Joy of Life

~ Date: ~09月20日~

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"Brushing and brushing!" Numerous gaze shots on Fan’s body. He smiled and arched his hand. He did not wear a flower headband to pretend to be an artist. After all, he was Fan Xian, not Fan Wei.

Shizi looked at him like this and almost smiled. The words that Miss Fan Jia said, he would not believe it. A ten-year-old boy might really write a good poem, but like this kind of careful poetry It should not be written. He estimated that Fan Xian wrote it last night. Today, he deliberately let Fan Ruoru come out, so it is amazing at the poetry meeting.

He didn't dislike these things, but he felt that it was a bit interesting. People who looked like a free and easy person like Fan Xian would actually write this kind of poem. Fan Xian didn't know what Jing Wang Shizi was thinking. He only knew that the poem of this former Meng Haoran was Zhang Jiuling's flattering, which was a little higher than the level of these people in the field, so he was very satisfied, at least this satisfied. The father's confession.

Guo Baokun looked at the eyes of everyone in the field, his heart was furious, and he never imagined that this "embroidery pillow" actually had such a life-saving poem. He refused to give up and sneered, "I don't know what kind of articles are there?" This is your masterpiece when you are ten years old."

The meaning of the words obviously does not believe that this poem was written by himself.

Fan leisurely sighed, thinking why some people like to force themselves to do these things? Speaking of poetry, in this world, who else is his opponent? After all, he is a monster of Li Dusu's three gods and a 5,000-year-old poetry. He smiled and said: "I have never made a proposition."

Guo Baokun saw that he had no fear of biting, biting his teeth: "That please, Fan Xiong is the leader, let the Kyoto talents also see and see."

Fan frowned and frowned, looked at the nasty guy coldly, then dropped a poem, got up and left the garden, under the leadership of the Wangfu people, went to the latrine.

When the poem came out, the earth was thrown, the whole garden was shocked, the flowers fell, and the army was swept.

After a slogan, everyone tasted the taste of it, and Guo Baokun’s face was blue and white. I don’t know what to say. At this time, Shizi would no longer care about how to take the fan in his hand, and he would not be able to comment on Fan Xianfeng’s bones. He slammed the fan and shouted:

"The wind is rushing and screaming, and the white birds fly back. The infinitely falling trees are under the rust, and the rivers are not coming. The thousands of miles are often a guest, and they have been on the stage for more than a hundred years. Hard to hate the frost, smash the new stop Turbid wine glass."

......

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"Sad, clear, boundless, inexhaustible, Wanli, autumn, guest, century, sick, alone, eternal sorrow, all in one cup of turbid wine! Good poetry, good poetry!" Shizi sighed, suddenly thought of his appearance leisurely, In fact, the father who was upset, somehow, was actually a sour heart, and he was still awkward and shook his head for a long time without speech.

Only a long time later, he only woke up to God. You are a young and old, and although you are suffering from life, how can you say that the snow is sick? This is really unsolvable and totally unreasonable. But everyone is still immersed in the atmosphere of the verse, watching the sunset, regardless of the people or the cold door, have a little life impermanence, grief often feels. Therefore, everyone inadvertently forgets the life experience of Fan Xi and the heavy and uncoordinated things in this poem.

No one doubts that it is someone else's ghostwriting. After all, this poem, non-poetry generation, can't do it. If it is a generation, everyone is not willing to do it for the emperor, let alone Fan Jiayi.

"With this poem, Fan Gongzi will not write poetry in the future, it does not matter." Jing Wang Shizi sighed. The lakeside talents are silent, knowing that today they can never make a better sentence anyway, so the whole poetry was in silence because of the poem of Fan Xian, but did not find that the author had slipped away. It is.

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In fact, this poem is not suitable for the scene, nor is it timely, but Fan Xian is really anxious, so he quickly took a shot to fight the enemy. On the one hand, it was said that the small git, called Guo Baokun, was in a hurry. On the other hand, he was really anxious. He was previously bored and drank a little more.

Pulling his trousers out of the huts, he sighed very comfortably, fastened his belt, took the towel from the hand of the next person, and wiped his hand. On the way back, he suddenly saw a grateful, glorious leaf, broken small flowers, under the high trees, in the dawn, revealing a vitality.

Fan will go back and ask the next person, can you go shopping? Of course, the next person knows that this is the grandfather of Fan Fu. Miss Fan Jia and Master Si Si have always been walking around in the palace. Naturally, they will not say no words, respectfully replied, no problem.

Fan Xian was a little happy, and he sent the next person away. He walked into the square nursery and watched it casually. He found that there was no such thing as a strange flower in the garden. Instead, he planted many of them and could not call it. The name of the plant, look very rough, it should be some wild vegetables or crops.

He was a bit curious. This Jing Wangye’s family is really different. He actually planted such things.

Walking freely in the garden, the sky is still very bright, but there are trees on the top of the head, so it seems quiet, you can hear the cheerful singing of the birds at the top of the head, all around is green and green, very comfortable. Fan Xian was able to get rid of the very boring poetry, and he was very happy. He walked around in the depths of Xiaoqu and smiled and said: "I don't want to meet a fairy sister like Duan Yu?"

"who are you?"

A person stood up from the plants and looked at Fan Leisure very curiously.

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Fan was surprised and thought that with his own ear force, he actually found the other side when he came so close. If the other party is a killer, he must be finished. This shows that after he entered Beijing, the vigilance seems to have decreased a lot.

He looked at the man in front of him and laughed at himself.

Of course, the other party cannot be Wang Yuzhen, nor can it be a white woman who is obsessed with her own thoughts. Instead, she is a flower farmer who is 40 or 50 years old. She has a **** in her hand and a mud basket at her feet. The face is in the middle, and the look in the scorpion is small. There is a panic, I want to come to see Fan Fan's dress, some awe.

Fan Xian smiled and smiled at the flower peasant. "I was shocked by the old man. I am a guest of the Wangfu. I came here by the way. I saw this garden is very good, so I went shopping."

The old flower farmer rubbed his hand twice on the clothes. He didn't seem to know how to salute. He heard that he praised the garden for cleaning up and smiled a little.

(The poetry will end here, and it may not be exciting enough, but if there are too many branches, there will be suspicion of drafting water, so that's it, of course, aftermath.)

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