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Chapter 14 The God of Poetry

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    Seeing that Han Ce agreed directly, Zuo Wenbin couldn't help showing a smug smile.

    If you don't agree, you can make trouble by yourself.

    After agreeing, I can use the problem again to make trouble.

    Seeing that Han Ce agreed so readily, Lin Nianrou didn't say anything to persuade him. Since Han Ce is so confident, he must be confident.

    She also became curious about Han Ce.

    What kind of talent does the person who can compose the seven-character verse of Deng Gao have?

    She suddenly found that she had expectations, and there was a thread in her heart that seemed to be stirred up by someone.

    Lin Nianrou quickly withdrew her thoughts, a faint blush appeared on her cheeks, which was fleeting and unnoticed.

    "That's what you said!"

    Zuo Wenbin wanted to be sure, and worried that Han Ce would have some excuse for being stumped by him later.

    Han Ce waved his hand, "You're worrying too much, making excuses is your forte, and I always speak with strength!" Han Ce's words almost didn't make Zuo Wenbin spit out a mouthful of old blood.

    This is too arrogant.

    "good!"

    Zuo Wenbin patted the fan on his palm a few times, and looked around, "Everything is springing at this time, how about using spring as the topic?"

    "Good rain knows the season, when spring happens. Sneak into the night with the wind, moisten things silently. The wild trails are all dark, and the river and boats are bright. At dawn, look at the red and wet places, and the flowers are heavy in the official city."

    After Zuo Wenbin finished speaking, Han Ce uttered a poem without hesitation.

    If Zuo Wenbin hadn't spoken first, everyone would have thought that Han Ce wrote the poem first, and Zuo Wenbin wrote the poem later.

    Really too fast!

    There is no thinking and thinking at all.

    "this?"

    Everyone was stunned again, and Zuo Wenbin was also stunned. He didn't expect Han Ce to actually do it.

    "That's not counting! You must have been prepared, my topic is summer!"

    Zuo Wenbin said unwillingly.

    As soon as these words came out, there was some interest in cheating, but everyone ignored Zuo Wenbin's cheating and looked at Han Ce one after another.

    Today this is the protagonist.

    "The green trees are thick and the summer is long, and the reflection of the building falls into the pond. The crystal curtain moves the breeze, and the roses are full of fragrance in the courtyard."

    Han Ce recited it casually, as if he already knew the topic Zuo Wenbin was going to ask.

    "Is it still human?"

    Someone stared blankly at Han Ce.

    Is this still the same person as them?

    How could there be such a person in this world?

    "This is really a god!"

    "It's like the god of poetry coming down to earth!"

    "How do I feel about this, Mr. Zuo?" Han Ce asked.

    "Autumn?" Zuo Wenbin called out.

    "Since ancient times, autumn has been sad and lonely. I say that autumn is better than spring. When a crane floats above the clouds in a clear sky, it will attract poetry to the blue sky." Han Ce said with a smile.

    "What about winter?"

    This time it was not Zuo Wenbin, but the person next to Zuo Wenbin asked lightly, "Spring, summer, autumn and winter, the first three are available, what about this winter?"

    "Birds fly away in a thousand mountains, and people disappear in thousands of miles. The lonely boat and the hat are fishing alone in the cold river and snow."

    Han Ce stood with his hands behind his back, calmly speaking a poem.

    Spring, summer, autumn and winter are all collected.

    "Can this brother sing bamboo?"

    "Stay firm on the green hills and not let go, the roots are originally in the broken rocks. After thousands of blows, you will still be strong, let you be windy from east to west." Han Ce made it within a few breaths.

    "Yongmei?"

    "There are several branches of plums in the corner, and Ling Han blooms alone. I know it's not snow, because there is a dark fragrance."

    "Landscape?"

    "After the new rain in the empty mountain, the weather is late to autumn. The bright moon shines among the pines, and the clear spring stone flows upward. The bamboo noise returns to the raccoon girl, and the lotus moves down the fishing boat. Feel free to rest in the spring, and the king and grandson can stay."

