Confucianism is supreme? I am reciting Tang poems in another world!

After dinner, Mo Yao and Ci Song came to the square in the inner courtyard of Confucius Sheng Academy. Unlike yesterday, where there were only scattered students in the huge square, today the square was filled with people. Looking around, there were at least three students. Hundreds of people went up, and they were scattered in different areas of the square, wearing Confucian robes of different colors, making them look distinct.

In addition to the Zilu Academy and Zigong Academy that Ci Song had just seen in the Holy Temple, there was also a group of students wearing light purple Confucian robes that looked particularly eye-catching.

"Those should be the students from Zeng Sheng Academy, right? Why did they come so early? We haven't even had many people from Yan Sheng Academy yet." Ci Song murmured in his heart.

At the same time, Ci Song heard a voice of doubt coming from the east side of the square, "Why was the Qu Sheng's Poetry Monument suddenly closed for practice? This has not happened in previous years?"

His voice was not loud, but it was full of energy. Everyone looked towards the east side of the square in the direction of Qu Sheng's poetry monument, and saw a group of Zigong Academy students wearing blue Confucian robes gathered around the poetry monument.

Ci Song recognized the speaker as Duanmu Qingcang, who taught Zhou Ge a lesson in the Holy Temple.

At this time, a wooden fence had been erected in front of Qu Sheng's poem monument, and a notice board and a desk were suddenly erected on the left side of the fence. These three things are like barriers, isolating everyone from the Qu Shengshi Monument.

A student who looked to be in his twenties smiled apologetically while explaining to everyone: "It's like this. Qu Sheng's Poems Monument was blessed with auspicious blessings yesterday. According to the rules, Qu Sheng's Poems Monument needs to rest for the next three months. "

"Senior Brother Zheng, is it possible that someone else from your academy has completed the Seventh Poetry Stele Test? Which senior brother is it?" Duanmu Qingcang asked curiously.

"No one has completed the seven tests. The situation this time is different from the past." Senior Brother Zheng replied, "You should still follow the previous rules. If you want to show off your talents, please move here and try to answer yesterday's questions. The problem left by Qu Sheng.”

"It's a pity, Junior Brother Wu Yan, it seems we came at the wrong time today." Duanmu Qingcang helplessly patted the shoulder of the boy next to him.

"It doesn't matter, I'm here just for the test, as long as there are problems to solve."

The boy walked slowly to the desk and opened the rice paper above. What came into view were the three questions that Qu Sheng asked Ci Song yesterday.

"Using 'Brotherhood' as the title, you can write a poem in seven steps. Let's see your talent."

"Use 'Plum' as the title, use objects to describe people, and write a poem in six steps. Let's see your talent."

"With the title of 'similarity', it lasts for one moment."

Ci Song, who was watching from a distance on the other side, was curious and asked Mo Yao, "Yao'er, is that boy about the same age as me also a genius who writes poetry into ink?"

Mo Yao nodded and began to introduce Ci Song, "Well, his name is Zhang Wuyan. He is about the same age as me. He is the future star of Zigong Academy. He was noticed by major academies before he entered school. His father was originally a Zhang Wuyan, a country squire, was obsessed with Confucianism and built a small college locally so that children from his neighbors could have a place to study. , major colleges are also paying great attention to him.”

"Later, he entered Zigong Academy and was accepted as his direct successor by the dean Dongfang Weili. It is no exaggeration to say that he reached the sky in one step, and he did not disappoint anyone's expectations. When he was eleven years old, he completed his poems and put them into ink. At the end of last month , the dean of Zigong Academy personally wrote an inscription for Zhang Wuyan at the ceremony to commemorate Confucius, praising him as: 'Talent is like spring water, and people are like autumn frost.'"

"Because I am too young, I should be participating in the Five Courtyard Tea Party as a scholar just like Brother Ci Song."

"Zhang Wuyan? This name is quite good. Wuyan went up to the west building alone, the moon was like a hook, and the lonely phoenix tree locked the clear autumn in the deep courtyard." Ci Song murmured subconsciously.

"Brother Ci Song, you are so talented. Compared with you, he is still far behind."

As he said that, Mo Yao nuzzled towards Ci Song again. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the two of them were close to each other.

"Yao'er, please be gentle, I can't run away.

. . . . . .

While the two were laughing and playing around, Zhang Wuyan on the desk had already begun to write a poem. In an instant, a poem appeared on the paper: "

A tree with red flowers standing proudly on its branches is not afraid of the wind and frost, but it is crazy.

If they are placed side by side with peaches and plums, how can they be used to compose poems?

Young people tend to have high ambitions, and they laugh at their youth without knowing it.

Don't wait until time has passed, but it's too late to turn back to the setting sun. "

The pen fell, the poem was completed, and then a faint golden light flew out from the stele of Qu Sheng's poem, which was printed on the rice paper. Then there were two lines of text on the rice paper that exuded a faint golden light, which were also a reference to the poem. Rating: "Medium quality."

"It's only a middle grade? The poem that Junior Brother Wu Yan wrote in less than half a quarter of an hour is only a middle grade?"

Duanmu Qingcang was slightly startled. In his opinion, Zhang Wuyan's poem was already extremely well written. Not only did it

The beauty and arrogance of the plum blossoms, as well as the fierce and proud ambition, also express the shortness of youth and the meaning of cherishing time. The words are precise and the contrasts are neat. How can it be worth only a middle grade?

Zhang Wuyan, who received such a comment, was obviously not able to understand it. The next second, the two golden words were transformed into a wonderful poem, which appeared in the blank space of the rice paper.

This poem is "Bu Suanzi·Yong Mei" that Ci Song recited yesterday, and then four more words appeared on the paper, "This is top grade."

Zhang Wuyan read it carefully. When he read the sentence "It has turned into mud and ground into dust, only the fragrance remains the same", he felt numb all over and had an indescribable emotion in his heart. "That's a good saying, 'It turns into mud and grinds into dust.'" Duanmu Qingcang said with a smile, stroking his palms, "It seems that Junior Brother Wu Yan lost."

Not unfair. " Zhang Wuyan heard Duanmu Qingcang's comment, and then saw the sentence on the rice paper, "This is top quality. ", she was completely convinced. Compared with this poem, there was a huge gap between her own poems. It gave her a sense of an old man playing tricks on a naughty boy. The poems she wrote were indeed not like this.

Immediately afterwards, the gold characters on the rice paper disappeared and turned into golden light that condensed together again to form two characters floating in the air.

"continue."

Seeing this, Zhang Wuyan saluted the two words in the air, and then picked up his pen again, preparing to continue with the next topic. This time he wanted to write "Lovesickness".

Just like that, another half-quarter of an hour passed, and a thoughtful poem once again appeared on the rice paper: "

Feihong conveys affection, and the bright moon expresses lovesickness.

The spring water reflects the pear blossoms, and the brush writes my heart.

Affectionate saffron beans, branches full of spring,

I hope you know what I mean, and my love is like water. "

After the poem was completed, the golden light turned into evaluation again, and sure enough, it was "medium grade" again.

. . . . . . .