Rising Xianxia World

Chapter 19: An Idyll, A Lyric
The voice was majestic and ethereal, reaching everyone's ears very clearly.

For a moment, the noisy square became quiet, and a needle could be heard.

Everyone listened attentively, wanting to know what the opening topic of the Qingfeng Poetry Fair would be.

"The topic this time is very simple. Since it is a poetry meeting, everyone will compose an idyllic poem or a lyric poem impromptu within the time of one stick of incense. I will judge whether you are eligible to obtain the Qingfeng Order!"

"After thinking about it, you can wave to Yimengdie. At that time, you only need to recite the poem you thought about silently in your heart."

"This time, there should be a lot of talents who came here for the official's Yushuizhu, but if you want to take the first place, you have to show some real skills, hahaha."

As soon as the words fell, all kinds of noises rang out again. This question is not too difficult, but rather simple.

After all, who can come to participate in this poetry meeting, except for some spectators, who can't write a few poems?
Moreover, this topic is also very broad. It only needs to be pastoral and lyric poems, and it is even easier for most people.

But because it is simple, it is more difficult, which means that your poems must be better than others to stand out among tens of thousands of people.

Tens of thousands of people, but not everyone can get the Qingfeng Order, at least half of them must be eliminated!
Gu Qiubai looked at the whispers around him, thinking quickly in his heart.

At this moment, one after another verses flashed in his mind, exceptionally clear.

A gleam of joy flashed in Gu Qiubai's eyes. In the real world, he had no sense of Chinese, but he never expected that so many poems seemed to be reflected in his mind.

"Could it be because of the gifted talent that I acquired before?" Gu Qiubai quickly thought of this possibility.

Before he acquired the gift of wit, I am afraid he also acquired the 5000-year-old poetry culture of China.

However, with such a huge group of poems, which two should he choose?

……

On the square, a man in white clothes like snow, with a three-foot long sword on his waist, has an air of dust, standing alone among the crowd, as if he stands out from the crowd.

He has an indifferent face, sword-like brows and star-eyed eyes, and there is an air of nobility unconsciously exuding from his whole body, which makes people dare not approach him.

Beside him, followed by an old man with white hair and long beard, hunched over, cautious and respectful.

If there is a strong person here, you can find that this old man is actually a master at the peak of foundation building!

Around the man, a group of people were also discussing quietly, looking at the man in white clothes with extreme surprise in their eyes.

"Why does this person look like Ji Changge?"

"The third son Ji Changge of the No. [-] immortal cultivating family in Nanyang County?" Someone was surprised.

"It's indeed the third son. I saw it from a distance at the Ji family's celebration."

"Hiss, he is indeed the Ji family's once-in-a-hundred-year immortal cultivating genius. Judging by the fluctuations in his cultivation, he must have reached the middle stage of foundation establishment. Tsk tsk, the middle stage of foundation establishment, this is really Tianyou Ji's family."

"Just how did he appear here?"

"The aristocratic family pays attention to the way of entering the world. When the cultivation base is reached, they will put down the mountain to experience it and cleanse the heart of the world."

"Hey, with the participation of the three sons, it seems that the leader this time is hopeless." Someone sighed.

"Hmph, he's just good at cultivating immortals. This Qingfeng Poetry Association is no match for magic power. It's not certain who will win?" Some people objected.

After hearing this, the people around couldn't help laughing in a low voice.

"Brother, you don't know that the third son's talent for cultivating immortals is indeed great, but his accomplishments in poetry are not far behind his talent for cultivating immortals."

"It is rumored that the third son was able to compose poetry at the age of three. At the age of five, he was proficient in all kinds of piano, chess, calligraphy and painting. If so, you can definitely get the top ten in the palace."

"Look, the third son has raised his hand!"

In the crowd, Ji Changge raised his eyebrows, turning a deaf ear to the discussions around him, and slowly raised his right hand.

The moment Ji Changge raised his hand, a colorful butterfly fluttered out of the light curtain in front of the square.

The butterfly flapped its wings and came to the sky above Ji Changge's head in the blink of an eye, and a faint amount of pollen fell down.

After a few breaths, Yimengdie flapped its wings again and returned to the light curtain in front of the square.

