When Wang Zixu was walking on the road, a Porsche Cayenne came from behind and slowed down beside him.

The car window was lowered, revealing a delicate face. The woman pushed the sunglasses on her face to her forehead and said:

"Hey, Wang Zixu, when we were talking about you in the office, why didn't you say that you were Wang Zixu?"

Wang Zixu looked thoughtfully at Ning Chunyan's beautiful eyes, which were bright and charming, and his eyes were flowing. He was thinking about this somewhat boring question, his brain was in a trance, and his heartbeat was a little faster.

"Zixu is not an important person," he replied.

His pace quickened, as if he wanted to escape. Ning Chunyan stepped on the accelerator to catch up with him, and the Cayenne's engine made a sweet roar.

"Really? I think he is an interesting person." Ning Chunyan said with a smile, "Have you always been so cool? When others talk about you, you just listen quietly and don't say anything to pretend to be an expert."

Wang Zixu was greatly confused. The difference between the self in Ning Chunyan's eyes and the self in his heart was so big that he wondered if she was mocking him.

"I'm not cool. I'm just not good at talking."

"I'll go. It's even cooler."

Outside the government building is a long green avenue. The sun shines through the camphor leaves and falls on the car, leaving mottled light spots. The reflection of the city drifts on the car window.

The prince imagined that Ning Chunyan's real person was really different from what he imagined. Her words were meaningful, clear, and pessimistic. If he hadn't met her in such a good weather, he would always have thought that Ning Chunyan was like a nun.

cold woman.

Ning Chunyan said: "Have you read a lot of books?"

"Well, I've seen a little bit. The more I see, the less I see."

"You like literature very much?"

"I only like literature."

"Have you written anything?"

The scripts written by Wen Ai first flashed through Wang Zixu's mind. Finally, he shook his head and drove the thought out of his mind, saying:

"I have only written a few short stories."

"Is it pure literature? Not internet writing?"

Wang Zixu stopped, thought for a moment whether Wen Yan was pure literature or Internet writing, and then said firmly:

"Pure literature."

"There are really not many people who still stick to the position of pure literature. It is quite rare. Where are your works published? I will pay my respects."

The prince turned to look at her blankly: "It has never been published."

Ning Chunyan covered her mouth and laughed, laughing like Cao Shuang when he learned that Sima Yi fell into Zhuge Liang's empty city plan.

After laughing for a while, she said: "I knew you had never published anything, and you were depressed and frustrated. All the literary lovers I have ever seen are like you."

Wang Zixu felt that she came here specifically to mock him. If she was deliberately trying to mess with his mentality, Wang Zixu could only admit that she was very successful. He asked:

"Then what does it look like to be successful? Are they all like you?"

Ning Chunyan in the Porsche Cayenne sat up slightly and said with a little pride: "Of course not, I am unique."

Wang Zixu wants to say that I am also unique. But he is embarrassed to say it. Even if a person like him is unique, he is not unique in a good way. No one cares about being unique like this.

Ning Chunyan said: "However, you are also a rather strange type among the new literary lovers.

"There are many types of depression, most of which are bipolar. I feel that I am the best in the world, and I wish I could drag myself to the sky. In fact, I can't even reach the toes of a truly famous person. I talk boldly in the early stage, but become silent after being hit.

"But you belong to that rare type of depression. You are so depressed that I am speechless. When we were discussing you in the office, how did you feel? Sad and angry? Proud? Or secretly happy?"

Wang Zixu said: "To be honest, I am not in the mood. Confucius said, if a person does not know something but is not stupefied, is he not a gentleman?"

Ning Chunyan said: "That seems to be sadness and anger."

The cayenne rolled over the small branches and camphor berries on the ground, making a crisp "crackling" sound.

Wang Zixu was not in the mood to argue with Ning Chunyan. The more he argued, the more he felt like a sad and angry Kong Yiji, saying "a gentleman is poor" or "a person".

He suddenly realized that these were all Ning Chunyan's tricks. She just wanted to see her argue. Fortunately, he didn't fall for it.

Ning Chunyan smiled and pushed her hair away from her face and cleared her throat: "I'm actually here to tell you that Director Mei actually appreciates you."

"Yeah?"

"After you left, he praised you behind your back for a long time," Ning Chunyan said, "and scolded you for a long time."

Wang Zixu said: "I let him down."

Ning Chunyan said: "I can understand you."

"Um?"

"I don't like socializing or socializing. I just like to stay at home and do things I like. When I talk to people like Shen Qingfeng, I feel uncomfortable all over. To be honest, I think he is...

"

She mouthed a vulgar word, and Wang Zixu was shocked. He didn't expect that a lady like her could say such a word.

Ning Chunyan continued: "But you have to talk to them. Although everyone is nominally a literati with an immortal style, they are very particular about the scene. Each one will retaliate more than the other, and there are so many little tricks. If you are not careful, you will offend.

If you have one, they will hate you to death behind your back."

Wang Zixu said: "It sounds quite boring."

Ning Chunyan sighed: "Yeah. It's quite boring. So, after knowing the truth about the literary world, are you still willing to squeeze in?"

Wang Zixu said: "Yes. It is the same in other places in the world."

Ning Chunyan smiled: "You are a wonderful person."

The two of them walked for a while, and Wang Zixu said, "I'll turn around here and go home."

Ning Chunyan cleared her throat again and stretched out her phone: "Then, add WeChat?"

Wang Zixu said: "I am already married."

Ning Chunyan showed a deeply offended expression and her mood was a bit unstable: "Do you know it's very rude of you to do this!"

Wang Zixu was surprised and said: "What's wrong?"

Ning Chunyan looked hurt: "It's not like I asked you for WeChat... I'm not interested in your body. Apart from your wife, is there no other member of the opposite sex on your phone?"

Wang Zixu paused: "Yes, my mother, my grandma..."

Ning Chunyan was speechless: "Then let me tell you today, not all the people of the opposite sex who ask you for WeChat are trying to date you! It's really rude of you to do this!"

Wang Zixu took out his cell phone guiltily: "Oh, then... do you scan me or should I scan you?"

"No more, no more! You're married! I don't deserve it!"

"You deserve it. You deserve it."

"I understand. What you just said is true. You really can't speak." Ning Chunyan looked in disbelief, "A person like you actually has a wife."

Although they said this, the two eventually exchanged contact information. When Ning Chunyan returned home, her father, a retired university professor, was sitting on a recliner in the living room reading a book, with reading glasses on his face.

"Dad, I'm back."

The old father put down his reading glasses, stared at his daughter who rushed into his room with the upper edge of his eyes, and asked leisurely:

"How was your meeting with Mei Rucheng today? Did you gain anything?"

He didn't get an answer from his daughter. After a long time, the daughter came out of the room and handed over a note. The old father raised the note and read out the words on it:

"Lying and watching the plum blossoms in winter, the moon is white, and I wonder if the snow is all over the village in front of me at dusk. Is this written by Mei Rucheng?"

Ning Chunyan did not answer his question, but just asked: "Mr. Ning, based on your many years of cultivation of ancient poetry, what do you think of this poem?"

Ning Bingru held up the note, recited it repeatedly, and then said: "There is only one line of the poem, which cannot be analyzed from the perspective of thought and overall style. It was written by a modern person, and there is nothing to talk about about the meter. Just talking about the intention, it is quite interesting.

It has an antique feel, but it is too focused on describing scenes, without much depth, and the writing is not very concise. However, the artistic conception is quite good."
Chapter completed!