The prince is very fierce

The next morning, light snow fell on thousands of streets and hundreds of squares. The majestic Chang'an looked like a giant beast lying on the snowy field. The roads leading to all corners of the country were the hair on the giant beast's body, connecting every corner of the thousands of miles of territory.

There were still a few months before the New Year's Eve. Song Yufu walked out of Wenquyuan, holding a stack of books in her hands, and looked up at the falling snowflakes from the sky.

The New Year is coming soon, and her father, Song Baiqing, will have to go through the motions at the Dragon Poetry Recital in a few days. It's just that her father felt that "literati's poetry is like a martial artist's embroidered fists and legs. It can nourish one's character, but it is difficult to stabilize the country." He never looked down on the talented people who competed for the top spot in poetry gatherings, so he left all these trivial matters to her to take care of.

Song Yufu was a female prostitute and would not be able to be an official in the future. Naturally, she didn't care about the saying that she was a "little talent in poetry but a great talent in political affairs." She was content with just reading a few pleasing poems.

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

Xu Shizi has been in Chang'an City for a year. He has spent very little time in the Imperial College. When he came, he stayed alone in the Bell and Drum Tower. In the past, she would only pass by him without much negotiation.

But a few days ago, Prince Xu stood up for the Wolf Guard and lectured Xiao Ting, who was looking rudely, which made her a little curious about this high-ranking prince.

He is obviously a very calm and sensible gentleman, but why do he always show off his domineering appearance to others... He forces her to copy books, throws her around to scare her, maybe he talks too much and annoys Prince Xu. After a few days of contact, Prince Xu is actually not very fierce...

Song Yufu was thinking wildly and stretched out her little hand to catch a few snowflakes. The collar of her coat swept across her neck, and her heart seemed to be itching.

Song Yufu turned her eyes and looked at the Bell and Drum Tower standing in the center of the Imperial College. After hesitating for a moment, she walked over with graceful steps. Although she knew that Prince Xu would definitely let her copy the book in the past, she was still curious about what kind of person he was. If you want to copy books, just copy books...

The Bell and Drum Tower is a very solemn place. The "Don't Forget Bell" on it represents Dayue's hardships of enduring humiliation for hundreds of years in a small place. Usually no one comes here, so it is very quiet.

Song Yufu was a little hesitant, so she walked very lightly and walked to the room under the Bell and Drum Tower. When she was hesitating whether to say hello or how to say hello, she heard a burst of conversation:

"...What bad poem did you buy? There will be a dragon poetry meeting in a few days..."

"...Young prince, the article was written by nature, and it was accidentally acquired by a good hand..."

…

Song Yufu was stunned and stood there quickly, with a bit of astonishment in her eyes.

It is common for princes and noble sons to buy poems and go to literary fairs to be arty. Most of the sons of rich men who are ignorant and unskilled in Wenquyuan have done this. This kind of behavior cannot be said to be a heinous crime, but orthodox literati have always looked down upon such people.

She didn't expect that Xu Shizi, a high-ranking and powerful person who had always stayed away from the dust, would do such a thing. Prince Xu is the eldest son of King Su. He is a proud son of heaven. He doesn't need the reputation of a scholar at all. Why would he do such an arty and ridiculous thing?

There was imperceptible disappointment in Song Yufu's eyes. After thinking about it, she couldn't dissuade her. She was about to turn around and leave silently, but the next words in the room made her freeze on the spot...

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The doors and windows of the small room under the Bell and Drum Towers were closed.

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

Lao Xiao stood in front of him with his cane as a counselor, shaking his head:

"Little prince, all literati are arrogant, and it is shameful to sell poems to make money. There are only a few talented people who dare to sell poems, and they are not sold unless they are acquaintances. It took me a long time to find out about Lao Xiao, and it took a lot of money. silver."

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

Rich kids 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, and the poems they write are all quite satisfactory. They can't be called dross or masterpieces. You can read them anyway, and real literati have no time to care about whether they buy such poems that are forgotten in the blink of an eye. of.

If Xu Buling wants to be known as a "poem thief", first of all, the poem must not be too bad, otherwise it will not be popular. People don't care if he wrote it. Even if they know that he bought it, they won't because of it. This kind of "tasteless poetry" is more genuine.

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

"Can't you buy a good one? Is it the same as Chang'an?"

