Three days before the end of rebirth

"You don't believe it, right? It's time to show you how powerful I am, King Wu, isn't it winter!" Li Ge said arrogantly.

Then Li Ge thought about the poems he had learned in his previous life.

Yes, this time Li Ge planned to take the poetry of the Poet Immortal Li Bai. He apologized to the Poet Immortal Li Bai in his heart, I was letting it come into the world first. Li Ge gave a reason that he did not count.

"Come here!" Fang Fengzhu shouted.

Just come here, because you can't just say what you have in mind here. I'm afraid someone will be disturbed while creating, so here you just write down your ideas, and then hand over a high platform with three people sitting on it, and let them read it out.

Let’s all taste it together.

Then Li Ge walked towards the writing room, which is where he writes poems, because he was afraid of being disturbed by others outside.

When I arrived at the writing room, there was someone at the door.

"Excuse me, sir, do you want to write?"

"Yes, can I go in?" Li Ge asked,

"Of course, this is your number. Please write down your number after you finish."

"Hmm~" Li Ge took it and looked at it. Three numbers were written on it, 957. It seems that this was because he was afraid that the work would be confused or that someone would impersonate it.

After entering, Li Ge apologized to Li Bai again,

Then he picked up the pen.

Fortunately, Li Ge's calligraphy is not bad.

After a while, Li Ge left the room.

The servants outside were stunned! So fast.

"Excuse me, sir, are you okay?"

"Well, hand it in for me." Li Ge's words surprised the servant. He was the fastest man he had ever seen. He had never seen the scholar finish a poem so quickly.

"Okay," the servant suppressed his surprise and said to Li Ge.

Then Li Ge returned to his seat.

"What? You can't write it?" Fang Fengzhu was dumbfounded at first, but then immediately laughed at Li Ge.

"What can't be written?" I have already finished writing, what do you say?

"You came back so soon, doesn't it mean you can't write it?" Fang Fengzhu retorted, and Li Yingge on the side also looked at Li Ge.

"You think you can't write it quickly, right? I've finished it." Li Ge's words stunned them. Finished it? This is too fast.

"What's your number?" Fang Fengzhu snatched the note from Li Ge's hand.

Fang Fengzhu opened it and saw 957 written on it. When she wanted to say something else, she heard the high platform above saying,

"The following is the work of No. 957!!"

When Fang Fengzhu heard this, he saw that the number 957 called out on the high platform was Li Ge's number. Did Li Ge write it down so quickly?

How is this possible? He has only been in for a few minutes.

"If you don't believe it, then listen to what it says!" Li Ge was funny. Fang Fengzhu obviously wanted to irritate herself with this matter, but she was doomed to fail.

There were three people sitting on the high platform. These three people also wore masks. No one knew who they were or whether they were young or old.

After they opened Li Ge's paper, the three of them gathered around the paper and looked at it. The more they read, the more frightened they became.

This...whose time is this? Why is it so beautiful?

The three of them stayed up there and read the poem, and for a long time they did not read the poem to everyone to enjoy together.

There is a lot of discussion below, what is going on? What happened to the three judges? Why haven't they read the poem yet? The scholars below are already impatiently waiting.

"It's not because your writing is not pleasing to the eye, so they don't dare to read it, right?" At this time, Fang Fengzhu was also curious about why they didn't read the poem yet, and said to Li Ge in a mocking tone.

"What's not pleasing to the eye? You can't say it's because the poem is so good?" Regarding Fang Fengzhu's words, Li Ge looked at her. This is what this strong woman is like.

"I believe brother Li Ge must be a good poem!" Li Yingge said with a smile.

"Look at Yingge, you are the only one who wishes me well every day." Li Ge smiled at Li Yingge, "Yingge is better."

At this time, the three people on the high platform also woke up. One of them coughed several times, and it sounded like an old man.

"Next! I will read this poem to you again," the old man said, and the discussion below suddenly stopped.

"Ahem," the old man coughed twice again. Everyone knew that this was the old man's habit of reciting poetry every time.

"The tassel of dust has not been washed away, but the grass will be smooth when you return."

"A vine path is green, and thousands of snow-capped peaks are clear."

"The ground is cold and the leaves are gone first, but Gu Hanyun can't."

"The tender bamboo invades the dense houses, and the ancient trees fall across the river."

"The white dog barks when it leaves the village, and green moss grows on the wall."

"A solitary pheasant passes through the kitchen, and an old ape cries near the house."

"The birds' nests are there, and the fences are sparse and the beasts' paths are there."

"The mouse is gone when the bed is brushed, and the fish is frightened when the basket is thrown over."

"Rinse the inkstones and make good plans, knock the loose leaves and imitate the pure ones."

"At this time, go again and go to Sanqing."

quiet,

There is silence without any sound,

It's like the silence of time standing still.

After listening to this poem, many people couldn't help but shuddered and had goosebumps all over their bodies. After listening to Li Ge's poem, everyone felt that it was a cold winter.

for a long time...

"What a poem of eternity!" the old man reading the poem sighed while standing on the high platform,

"How is it? Now you know how powerful your brother Li Ge is!" Li Ge grinned at Fang Fengzhu.

Just now, Fang Fengzhu was brought to a cold winter by this poem. It seemed like he was in the sunshine, snow peaks, tender bamboos, white clouds and nature. This feeling can only be felt in the natural mountains and rivers.

However, she felt that the last sentence in the poem should be written by Li Ge to herself.

"This...who did this!"

"Yes, it's an eternal quatrain!"

"Especially this sentence: a vine path is green, and thousands of snow-capped peaks are clear. It really makes me feel like being in a snow-capped mountain deep in the mountains."

At this time, many scholars were talking about it, praising the goodness of this poem. No one said there was anything wrong with this poem. They were joking about the poems of the poet Li Bai. Who dares to say that it is not good?

However, Li Bai hadn't finished this poem yet, so Li Ge took it over first.

"This poem can be said to be the best poem today." A female voice came from the high platform. The voice was like a silver bell, with a bit of charm in it and a bit of softness in it. At first glance, it sounded like the oriole coming out of the valley.

.

Li Ge was curious as to why there were still women on the high platform.

"Well, judging from my many years of experience, this poem can indeed be said to be the best in the audience." This is what another old man said on the high platform. Now there are three judges on the high platform who have expressed their praise for Li Ge's poem.

"But unfortunately, this poem seems to be missing something." The old man who recited the poem always felt that there was something missing from him.

The other two judges were very curious when they heard this. When they listened to the poem, they seemed not to realize that there was something missing!

Suddenly, "It's the title of the poem, but the poem is missing the title!" A voice like a silver bell sounded. When the two old men heard it, they suddenly realized, yes, the title of the poem is missing.

At this time, the people below also discovered that this poem had no title.

"Excuse me, sir, what is the title of this poem?" asked a scholar wearing a dog mask.

This?....That's it. The old man was at a loss for words. He didn't even know what the name of the poem was.

"The poet must still be down there. Why don't we ask him to come up and tell us, so that we can get to know him." said the female judge wearing a fox mask.

"What the fox said is absolutely correct, let's decide like this!" Another old judge also agreed.

"This poem has no title!" the old man said to the many scholars in the audience.

What?

The poem has no title?

Why is this?

The scholars below were discussing again, which shows their love for this poem. How can a good poem be without its title?