Chapter 29 – Throwing Poems at People

“Brush brush brush brush!” Countless gazes shot at Fan Xian’s body, he smiled coyly and arched his hand, not tying a flowery turban to impersonate an artist, after all, he was Fan Xian, not Fan Wei.

Shizi looked at him in this manner and nearly laughed out loud, he would not believe what Miss Fan said, a ten year old might really be able to write good poems, but visit poems like this one where he carefully takes his measurements should not be written, he guessed that Fan Xian had written it last night, and only today did he purposely let Fan Ruo Ruo bring it out so that it would be a shocking hit in the Poetry Conference.

He didn’t resent this, but instead found it somewhat amusing that a character like Fan Xian, who seemed very spontaneous, would actually write this kind of poem. Fan Xian did not know what King Jing’s son was thinking, he only knew that this poem of Meng Haoran kissing Zhang Jiuling’s ass in his previous life was still that much higher than the level of these people in the arena, so he was satisfied, at least this fulfilled his father’s account.

Guo Baokun looked at the field of the crowd’s eyes, heart furious, never thought this “embroidered pillow” actually have such a life-saving poem, he refused to give up, said with a sneer: “I do not know brother Fan also have what good piece? After all, this is your …… ten year old masterpiece.”

The meaning of the words was clearly not believing that the poem was written by himself.

Fan Xian sighed in his heart, thinking why do people always like to force themselves to do these things? When it came to composing poems and words, in this world, who else would be his rival? After all, he is a monster possessed by the three gods of Li Du Su and endowed with 5,000 years of poetic power, he smiled and responded, “I’ve never been a proposition writer.”

Guo Baokun looked at his emboldened demeanor and gritted his teeth, “Then please feel free to compose your first poem, so that all of you Kyoto talents can see it as well.”

Fan Xian frowned and gave this annoying guy a cold look, then threw down a poem, got up and left the garden, led by the Wang Fu’s subordinates to go to the outhouse.

When this poem came out, it threw down a poem, and the whole garden was shocked, falling flowers and sweeping thousands of troops.

After a burst of applause, the crowd tasted the flavor, Guo Baokun’s face is also a green piece of white piece, do not know what to say good. Shizi at this time no longer cared about how to hold the fan in his hand in order not to hit the comment of Fan Xian’s wind and bones, snapped the fan closed, chanting:

“The wind and the sky are high and the apes are whistling, the islets are clear and the sand is white and the birds are flying back. The boundless fallen trees are under the Xiao Xiao, endless big river rolls to. Miles of sadness in the fall often as a guest, a hundred years of sickness alone on the stage. Tough and bitter hatred of frosty temples, scribbling new stop turbid wine cup.”

“Mourning, clear, boundless, endless, ten thousand miles, autumn, guest, a hundred years, sick, alone, a thousand sorrows, all in a cup of turbid wine! Good poem, good poem!” The son of the world loudly praised, suddenly thought of his own appearance of leisure, but in fact the heart of the bitter father, somehow, actually a heart of sour, and then a relative, shaking his head for a long time speechless.

Only after a long time, he woke up, you Fan Xian small age, although the life is miserable, and how can say that the snow temples are sick? This is really really inexplicable, completely unreasonable. However, the crowd was still immersed in the atmosphere of the poem, watching the sun set in the west, no matter whether it was a great man or a poor man, all of them had the feeling that life was impermanent and that sorrow and sadness were always present. Therefore, the crowd inadvertently forgot that Fan Xian’s life experience was not in harmony with the heaviness of the poem.

No one suspected that it was written by someone else, after all, this poem is not a generation of great poets in the poetry world, and if it was a generation of great poets, they would not be willing to do it even if they were writing for the Son of Heaven, not to mention Fan’s family, a little boy.

“With this poem, it doesn’t matter if Mr. Fan doesn’t write poems in the future.” Prince Jing sighed. The lakeside talents each fell silent, knowing that they would never be able to compose a better line today no matter what, so the entire poetry meeting fell into silence because of Fan Xian’s poem, not realizing that the author had long since slipped away.

In fact, this poem did not fit the scene, nor the time, but Fan Xian was really anxious, so he hurriedly memorized a blow to finish the enemy. He was in a hurry, on the one hand, he said that he was suffocated by that little bastard called Guo Baokun, on the other hand, he was really in a hurry, he was bored earlier, and drank a little too much liquor.

Carrying his pants out of the outhouse, he sighed very comfortably, fastened his pants belt, took the towel from his subordinate’s hand and wiped his hands. On the way back, he suddenly saw that there was a nursery that was very delightful, with tender green leaves and small broken flowers, under the tall trees and in the twilight, it was full of life.

Fan Xian turned around and asked the subordinate if he could go for a stroll. Of course, the servant knew that this was the master of the Fan family, and that the Fan family’s young lady and young master Si Zhe had always walked freely in the royal residence, so naturally, he would not say a word of disapproval, and respectfully replied, “There is no problem.

Fan Xian was a bit happy, and sent the subordinates away, and walked into the nursery, casually watching, and found that the nursery did not have the exotic flowers and plants that big families usually like, but instead had many plants that he could not name, and they all looked very clumsy, so they should be some wild vegetables or crops.

He was a little curious, this Prince Jing’s family was really different, actually growing such things.

Walking casually in the garden, the sky light is actually still very bright, only that there are trees overhead to cover it, so it seems to be more secluded, you can hear the happy chirping of the birds above your head as they return to their nests, and all around you are all green and green colors, it’s very comfortable. Fan Xian was able to get rid of that very uninteresting poetry meeting, and felt greatly pleased, humming a little song as he walked deeper, thinking with a smile as he walked, “It won’t be like Duan Yu, bumping into a fairy sister, will it?”

“Who are you?”

A man stood up from the plants and looked at Fan Xian curiously.

Fan Xian was startled, thinking that with his own ears, he had actually come so close before noticing the other person, and if the other person was a killer, then he must be finished, realizing that his vigilance seemed to have diminished a lot since he had entered the capital.

He looked at the person in front of him and smiled to himself.

The other party of course could not be Wang Yuyan, nor could it be the woman in white that he couldn’t forget, but a flower farmer in his forties or fifties, with a hoe in his hand and a basket of mud at his feet, with a neutral face, and a slightly flustered look in his eyes, thinking that he was somewhat in awe of Fan Xian’s clothing.

Fan Xian smiled faintly, and bowed to the flower farmer, saying, “I’ve startled the old man, I’m a guest of the royal family, I walked here on the way, and saw that this nursery was extremely well tidied up, so I took a stroll.”

The old flower farmer wiped his hands on his clothes twice, seemingly not knowing how to salute, hearing him praise this garden for being well tidied up, he smiled somewhat nervously.