji sipped his sake, ignoring the noise in the venue.

The wind is rushing, the sky is high, the ape screams and mourns, and the white bird flies back to clear the sand. The boundless falling trees are rustling, and the endless Yangtze River is rolling in. Wandering With Melancholy, a century on stage alone and sick. Difficulty and bitterness hate the frosty temples, and the new stop the dirty wine glass.

Poems are good poems, and elementary, junior, high and high school students have to "recite and write the full text silently". Isn't it good poetry?

Hearing the exclamations one after another, Zhou Ji couldn't help feeling a little bit exhausted. He picked up the sword box beside him and wobbled towards the outside of the hall. As soon as he arrived at the courtyard, he saw a person sitting in the pavilion in the center of the courtyard, cross-legged. Sit down, burn incense and read quietly.

Zhou Ji stopped.

He stopped not because he wanted to stop, but because a sword was pointed at him, showing his sharp edge and hiding his murderous intentions.

Looking intently, there was a person standing beside the man, holding a sword in both hands, with pride in his body.

Zhou Ji knew that the sword that was pointed at him just now was this person, and the sword and the human being were one, and this was Xie Bi'an, the ninth-rank swordsman in Kyoto.

The second prince closed the red building and chanted: "The rolling Yangtze River flows eastward, and the waves wash away the heroes. Whether it is success or failure turns heads to nothing. The green hills are still there, and the sunset is red for a few times. White-haired fishermen and woodcutters are used to watching the autumn moon and spring breeze on the river. A jug of turbid wine is happy to meet again. So many things in ancient and modern times are all laughed and talked about."

"Compared to Fan Xian's 'Wan Li's sad autumn is often a guest, a hundred years of illness alone on the stage.' I still like your Lin Jiangxian better."

The second prince lifted Liu Hai, who was on the side of his face, and Zhou Ji felt a chill when he saw it.

Why does this product look so much like an alpaca?

"The second prince praised it absurdly. This poem was written by Yang Shen, and I just recited it for him." Zhou Ji didn't doubt that the second prince would know this poem. After all, walls have ears. are likely to spread.

"You know me?" The second prince asked curiously, secretly remembering the name Yang Shen.

Zhou Ji shook his head, looked at the swordsman next to the second prince, and said with a smile, "I've heard of him."

"Ninth rank swordsman Xie Bi'an."

Xie Bi'an fixed his eyes, and his eyes fell on the sword box that Zhou Ji was carrying, and his intuition told him that the person in front of him was very dangerous, extremely dangerous.

"It seems that you are also a swordsman, do you want to fight with him?" The second prince learned about Zhou Ji's general information through intelligence yesterday, looked at the sword box on Zhou Ji's body, and then at Xie Bi'an, joked.

After the voice fell, the atmosphere in the entire courtyard also condensed.

At this time, a heartless young man with a silly smile on his face, while looking at his palm, came from the direction of the back kitchen.

The long sword was unsheathed, and a flash of light flashed across Zhou Ji's eyes. The target was not Zhou Ji but the young man who was about to enter the courtyard.

Fan Xian was still looking at his left hand stupidly, it was his wife's fault, it was his wife's hand that had been held by his wife, the gentle warmth lingered in his heart, and before he could react, he saw a cold light approaching his throat.

Fan Xian grabbed the opponent's wrist with his backhand, pushed him back three steps, and was just about to make another move when he heard an unfamiliar voice from the courtyard.

"Let him in."

Xie Bi'an stood with his sword back, and returned to the second prince's side. When he passed by Zhou Ji, although he didn't speak, the aura exuding from his body was another form of provocation.