Tyrant, your vest fell off

Chapter 23-

"This plum painting is really good. Who made the Danqing? The drawing skills are so superb that it can be so good? Is it you? Sikong Que?"

Wencheng Lu Xue did not know when she stood behind the two of them. She looked straight at the fan with admiration in her eyes.

At this moment, everyone gathered around, chattering about the realistic green plum on the fan.

"This painting was made by Li Qingmei!"

"Oh? It's her? She's not afraid to say big words and flash her tongue? Only she is worthy of such a good painting!"

Sikong Mo had also finished drawing the fan at this time, and when he was about to show off his painting skills to the people around him, he realized that everyone's attention had already been attracted by Sikong Que.

"That's right, this maidservant must have known in advance that she was going to paint on the fan today, so she hired someone else to do it for the sake of showing off. It's really hypocritical!"

Huangpu Roujia stared at the fan, and enviously agreed.

At this moment, Sikong Mo snatched the fan, and seemed to be very satisfied with the fan. When he was about to print his own seal, he discovered that the small word Que had already been printed on the fan.

He actually took the lead, hum, what I can't get, even if it is destroyed, I won't leave it to him.

His face suddenly became gloomy, and he was about to tear off the fan, but as soon as he raised his hand, a gust of fist wind came in front of him.

His hand seemed to be pinched by sharp claws, and the fan in his hand was snatched back by Sikong Que.

"Brother Huang, this fan is mine!"

Sikong Que stuffed the fan into his arms with a vigilant expression, and then let go of Sikong Mo's hand.

"Presumptuous, what kind of thing are you, to attack Bengong, are you courting death?"

The furious Sikong Mo made a fool of himself in public, immediately glared at Sikong Que viciously, and saw that a slap was about to fall on Sikong Que's face
A pair of thin hands with calluses grabbed the falling slap.

"Your Highness, a gentleman uses his mouth but not his hands. If you like the paintings of the servants, the servants will draw ten or eight of them to honor you when they return."

"Who wants a picture of a lowly maid, you're hugging the wrong thigh!"

"Ahem, take the class seriously!"

At this time Yan Jiaoxi finally noticed the strangeness in the room and had to cough a few times.

Sikong Mo let go of his hand and snorted coldly, and the classroom immediately returned to calm.

In the poetry and song class, Meng Jiaoxi, who looked like a fairy, hung up a poem:

荷。

Fuqu, water spirit.

For fresh green, sharp corners.

Pulling Ye Chang, who lives in the lake.

The first lotus is picked in May, and the other ones can't wait.

People watch the lotus and enjoy the scenery quietly, and the wind and small waves reflect red.

Invite the green vastness to sing the bright moon, and the lotus of Tihe to blow the waves.

"This pagoda poem was made by the first dean of Wuji College. It has been rare for anyone to match it in poetry, song and Fu classes. Even if it is lucky enough to match it, it is not as artistic and neat as the poem. Who will try it first?"

The entire classroom was extremely quiet for an instant, and everyone looked embarrassed.

"Sikong Que, I heard that your concubine mother is the number one talented woman in Dafeng. I think you should be right about this poem."

Sikong Que clenched his fists and lowered his head.

"Oh, it turned out to be an idiot. I think your mother and concubine are also a pretentious person for fame. No wonder she was skinned and made into a lantern after she died. A useless son born to a useless mother, haha."

At this moment, Sikong Mo was sitting in front of Sikong Que, singing along with Huangpu Roujia.

Fearing that Sikong Que behind would not be able to hear him, he deliberately slowed down his speech, and turned his head to speak to Sikong Que gently word by word.

Li Qingmei's face was ashen on the side, and her parents couldn't be more troubled. Although she wanted to go to class in a low-key manner, the two of them were too much, so she took out a quill pen and started to write.

"Your Highness, don't be so low-key. I remember this kind of pagoda poem. You usually have several of these pagoda poems at hand. I just remembered one of your highness's poems."

Li Qingmei dried the ink and pushed the rice paper in front of Sikong Que.

In the elegant block letters, there are a few lines of small characters written upright:

plum.

Sui Han, Aorui.

In the twelfth lunar month, a plum.

Faintly open, the dark fragrance floats.

The midwinter is full of branches, and spring is coming soon.

Severe Frost Wind Sprite Garden, elegant and fragrant.

Green and white apricots and five blessed plums, icy jade blossoms and blossoms.

Sikong Que pinched the paper, tears seemed to appear in his eyes, after a long time he raised his head and looked at Sikong Mo fixedly.

"Brother Huang, this kind of little poem that anyone in the royal family can easily match. You must be a hundred times more right than my younger brother. I wonder if I can listen to Brother Huang's masterpiece."

"You! I hum!"

(End of this chapter)