Old Xiao rubbed his crutches and rolled his eyes: "Young prince, don't say anything about Chang'an. If you have the ability to cover the Imperial College, people will not sell poems to make money. Why don't you write two poems yourself?"

Xu Buling thought about it for a while and found this was the only way. Lao Xiao carried him out of the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood last year. He had nothing to be wary of, so he polished his pen and wrote a few sentences on rice paper.

Lao Xiao knew that Xu Buling's brain had improved after his serious illness, but he had never written poetry before. At this time, he stretched his neck and chanted slowly along with the handwriting:

"When I was drunk, I read the sword by burning the lamp, and I dreamed about the trumpet-playing camp... I finished the affairs of the king and won the reputation both in life and in life. This pity happened in vain! ... No, no, no..."

Xu Buling was stunned and tilted his head: "Why not? I am eighteen years old and obviously cannot write this poem."

Poetry is not as simple as piling up words. Without the experience of seeing all kinds of life, it is impossible to write such a sense of vicissitudes of life.

Xu Buling wanted others to see that he was 'stealing poetry', so he naturally wrote something that was inappropriate for his age group. In his opinion, this poem is perfectly fine.

But Lao Xiao shook his head and said seriously: "Young Prince, General Xu has been a soldier all his life. You wrote these few sentences to commemorate your ancestors. If those literati think of this, they will think that this poem was indeed written by you."

Xu Buling frowned, but he forgot about it. He thought about it and picked up the pen to write again:

"Withered vines, old trees, crows... small bridges, flowing water, people's homes... ancient roads, west wind, thin horses... setting sun, heartbroken people at the end of the world..."

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

Lao Xiao frowned and looked at him for a few times, revealing some emotion: "Last year, I was ambushed in the Wei River. I hid and fled to Chang'an carrying the prince on my back. The scene on the road was quite similar to this poem..."

Xu Buling frowned. For the first time, he found that copying poems was so difficult.

He didn't remember much of the poem, so after thinking for a while, he could only pick up the pen and rewrite it:

"Ten years of life and death, I can't forget it without thinking about it. A thousand miles away, lonely grave, nowhere to talk about the desolation..."

Old Xiao looked at the neat handwriting on the rice paper carefully, his eyes showed a bit of desolation, raised his hand and gently patted Xu Buling's shoulder:

"The princess died of depression because of the "Iron Eagle Hunting Deer" incident ten years ago. The prince has never let it go. I didn't expect that you, the little prince, saw it..."

Pah——

Xu Buling slapped the brush on the table and spread his hands helplessly: "This is not written by me, I copied it. I can't even fool you, how can I fool those literati?"

Old Xiao sighed and looked at Xu Buling with a bit of relief, as if he was watching a little kid who finally grew up to be a man who can stand on his own.

Xu Buling had nothing to say. He sat at the desk and thought hard for a long time before picking up the pen again and writing:

"The wind has stopped, the dust has settled, the flowers have withered, and I am tired of combing my hair at dusk. Things have changed, and everything has stopped. I want to speak, but tears flow first..."

Lao Xiao's eyes lit up, and he leaned forward to take a closer look: "Hmm... This poem doesn't seem to be written by a man. It sounds like a poor woman who has experienced many hardships and has no one to rely on... Ordinary people can't write it..."

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

...

————

Outside the room.

Song Yufu's almond eyes were wide open, and she covered her mouth tightly, as if she had discovered a treasure, with shock in her eyes.

My God~

Cited poems at will, and the style is sophistry.

Veteran general on the battlefield, down-and-out wanderer, sad literati, resentful woman in the boudoir...

The transitions between various roles are seamless, as if he had really experienced it himself, and there is nothing wrong with it.

This poetry foundation is inhuman!

Song Yufu's eyelashes trembled constantly, and she wanted to rush in and read those poems right now.

But as soon as the thought came up, she stopped again.

From what Xu Shizi said just now, he didn't want to be famous, and he also wanted to bear the bad reputation of "stealing poems".

Although she didn't understand the intention of doing so, could she not know whether Xu Shizi stole poems?

Song Yufu was born in a scholarly family. Her father and brother were both great scholars. How could she sit and watch a person with real talent and learning lose his reputation?

If she went in now, Xu Shizi would know that she was eavesdropping, and he would definitely not go to the poetry meeting.

Then...

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

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Ruthless vote-seeking robot!