Evil Master and Disciple

Master Yi did not believe that a few geniuses in poetry and prose would suddenly appear in the world.

He suspected that the young man in front of him might be Ye Feng from the Yunhai Sect who had recently become famous in the world.

However, Ye Feng claimed that his surname was Hu and that he was a casual cultivator.

This made Master Yi feel a little disappointed.

A true gentleman will not judge others by their own standards.

So Master Yi did not suspect that Ye Feng was talking nonsense.

He nodded slightly and asked the five people to sit down.

Ye Feng and a few others sat on the floor in front of two empty desks and low tables in the corner.

The seating for five is quite interesting.

It wasn't Ye Feng and Hong Jiu, two men sitting together.

Instead, Hong Jiu and Qin Chuchu sat together.

Ye Feng sat together with Yun Shuang'er and Shen Tianqi.

From the way they subconsciously sat, it could be seen that the relationship between them was actually very subtle.

There are cakes and tea on the desk.

Shen Tianqi picked up a cake and fed it to Sanzhier in his arms.

She has no interest in poetry.

Unlike my cousin Yun Shuang'er, who kept looking at those literati and poets.

The arrival of the five people was just a small episode.

Soon these scholars shifted the topic to the theme of today's poetry reading.

Studying Ye Feng's poetic style...

There are seven or eight poems and essays, among which the focus of research is on "When Will the Bright Moon Rise".

It seems that the artistic level of this poem exceeds that of several other poems.

Ye Feng sat in the corner, chewing cakes while listening to the comments of these scholars on the poems and essays of his world.

It can be summed up in four words.

Nonsense.

They studied Ye Feng's poems and essays for about half an hour, mainly listening to the comments of the dozen or so Yuezhou literary masters sitting near Mr. Yi. The others mostly talked in a low voice or listened quietly on the side.

After the study, Mr. Yi asked everyone to write a masterpiece on the spot, and the best work of the day would be selected and receive a thousand taels of silver.

A servant brought writing brush, ink, paper and inkstone and asked who wanted to write.

Everyone shook their heads and said they had no inspiration today and gave the opportunity to others.

In fact, everyone knows that in today's poetry meeting, Mr. Yi intends to promote his son-in-law and student, Sima Zhi, the teacher of Baima Academy.

That is the middle-aged scholar sitting next to Mr. Yi.

Sima Zhi had already prepared a manuscript, waiting to make a name for himself in the Yuezhou literary world today, in preparation for competing for the position of president of Baima Academy in the future.

Ye Feng heard others whispering and learned the whole story.

He chuckled inwardly.

Why does this scene feel so familiar?

That’s right, Wang Bo seemed to have encountered a similar scene when he passed by Tengwang Pavilion.

It seemed like some governor wanted to cultivate his son-in-law and had written parallel prose in advance, but Wang Bo, that young and inexperienced boy, stole the limelight.

The "Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng" became the greatest parallel prose in history.

Ye Feng felt that this was God's will.

All good things happen to me.

When the servant came to Ye Feng and others with pen and ink, ready to go through the motions.

Ye Feng waved his hand and said, "Since you are all so modest, I, a humble boy, would like to offer some advice to inspire others."

Everyone was stunned.

They started talking among themselves.

I thought to myself that these cultivators were indeed warriors who didn't know any etiquette.

Mr. Yi has done you the greatest favor by letting you in to watch the poetry reading, yet you are still reciting the poems so crazily.

Ye Feng looked at everyone's reactions, looked around at them, and asked in surprise: "Why, I... can't write?"

Sima Zhi, the son-in-law beside Master Yi, said coldly, "Today we are meeting friends through literature, so Mr. Hu can certainly write well. However, everyone present is a great writer in Yuezhou, so Mr. Hu should be more cautious and not make a fool of himself."

Ye Feng grinned and said, "I'm just a young man, and not a scholar. I'm sure you won't laugh at me if my writing is not good! Come on, clean it up..."

Yun Shuang'er and Shen Tianqi brought the tea, cakes and pastries on the desk and low table to the table next door where Hong Jiu and Qin Chuchu were sitting.

Shen Tianqi spread out the paper for Ye Feng, while Yun Shuang'er ground the ink for Ye Feng.

Ye Feng was thinking, which one should he copy?

I originally wanted to copy an ancient poem, but the most classic line from Yueyang Tower, "Mist steams over Yunmeng Lake, waves shake Yueyang City," had already been used as a stepping stone.

The other poems are also acceptable, but Ye Feng now feels a sense of ill-pleasure.

In the past, Wang Bo's parallel prose became a classic and has been passed down through the ages.

The situation today is very similar.

Naturally, we have to bring out Mr. Fan’s "Yueyang Tower Inscription" to make Mr. Fan famous in this world.

He shook his head and pretended to think for a while.

He said, "After a long journey and many sights, the water of Dongting Lake has left the deepest impression on me. Well, today, I, Meng Lang, will write a poem about Yueyang Tower."

After finishing his pretense, Ye Feng picked up his pen and began to write.

I saw the beauty of Baling from Dongting Lake. Embracing distant mountains and swallowing the Yangtze River, it stretches vastly and boundlessly, with morning sun and evening shade, a myriad of scenes. This is the grand view from Yueyang Tower, as described by those who have gone before...

If the rain is heavy and continuous, the moon does not appear for a long time, the wind howls, the waves surge, the sun and stars are dim, the mountains are hidden, merchants and travelers cannot travel, masts and oars are broken, the dusk is dark, tigers roar and monkeys cry...

In spring, the scenery is bright and peaceful, the waves are calm, the sky is a vast expanse of blue, seagulls fly and fish swim, and the shores are covered with lush green reeds and orchids. Or when the smoke clears and the moon shines brightly across the sky...

Alas! I have tried to understand the hearts of the ancient sages, and I find that they differ from the two. Why is that?

Do not be happy with things, do not be sad with yourself. If you are in a high position in the government, you will worry about the people. If you are far away in the rivers and lakes, you will worry about your king.

If we advance, we worry; if we retreat, we worry. So when can we be happy? It must be said, "Before the world worries, I worry about myself; after the world rejoices, I rejoice." ... (Let me review some junior high school Chinese...)

Many people gathered to watch Ye Feng paint with his brush.

At first, everyone was just joking around to watch the fun.

It is extremely rare for a cultivator to be able to make the Yunmeng Lake steam up and the Yueyang City shake.

How could he possibly produce any masterpiece on the spot?

But as Fan Zhongyan's "Yueyang Tower Inscription" slowly unfolded, the onlookers' expressions gradually changed from amusement to astonishment, and then to shock...

The sounds of exclamation are endless.

Yun Shuang'er and Shen Tianqi, who were sitting on either side of Ye Feng, were also staring at what Ye Feng wrote in a daze.

They all thought Ye Feng would write a poem today.

I didn’t expect it wasn’t poetry.

Especially the lines "Do not rejoice at things, do not grieve at yourself; when you are in high positions in government, you worry about the people; when you are far away in the world, you worry about your ruler.

If we advance, we are worried; if we retreat, we are worried. Then when can we be happy? It must be said, "Before the world worries, I worry about myself; after the world is happy, I am happy."

These sentences not only directly touched the heart of Yi Lao, who had retired from the capital and once held a high position, but also made the scholars present feel a lot.

The goal of scholars is to become an official, share the worries of the king, and benefit the people.

Old Master Yi trembled as he looked at Ye Feng's travel notes. Looking closely, he saw that the old master had tears in his eyes and was so excited that he couldn't speak. He could only clap his hands to express his inner feelings.