Immortal Cultivation Simulation, I'm Not a Bad Woman

She glanced at the young man with the folding fan.

This man seemed to be a man of the world, with first-class martial arts skills, but this obviously could not scare her.

There were bursts of sneers in the crowd.

The young man with the folding fan on the second floor blushed, coughed twice, and pointed at Lu Zhiqiu without saying a word for a long time.

Finally, he said viciously:

"I'm Folding Fan, what's your name, young lady?"

"It just so happens that we're having a small poetry gathering on the second floor. If you're brave, why not come up and compete?"

Lu Zhiqiu smiled faintly:

"My name is Qiu Fang, and the person next to me is Xian Bo. As for your poetry gathering... it's not a bad idea to use it to kill time."

The two went upstairs.

People all like to watch the fun.

After this incident, everyone dropped what they were doing and gathered on the second floor to watch the fun.

Although everyone was wearing the same black mask.

But Lu Zhiqiu could clearly feel the gazes and curiosity behind the masks of the people.

Shaking his head, Lu Zhiqiu looked at Mr. Folding Fan:

"Tell me, what to write?"

The folding fan gentleman spread out his fan and said proudly:

"I've noticed that a Northern Wolf merchant has recently opened a shop in the East Market of the capital, and a high-ranking official has come to congratulate him personally. I might as well discuss this matter and write down my thoughts and feelings."

"How about it, are you brave enough?"

As soon as these words were spoken, the entire Meiyuezhai fell into silence.

Someone beside Master Zhe Shan quietly reminded him:

"Aren't you afraid of being convicted for writing this kind of poem?"

What this person said is exactly what everyone wants to say.

The Northern Wolf King's Court and the Dayan Dynasty have always been at odds, and war would break out almost every few years of peace.

However, in the past, no one took the Northern Wolf seriously and regarded it as a barbarian.

But in recent years, the national strength of the Dayan Dynasty has declined rapidly.

Since when, the border has suffered repeated defeats, and nearly one-third of Dayan's territory has been incorporated into the territory of Beilang.

Now Beilangren has opened a store in Kyoto, and a top official is backing him.

Everyone understood that this was a signal that the Dayan Dynasty was going to further surrender.

The folding fan gentleman folded his fan, raised his head and said:

"You are afraid, but I am not."

"The dynasty has reached a critical juncture. Meiyuezhai has the Meiyue Sect to protect it. In fact, the situation is not as tense as you think. If you dare not speak here, then I might as well throw away my mouth."

The Meiyue Sect was founded by Wu Taifu Xu Meiyue. Today, it has become one of the five sects and seven schools, and is extremely powerful.

Most of the disciples in the sect are dedicated to serving the country, and many commanders in the army come from this sect.

Therefore, what Mr. Zheshan said was actually correct.

Mr. Folding Fan seemed to be getting emotional. He glanced around and said decisively:

"Seven years ago, the annual tribute was two million, four years ago it was five million, and last year they ceded the Thirteen Prefectures of Shuoyun to Beilang. I really don't know what they're going to give this year."

"Faced with this situation, don't you even have the courage to write a poem to criticize it?"

Lu Zhiqiu was also a little surprised when he heard this.

I really can't believe that this impolite man with a folding fan is actually a righteous man who cares about his country and his people.

but.

Lu Zhiqiu suddenly discovered that Xu Xianxian, who was standing beside her, was holding her hand tighter and tighter.

His head was lowered, making it impossible to see the expression on his face.

"what happened?"

Lu Zhiqiu turned around, held Xu Xianxian's hand tightly, and asked softly.

Xu Xianxian suddenly raised his head, showing a gentle smile, and said viciously:

"It's okay, I just think that what this young master said is right."

"Sister Lu, I can't write poetry, so you have to help me curse, curse Beilang, curse the emperor, and vent my anger for me."

Lu Zhiqiu looked at Xu Xianxian deeply.

He smiled and nodded.

Then she walked to the table, found a seat, spread out paper and ground ink, and began to think carefully.

Young Master Zheshan raised his eyebrows. He didn't expect that the first person to stand up would be the woman he had ridiculed before.

He suddenly felt a little ashamed, and sat down at the table silently and began to think.

Two people took the lead.

Dozens of talented men and women immediately found a place to sit down and ponder, brewing their words.

For a moment, the noisy Meiyuezhai was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

Very rare.

An hour later.

Seventy-three people submitted their manuscripts, but twelve failed to complete them.

Playing chess makes dad warm up privately

Then, everyone posted their works on the wall and voted collectively.

Soon, the winner of this poetry competition was announced.

The Clouds Make the Way to Your Presence: Chapter 47: The Little Poet

The second floor of Meiyuezhai.

Everyone gathered around the first-place poem, marveling at it.

