The Evil King Xun Fei: Don't mess with the femme fatale

However, for some reason, Hua Ruoxi's heart trembled, feeling bad.

Princess Lanxi sneered to herself: Since she knew she was poor at skills, but still wanted to make a fool of herself, that's fine, just let Brother Yun see how vulgar this little bitch is.

Concubine Zhao liked Lin Qingran's outspokenness, and asked with a smile, "I don't know how Miss Lin is going to play tricks?"

Lin Qingran's face turned red, and she seemed a little embarrassed and said: "I used to watch people juggling in the street, and I found someone wielding a sword and splashing ink to make a landscape painting. I thought it was interesting. I have practiced it a few times, but I can still make a point or two, how about today, I will perform together for everyone to see!"

He looked eager to try, like a naughty child, eager to show off his skills, and begged for the praise of the elders. Princess Zhao frowned and nodded in response.

A servant had already laid out the prepared rice paper, mixed the dye thoroughly, Lin Qingran smiled gracefully, raised her finger, and there was a sound of music, the sound of gold and iron horses came, and the wind stopped in Xuanqi.Humans and ghosts are all silent, only the ruler is jumping on the piano plate, thousands of horses are galloping at the fingertips, and the sky-shattering fight is heard, as if you are at the scene of the tens of thousands of people fighting at this time.

Everyone was amazed for a moment. Looking at the girl playing with her eyes closed, she never thought that the second Miss Lin could play such a passionate and powerful piece. Sweep away the obsessive and graceful style played by Miss Hua just now.

Not only are people intoxicated and unwilling to wake up, but even the plum trees are shaking, trembling, and resonating with the resonance. At this time, it seems that the plum trees are no longer trees, but transformed into soldiers who charge into battle.

At this moment, everyone understood that it wasn't that Miss Hua's skills were too superb, but that the sacred wood made into a pipa could attract the resonance of plants and trees.

Yun Zheng was still sipping his tea, lowering his head to cover up the corners of his mouth and the glint of light in his pupils.

Lin Qingran opened her eyes suddenly, played the pipa with one hand, and sprinkled the adjusted dye on the rice paper with the other hand, as if smearing it randomly.

At the end of the song, the pen in his hand was put away, and the surrounding was silent. In the plum garden, the wind didn't move, the trees didn't tremble, and everything in the world condensed.

Lin Qingran got up slowly, adjusted the hem of her clothes, and put on her clothes as a salute. After a moment of silence, the crowd let out a round of applause that rang out from the sky.

Princess Lanxi showed a faint smile, and praised: "Second Miss Lin's pipa skills are superb, it's really amazing, and it's evenly matched with Miss Hua, but I don't know how Miss Lin's painting skills are?"

From her position, you can see the painting on the rice paper, a mass of dense colors, you can't tell anything at all, if this can be called a painting, then it must be made by a three-year-old doll.

Lin Qingran was not afraid of being laughed at by others, so she signaled the girl to show her paintings to everyone.

"Puchi", I don't know who laughed out loud first, followed by a series of laughter, with a heart and kindness, covered his mouth, coughed twice, and comforted: "Miss Lin, play with one hand and paint with the other." , it is not easy to achieve such a state.”

Such consolation, but it is hard to hide the disappointment on the face. The rice paper seems to be able to vaguely distinguish the plum blossoms in full bloom, with a certain degree of density, and the bright moon is in the sky.

But, after all, Lin Qingran's "House of Flying Daggers" just now is too extraordinary, and looking at this painting again, no matter how you look at it, it is vulgar.

Some people lamented that Lin Qingran didn't know how to hide. If there was no such so-called painting, the song "House of Flying Daggers" alone would be enough to throw Miss Hua a few steps away. This painting would be superfluous.