    Gradually, more people gathered around, and they were attracted one by one.

    "what's up?"

    The people coming from behind asked the people in front why so many people gathered here, could it be that there is something lively going on here?

    Is there anyone more powerful than Zhuang Bufan, Duanmu Ling, and Liu Bangyan?

    "Meet the god of poetry!"

    One said admiringly.

    God of poetry?

    ?"What do you mean by that?" Obviously, this person doesn't understand what the god of poetry means, and it is not ordinary people who can afford the word god of poetry.

    Even Zhuang Bufan and the others dare not call themselves the God of Poetry.

    "Here comes a man who is a genius in heaven. He can write poems out of his mouth. No matter what the topic is, as long as you say it, he can make it. It's amazing!"

    "Impossible! How could there be such a person?"

    "Can what I saw with my own eyes be false?"

    "Listen, there are new poems!"

    One by one, they crowded inside, trying to hear clearly and take a look at the true face of this god of poetry.

    "Can you make a song of snow?"

    "There is no youth in the new year, and I was surprised to see grass sprouts in early February. Baixue thought spring was late, so she wore garden trees as flying flowers." Han Ce didn't even look at the person who wrote the question, and read it out after listening.

    It's jaw-droppingly fast.

    ? On the side, Zuo Wenbin was already stunned, his eyes dull and dull, like a sculpture.

    Lin Nianrou was also shocked by the scene in front of her. She had already prepared and knew that Han Ce had a plan, but she never expected it to be so.

    It's not that you have a well-thought-out plan, it's that you have a bamboo forest in your mind, okay?

    Can you turn your mouth into a poem?

    How on earth did you do it?

    And every poem is a top-notch masterpiece, it doesn't seem to be perfunctory at all, every capital seems to have undergone countless revisions and scrutiny.

    "If you don't see the water of the Yellow River coming up from the sky, if you don't see the bright mirror in the high hall"

    "Raise a glass to invite the bright moon, and form three people"

    "When is the bright moon? Ask the sky for wine"

    "My fair lady, a gentleman is so good"

    "The waves are gone, the romantic man of the ages"

    "Last night, the rain was dredging and the wind was violent, and the heavy sleep did not dissipate the residual wine. I tried the man with the curtain, but the crabapple remained the same. Do you know, do you know? It should be green, fat, red and thin."

    Passionate, unrestrained, graceful, free and easy, ambitious.

    Eternal love is all in Han Ce's poems, the surroundings are silent, and no one is making a sound, for fear of disturbing this sacred moment.

    Everyone was immersed in Han Ce's poems.

    Each of them seemed to be possessed by a demon.

    Han Ce stood where he was, eloquently speaking, and uttered poems one after another. No one knew whether he was composing poems or reciting aloud.

    The people at the poetry meeting gradually dwindled, and they walked outside one by one.

    A lively poem will eventually become deserted.

    "what happened?"

    Xiao Yanqi frowned, why did it suddenly become deserted when it was very lively just now, these people went out one by one, what happened outside.

    "I do not know!"

    The people around were also surprised.

    "Go and see!" Xiao Yanqi ordered Gu Changming to go out and see what happened.

    Not only Xiao Yanqi noticed the situation at the poetry meeting, Yan Zhenpan and the others also noticed something strange, because no poems had been sent.

    It felt like there was no movement outside.

    "what happened?"

    "Old Yan, the God of Poetry has come down to earth!"

    One person rushed in and told Yan Zhenpan the matter in a hurry.

    "Nonsense!"

    Yan Zhenpan scolded angrily, this person is his student, so he broke in in such a disregard of face, and said such wild words.

    What kind of poet is there in the world.

    "Mr. Yan is true. That man has exported poems, and now there are no fewer than fifty poems!" The person who came in explained.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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