Huang Jin, who came to pass the note, was not surprised at all by Yuan Wei's wave, this Yuan Wei has always been quick-witted, in the past, the saint sometimes sent out a piece of paper in the middle of the night, Yuan Wei always raised his pen to stand, and he was very liked by the saint.

At this time, seeing Yuan Wei swinging, Huang Jin showed a satisfied look on his face, and then paced over to watch Yuan Wei's masterpiece.

The words go dragon and snake, vigorous and powerful, in one go, and the calligraphy is very exquisite. The literary style is good, the poems are also the best works, which can be called excellent, but the good is good, the calligraphy can be called a masterpiece, and the literary style can be amazing, but there is not much impulse in the appetite, but it is a pity.

"Lord Yuan has a heart." Huang Jin remained silent and nodded to Yuan Wei.

After receiving Huang Jin's appreciation, the arrogance on Yuan Wei's face was even stronger, and his chin was raised by more than forty degrees

After Yuan Wei finished writing, others also began to write gradually, and the next one to finish writing was Li Chunfang, like Yuan Wei, Li Chunfang often wrote green words to Emperor Jiajing, and his poetry writing skills in Hanlin Academy have increased these days:

Fresh bamboo shoots in the suburbs of Beijing take advantage of the anchovies, and cook them in the spring breeze in early March.

Only the perch can be eaten, and the gods are also eating fish.

Compared with Yuan Wei's poems, Huang Jin's expression was slightly richer when he finished reading Li Chunfang's poems, but he still felt a little sorry in his heart.

"Master Li has a heart." Huang Jin nodded, unable to see his emotions.

After Li Chunfang finished writing the poem, everyone else also finished writing a poem one after another. Zhang Juzheng and Zhang Siwei also wrote a poem each.

Zhang Juzheng's poems are definitely the best works:

The dragon king knows the beauty of the fish, and the mountain god feels the fragrance of bamboo shoots.

Sweet brewed white jade cup, half full taste is especially long.

Zhang Siwei did not live up to his literary brilliance. It was also immediately followed by Zhang Juzheng who wrote a good work.

All the Hanlin here have basically written a masterpiece, and only Zhu Ping'an has not written at present. Zhu Ping'an was born as a champion, but at this time, he had not yet put pen to paper, and everyone couldn't help but turn their eyes to him.

Could it be that Zhuang Yuanlang was stunned when he received the proposition of the saint for the first time?

Huang Jin also set his eyes on Zhu Ping'an at this moment, if he said that he had high hopes for anyone this time, it would be Zhu Ping'an. Last night, it was Zhu Ping'an's poem on the wine table that made Shengshang eat two more bowls of rice.

In fact, when he saw Emperor Jiajing's small note, Zhu Ping'an's first reaction was the food poems created by those foodies he saw in modern times, and his joke last night was one of the food poems he had seen on the Internet. It is said that when I saw these poems in modern times, I had a great appetite, and even the old godmother saved more food from eating instant noodles than when I saw China on the tip of my tongue.

But the only problem is that I don't know if it's acceptable in this day and age, and it's for the most powerful people in the world.

"Why hasn't Zhuangyuanlang started writing yet?" Huang Jin asked.

"Dare to ask Huang Gong. What are the limitations of poetry? Zhu Ping'an did not answer. Instead, he asked Huang Jin a question.

"Without him, just appetize." Huang Jin shook his head, and then added meaningfully: "Don't worry about it, just write whatever you want." ”

This is something to say, but I like it, Zhu Ping'an nodded slightly and had an idea, if you write according to the convention, your literary style is not as good as Yuan Wei, Li Chunfang, and Zhang Juzheng. And to be honest, I really don't have much appetite for reading their poems.

Think about it. Emperor Jiajing lost his appetite and couldn't eat, the purpose was to be appetizing, as for the style or something, anyway, I asked, Huang Jin said no; In addition, even if the style is not good, it will only cause a few laughs at most, and it seems that it is not bad to make Emperor Jiajing laugh twice.

