Thank you very much for the tips from the glacier dancers!

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"What?"

"Luo Xin and Lu Tingfang know each other?"

"Is it Lu Tingfang who doesn't let Luo Xin compose poems?"

"Doesn't this mean that Luo Xin and Lu Tingfang have a great relationship?"

"It's over, it's over, I just laughed, right? Will Lu Tingfang see it! ”

Luo Zhi grew his mouth, and a voice was surging in his heart: "Won't it?" ”

Jian Ming's heart was also beating violently at this time, and he was a little dazed in his heart. This time I came to make a name for myself, but I didn't become famous, but I offended Lu Tingfang.

Is Lu Tingfang something he can offend?

How good is that?

You said that you have a relationship with Lu Tingfang, but you said it earlier! What a grandson! You pockmarked son is not called pockmark, you are called a pit man!

Seeing that Luo Xin's gaze was still sharp, Lu Tingfang's heart sighed, and he glanced at Jian Ming, his heart was full of disgust. He knew that the shame in Luo Xin's heart had not dissipated at this time, and if it ended like this, Luo Xin would inevitably resent him. This couldn't help but increase his disgust for simplicity. If you lose yourself because today's events made Luo Xin a young man famous, he will definitely not be spared and concise. sighed again in his heart and said:

"Luo Xin, now you can make a poem!"

The sharpness in Luo Xin's eyes eased, and he glanced at Lu Tingfang, and gratitude appeared in his heart. Nodding slightly, he said:

"Good!"

He was about to pick up the ink strip and start grinding it, but he saw a hand stretched out next to him and picked up the ink strip and grinded it carefully. Luo Xin turned his head but saw Zhang Xun's encouraging eyes, so he smiled at Zhang Xun, and then began to search for a poem suitable for his age in his memory.

It is not easy to find a poem that is barely suitable for his age, he is destined to be unable to write some experienced poems at this age, let alone involve the feelings of men and women, and cannot be ambitious, which made him frown slightly.

"Lu Weng knows Luo Xin?" Zhou Zhixian asked curiously.

"Hmm!" Lu Tingfang nodded lightly and said, "He's a good seedling!" ”

When the words fell, Lu Tingfang said no more, the relationship between him and Luo Xin was not enough to be humane with outsiders. But the more vague he is, the more thought-provoking it becomes. Zhou Zhixian nodded slightly, and then didn't ask more, but just kept Luo Xin in his heart.

At this time, Zhang Xun had already finished the ink and took half a step back. Luo Xin slowly picked up the pen. At this time, he had already selected a poem, which was written by Chen Jiru, a calligrapher and painter in the Ming Dynasty.

Chen Jiru, the word is Zhong alcohol, the number is eyebrows, and the elk is male. Huating people. Zhusheng, twenty-nine years old, lived in seclusion in Xiaokunshan, and later lived in East Sheshan, Dumen wrote, poetry and good writing, calligraphy Su, rice, and can paint things, repeatedly requisitioned by edicts, all with words. He is good at ink plums, landscapes, and small albums of plum paintings, natural and casual, and his attitude is sparse. On painting advocates literati painting, holds the theory of the north and the south, attaches importance to the cultivation of painters, and agrees with the homology of calligraphy and painting. There are "Plum Blossom Book", "Cloud Mountain Volume" and so on. He is the author of "The Complete Works of Chen Meigong", "The Secret Story of the Small Window", "The Tombstone of General Wu Ge", and "Nigulu".

It's just that Chen Jiru is not yet ten years old, so he naturally can't write brilliant masterpieces and poems that have been handed down. You must know that Luo Xin's previous transcribed poems and articles were not in vain, and there were strict divisions. He chose Chen Jiru's song "Climbing the Golden Mountain Under the Moon". But he is going to change it, with Chen Jiru's poems as the foundation, even if it is changed worse, it will not be bad? And he is only eight years old now, he has an age advantage, and with Lu Tingfang here, he will not be criticized.

The original text of "Golden Mountain Under the Moon" is: Jiangping is thousands of miles in autumn, the mountains are quiet and the moon is three watches, as if outside the cold smoke, there is the sound of geese in Guazhou.

This wording does not match the current situation, and Luo Xin is only eight years old, and it is impossible for him to have been to Jinshan. This needs to be changed, changed to fit the scenery here, at least it must be edged.

A few yellowed leaves fell, swirling in the wind and drifting past Luo Xin's eyes, Luo Xin's eyes lit up, and he took a pen full of thick ink and wrote on the paper:

The leaves fall in autumn!

Zhang Xun's eyes on the side were bright, not to mention the artistic conception of this poem, just buttoning the word autumn is already in line with the season of this literary meeting. Immediately he chanted loudly:

"The leaves fall in autumn!"

Lu Tingfang, Zhou Zhixian and Shanye Jushi's eyes moved slightly, just a poem would not make their hearts flutter, just an eight-year-old child can write this sentence, which is already commendable.

Feiyan's gaze shrank, Haizheng's cold snort already frightened her, Lu Tingfang's words made her even more unprepared, and when she heard Zhang Xun's chanting again, her color changed. If this Luo Xin is also a child prodigy......

Her heart at this time was deeply regretful, and she was still flustered.

Haizheng also glanced at Luo Xin in surprise, he didn't expect Luo Xin to be able to write such a poem, I don't know what will happen next?

Jian Ming's expression did not change in the slightest, he was still thinking about offending Lu Tingfang, and he didn't pay attention to this poem at all. An eight-year-old child can make such a poem is already at the limit, and the next must be inferior.

Luo Zhi didn't react, his level in poetry was not very good, and he couldn't hear good or bad. It's just that Luo Xin was able to write a sentence, and I was a little surprised in my heart.

At this time, Luo Xin had already opened his mind, and the second sentence was written.

Lin Jing's Mid-Autumn Festival!

Zhang Xun almost shouted "good", and the poets on the scene today have not yet deducted the word Mid-Autumn Festival. This is not to blame these scholars, the poems about the Mid-Autumn Festival have been written by the Tang and Song dynasties, and after the Song Dynasty, there are almost no poems about the Mid-Autumn Festival. Immediately chanted excitedly:

"Lin Jing's Mid-Autumn Festival!"

"Good!"

There were a few scholars in the crowd who couldn't help but cheer, it was Lu Tingfang, Zhou Zhixian and Shanye Jushi also nodded slightly, Haizheng's eyes lit up, and his gaze towards Luo Xin showed sympathy. Jian Ming finally looked at Luo Xin squarely, and there was a hint of surprise in his eyes. Zhou Yu's eyes showed expectation. Feiyan's gaze revealed a hint of uneasiness, and Luo Zhi's gaze was a little dazed.

Buckled up the Mid-Autumn Festival! The Mid-Autumn Festival poems have been written in the Tang and Song dynasties, and few people in the Ming Dynasty have been able to write excellent Mid-Autumn Festival poems!

It's like a cold smoke!

Luo Xin wrote the third sentence, this sentence he did not change, used the original sentence. Zhang Xun on the side sang with a flushed face:

"It's like cold smoke!"

"Good!"

This time it was Zhou Yu who cheered, and then there was a cheer. Jian Ming's face was like ashes, and he knew that he had lost the adult this time. His poems are definitely not as good as Luo Xin's poems. He was a showman who was forced to be pressed under two boys, and he was still ridiculing Luo Xin just now, if Luo Xin only deserves to play with mud, what is he?

I'm afraid that from now on, he will become a joke of Shilin.

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