"Oh my god, I didn't expect the first place winner to write so well."

"If I had known that such a poem would be published at this poetry fair, I would not have started writing just now."

"Yes, yes, I have to tear up my poem right away. I can't put it next to this one. The contrast is unbearable to read."

Eighty-five people, eighty-five votes.

All votes were given to the same person and the same work.

Even the previously very proud young man with the folding fan murmured to himself:

"It's true that there are always people who are better than you and there are always things that are better than you."

"Miss Qiu Fang, I am truly convinced and willing to admit defeat. I apologize for my previous rude behavior."

The young man with the folding fan looked at Lu Zhiqiu and bowed.

Although Lu Zhiqiu had a bad impression of this person before, his bold words just now changed Lu Zhiqiu's mind greatly. Now that he has made a formal apology, there is naturally no reason for her to refuse it.

She waved her hand and said it was okay.

then.

Mr. Folding Fan said again:

"If Miss Qiufang doesn't mind, would you mind if I could try to interpret it?"

Lu Zhiqiu made a gesture of invitation.

The young man with the folding fan immediately took down the poem on the wall, recited it again, and then began to slowly analyze it.

"

Rats are digging in the Central Plains in the city, how can all the weapons and armor at the border be destroyed?

The horse neighs but the whip is still whistling, and the geese fly away, and I sigh as I hold my tablet in my hand.

The green grass on the border is fertilized by the benevolent people, and the red clouds in the north make the imperial capital visible in the distance.

To know who can take back the power of heaven, it is not by ascending to the immortal garden.

"

As the young man with the folding fan recited the poem, everyone gradually quieted down and slowly absorbed the meaning of the poem.

"[Rats Digging in the Central Plains, in the City], the beginning is a subtle irony, there are stinking rats causing trouble in the Central Plains, one in the city, one in the court. The one in the city is naturally the recent Northern Wolf merchant, and the one in the court... ahem, those who understand will understand."

"[Will all the weapons and armor at the borders be completely destroyed?]" is a question to those who blindly seek peace. The fighting at the borders cannot be quelled through compromise. Year after year of paying tribute, all we get in return is continuous oppression."

"[The horses neigh and whips still whistle, while the geese depart, sighing and holding their scepters]," the first line describes the sound of whips spurring horses on to the border, while the second line describes the geese flying north, but the figures of the high-ranking officials holding scepters are almost nowhere to be seen, as they are all busy enjoying themselves in Kyoto."

"[The border grass is green, watered by the blood of countless righteous men; the clouds of the north are red, and the imperial capital is far away.] The border grasslands are green, watered by the blood of countless righteous men; the clouds of the thirteen states of the north are red, and they gaze at the imperial capital from afar, but cannot return."

"[Who knows who can possess the power to turn the tide? It's not recruited in the Upper Garden of Ascension]," the ending asks, who can possess the power to turn the tide? In any case, it's not the meat-eaters recruited into the Upper Garden. The implication is that it's among the people, every one of us."

"The whole poem has literary grace, a sense of realm, appropriate rhetoric, and a passionate tone, yet it doesn't degenerate into empty slogans. I really can't match it."

“Rated as number one, well-deserved!”

The young man with the folding fan interpreted the poem and seemed to be infected by the emotions in the poem. He spoke more and more loudly, and finally stepped onto the desk, raised his arms and shouted, and his voice echoed throughout Meiyuezhai.

The whole hall was silent.

What followed was warm and long-lasting applause.

Xu Xianxian was naturally one of the applauding crowd.

When she looked at Lu Zhiqiu, she suddenly felt a sense of security, as if she saw her daughter finally growing up.

Even without me, Sister Lu can still shine.

On the field.

The man with the folding fan saluted Lu Zhiqiu and asked tentatively:

"If Miss Qiufang doesn't mind, could you please give us some comments on our poems? That way we can learn from them and improve ourselves."

Upon hearing this, the others also joined in the commotion.

Some people even surrounded Lu Zhiqiu, as if they would not let him go unless he agreed.

Seeing everyone so enthusiastic, Lu Zhiqiu could only smile bitterly and nod.

then.

Everyone hurriedly presented their works and stacked them up for Lu Zhiqiu to review.

"You've gone off topic since the third line of this poem. It has nothing to do with the main idea. Did you get distracted while writing?"

"This poem has inconsistent emotions throughout, and readers are confused and uninspired."

"You wrote this lyric well, a woman is as good as a man. But the first beat of the transition is a good introduction to the next part, but the connection to the previous part is not stable. It needs more polishing."

……

Young boys and girls kept standing up in the crowd to claim their own works.

Listen carefully to Lu Zhiqiu's comments.

A full hour passed and it was already dark, and the poems of the eighty or so people were finally reviewed.