Face?

Ahem, that thing is worth a few bucks, and it's quite tiring to wear.

After Zhu Ping'an thought clearly, he hooked the corners of his lips, lifted the brush with a sense of joke, and dipped the ink in the inkstone.

For a while, everyone focused their attention on Zhu Ping'an's thick ink tip.

The pen is handsome, and the pen is steady, but what does it mean for you to stop motionless on the paper?! After everyone watched Zhu Ping'an lift the pen, dip the ink, and put down the pen, they waited to see the poem written by Zhu Ping'an, but at this critical time, they saw that Zhu Ping'an put the pen on the paper and there was no follow-up, and he didn't move, as if the fire had been extinguished.

What, this is nervous and confused?

Embarrassed by the big responsibility, it was in vain, Yuan Wei looked at Zhu Ping'an's gaze, and the disdain was even stronger.

"Ahem, I bothered Huang Gong, and I took the liberty of asking, what does the imperial dining room want to eat for the saint today, lest it mess up the saint's eating arrangement."

Zhu Ping'an's voice sounded about half a second after he put down the pen.

When Zhang Juzheng heard this, he couldn't help but look at Zhu Ping'an twice, he was thoughtful, why didn't Zhu Ping'an think about it!

Others seem to feel the same way.

"Your Majesty fasted and ate vegetarian for a long time a few days ago, and the imperial dining room wanted to make more meat to replenish the qi and blood of the saint."

Huang Jin looked at Zhu Ping'an's eyes and admired it, he was very satisfied with Zhu Ping'an's carefulness, and he could put himself in the shoes of the saint, rather than simply holding the mentality of completing the task, such a courtier is the courtier that His Majesty appreciates.

Oh, eat more meat.

Zhu Ping'an nodded, and then the brush in his hand began to dance, without adding points, in one go:

No bamboo makes people vulgar, and no meat makes people thin.

Not vulgar and not thin, braised pork with bamboo shoots.

At first, everyone was shocked by Zhu Ping'an's superb calligraphy, Zhu Ping'an's calligraphy can be said to be the best in the Hanlin Academy, but when Zhu Ping'an finished writing the poem, everyone was stunned. Uh, this is limerick? But it's a little more elegant than limericks. Zhu Ping'an's limerick poem uses Su Shi's poem: I would rather eat no meat than live without bamboo. No meat makes people thin, and no bamboo makes people vulgar. Two sentences were taken from Su Shi's poem, but they were added to it as a poem.

Regardless of the literary style, seeing this poem does make people have a strong urge to try this good and not thin braised pork with bamboo shoots, which is very strong.

However, if it is a paper, Zhu Ping'an's poem cannot be compared with Yuan Wei and Li Chunfang, which is also called poetry? ! After thinking about it for so long, he wrote such a poem, and Yuan Wei and several others looked at Zhu Ping'an with disdain.

"Actually, I love food, and sometimes when I read ancient poems, I can't help but think of food, and then I try to make some interesting sentences. Pretty much like this. Zhu Ping'an smiled a little embarrassed as he spoke, and then picked up his pen and wrote it to everyone:

The old man left the Yellow Crane Tower in the west and traveled thousands of miles to buy fish heads!

Jun asked that the return date is not due, braised eggplant oil stewed chicken.

Once the sea was difficult to water, fish-flavored shredded meat with chicken legs.

It's hard to say goodbye when you meet, don't put salt in steamed crabs.

After Zhu Ping'an finished writing these few sentences, an uproar sounded all around, accompanied by whispered words such as nonsense and nonsense. If Zhu Ping'an's poem can still be called a poem at the beginning, the one written later cannot be described as a poem at all, and it is a limerick poem to elevate it.

Jun asked if there was no return date, what is the braised eggplant oil stewed chicken. (To be continued.) )