Born a phoenix? The husband I picked up is the young emperor

Chapter 1745

At the same time, a strange story suddenly spread among the teahouses in the capital. It was exactly the same as the story of the talented scholar's death, and everyone was talking about it.

Almost all the storytellers, after clapping the wake-up stick, took the money to do the talking, "Do you know that the eldest son of the Chi family is a talented man famous in the capital, and his wife is actually a talented woman who is hidden?"

As he spoke, the storyteller pulled out an exquisite booklet with a blue cloth cover from his sleeve and said mysteriously, "If you want to find out the secrets of the Chi family, you must start with this book "Qingqing Xianhua"."

The tea drinkers came closer and saw the words "Qing Qing Xian Hua" written in Japanese font on the cover of the booklet.

The starting point of the character "青" is like a bamboo leaf with dew, while the ending point is like a swallow's tail skimming the water. There is a dot of cinnabar in the door frame of the character "闲", which looks like a faded spring couplet on the door of someone's courtyard.

The storyteller stroked the pages with his fingertips, "This collection of poems is not simple. Mr. Chu Sheng wrote the preface himself, saying that 'every word is written with blood and tears, and every sentence is written with bitterness'; he also said that 'every meal is turned into rhyme, and the daily necessities are used to write articles'. It is worth taking a serious look and reading carefully!"

He also said, "Mrs. Sesshū is even better. Each poem is accompanied by a small ink portrait - the painting is of..."

He kept the question in suspense, closed the book and said no more.

A scholar in blue clothes by the window suddenly sneered, "I'm afraid you are just trying to gain fame!"

The storyteller was not angry, but just shook his head and recited, "Kneeling all night long until my bones and blood are cold, from now on there will be no spring sunshine in the world. Alas, from now on there will be no spring sunshine in the world!"

There was a scholar in the hall who loved poetry. He felt his heart break when he heard it for no reason. He stepped forward and asked, "Can you lend it to me to have a look?"

The storyteller said loudly, "I bought this book with my own money for my collection. If you want to read it, please buy one yourself."

After saying that, someone brought up a pile of books and placed them aside.

No wonder he was so hardworking, he was selling books! The tea drinkers laughed, but they didn't hesitate to buy. After all, it was not expensive, so they bought it to read as a pastime.

The storyteller turned the pages and read more earnestly, "The dim light casts a shadow on my body, and my pillow has turned to ash."

"If the nine springs were to meet the moon of the old days, please do not let it shine on those who have not returned to the world."

"Kneeling in front of the Broken Steps at the third watch of the night, I will never dare to pick up the clear light for the rest of my life."

"Even if I cut out my heart and feed it, my gratitude and righteousness are gone, leaving only a pair of dry bones standing in the dusk."

As the storyteller read the books, they were all sold out. The storyteller was so excited because he got a commission from every book he sold.

He felt a little regretful, wondering why he only took so few books. He should have bought more. With this thought in mind, he ran out.

Those who didn’t buy it were anxious, and someone reminded them, “It’s also sold in bookstores outside, hurry up and grab it, or it will be gone.”

“Which bookstore?”

"Every bookstore has it! Go, go!"

Long queues formed in front of the bookstores and bookshops because on the eighth day after Mrs. Chi's death, many people were saying that the book "Qingqing Xianhua" published by Mrs. Huo, the eldest daughter-in-law of the Chi family, contained the answers that everyone wanted.

There are scholars who come here because of Mr. Chu Sheng's fame, there are rich girls who are obsessed with Mrs. Sesshū's humorous paintings, and there are also some sour scholars who deliberately want to oppose Mr. Chu Sheng.

They thought it must be a heretical new poem and were eager to criticize it. But when they opened it, they found it was a traditional collection of poems that was well-behaved, which left those who were ready to criticize it speechless.

Regardless, Qingqing Xianhua has captured almost the entire capital. Those who can read can read the words, and those who cannot read can read the paintings.

The elegant ones appreciate the meaning and tone of the words, while the vulgar ones chew on the secrets in the words; scholars and writers compete to comment on them, and the common people, women and children, pass on the words by word of mouth.

Storytellers got new scripts, embroiderers found new patterns, and even the peddlers walking the streets learned to sing a few lines when hawking their wares: "From now on, there will be no spring sunshine in the world. If you pass by, don't miss it..."