"This is the Yimeng butterfly. Its pollen can communicate the deepest voice in the heart and convey it to the caster. It is a plaything of some nobles in their spare time." Liu Changzong explained standing beside Gu Qiubai.

With the beginning of Ji Changge, more and more talented people raised their hands. After all, the later they raise their hands, the less chance they will have. If they raise their hands first, the governor will read fewer poems and have a chance to advance!
Liu Changzong also raised his hand at this time, and a dream-recalling butterfly flew out from the light curtain and came to the sky above his head.

Gu Qiubai was able to see the appearance of the Yimeng butterfly from a quiet distance, the size of half a palm, and every time he flapped his wings, some colorful pollen would fall from the sky.

"Brother Gu, aren't you going to participate?"

After Liu Changzong sent out the poem, he relaxed a little, seeing that Gu Qiubai hadn't moved, he couldn't help but feel a little puzzled.

At this time, more than half of the people in the square had already written their poems and sent them out, and only a small number of people were still thinking hard.

After all, for such a wide range of poems, everyone will write a few poems when they have free time on weekdays. At this time, just choose one or two of them that are the best!
"Writing poetry is like cooking something fresh, so don't rush it." Gu Qiubai smiled.

Liu Changzong couldn't help laughing, pointed at Xukong, and said: "Then wait for brother Gu's good poem."

Looking at the surrounding scene, Gu Qiubai finally selected two poems, so he slowly raised his right hand.

……

In the depths of Nanshan, there are colorful clouds, flying fairy birds, waterfalls and flowing springs, green mountains and green waters, along the winding mountain road, you can go straight to the top of Nanshan.

At this time, it was drizzling and the breeze was blowing, adding a little melancholy and tranquility to the Nanshan Mountain.

Amidst the few clouds and mist, a blue and white mansion stands in it, shining with scorching brilliance, and exuding a breath of poetry.

In a large courtyard of the mansion, there are crabapple flowers planted on both sides, blooming magnificent flowers, emitting bursts of fragrance.

A middle-aged scribe was sitting on a bench, and in front of him, there were sheets of blank paper. After just a moment, lines of poems would appear on the white paper.

Next to the middle-aged scribe, there was a middle-aged man in green clothes with a beautiful beard sitting, holding a jug and looking at the scribe with a smile.

The middle-aged scribe picked up one of the blank papers on which the poem had just appeared, looked at it for a while, then sighed, and threw it aside.

"Brother Wei, why are you moaning and sighing all the time, don't the poems written by these talents not suit your taste?" The bearded man next to him drank a glass of wine and said with a smile.

"Hey, there are really too few poems that can resonate with them. Most of them are moaning without illness, just arty, and they are really ordinary." Wei Junshou sighed, "It's that kid from the Ji family who said, 'The wild sky is low and the trees are low, Jiang Qingyue "Near people" has a taste."

"Is that the third talented son from the Ji family's rumors?" The bearded man was a little interested.

"Exactly, but this boy's idyllic poems are a bit poetic, and the lyric poems are still inferior. They can only be called good poems." County Sheriff Wei shook his head.

The bearded man laughed: "Brother Wei, you are too harsh. You were ranked second in the imperial examinations back then. If you measure it with your style, there are few people in the world who can meet the standard. This is just a small poetry meeting." , it’s almost enough, or are you reluctant to part with your Yushuizhu, and insist on making things difficult for this group of talented men and beautiful women?”

"Where is this? Yushuizhu is precious, but Mr. Wei has not reached the point of reluctance. I am just sighing. There are too few young people who are willing to delve into poetry now."

"Hey, it's not the old stubborn group of Haoranzong. Most cultivators don't advocate the idea of ​​'poetry and calligraphy in their stomachs'."

Governor Wei stopped talking, and continued to look at the poems. Every time he read a poem, his brows deepened, and his heart grew more impatient.

"Hey, is it true that today's gifted scholars can't write good poems?"

Finally another poem appeared in front of his eyes. Sheriff Wei casually picked it up. He had no hope for the poem that appeared.

However, when he looked at the poem, his cloudy eyes slowly lit up, his arms trembled so much that he could hardly hold the paper, and his heart was even more excited.

Great poem, great poem!

ps: Acute gastroenteritis, it hurts all night~~ It seems that I can only change it today...

(End of this chapter)