When Miss Miaomiao said the following words, Xia Hua suddenly raised the corner of her mouth.

She came to kill Li Chenan!

Not here to find a husband!

But now the Miaomiao girl said that this poem was written by Li Chenan, which made her a little unbelievable, so she became a little curious:

"Judging from the meaning of this word... I heard that Li Chenan has just turned eighteen. Why does it give people the impression that he is eighty years old?"

"Words come from the heart, how could he have such a desolate experience?"

Miss Miaomiao turned off the fire and poured tea, then shook her head:

"Master Li is a genius. Perhaps he met an old man somewhere and was inspired to write this poem."

"As for the real reason, it's a pity that Mr. Li did not come to Pingjiang City, but went to Shuzhou. Otherwise... the little girl would also like to ask him in person and ask for a poem from him in person."

Xia Hua did not ask this question again. If she wanted to ask, she could only ask Li Chenan.

She picked up the tea cup and asked another question as if nothing had happened: "He...since he is known as the Poet Immortal, last year during the Mid-Autumn Festival, his other fifteen poems...can Miss Miaomiao write them out for me to see?"

look?"

"Of course it's possible... Miss, you don't even know about his poems that have been spread all over the world?"

"Ah, I just came down the mountain."

"Oh, then Miaomiao, just write it down and show it to the lady...don't fall in love with him!"

Xia Hua took a sip of tea and was frightened by these words. She coughed violently, and it took a moment to calm down.

"What this girl likes is not that weak scholar!"

Miss Miaomiao waved and summoned a maid to polish the ink for her.

She looked at Xia Hua and smiled slightly, and said meaningfully: "Master Li is not a weak scholar."

"He...should be very hard!"

If he wasn't tough, how could the officialdom of Jiangnan Road be turned upside down by him?

When Xia Hua heard this, her face turned slightly red.

After a while, the maid polished the ink on an inkstone.

Miaomiao took a piece of paper and laid it out in front of her very carefully.

She pondered for another five seconds before she picked up the pen and put it down on the paper with great solemnity.

The little mouth opened slightly:

"The poem just now is called "Jiangchengzi", and it was the first poem Li Gongzi wrote at the Mid-Autumn Poetry Club."

"This second poem is called "Moon over the Xijiang River, a big dream in this world."

"The world is a big dream,

There are many cool autumns in life.

At night the wind blows and the leaves are already singing.

Look at the brows and temples.

A cheap drinker often worries about having few guests.

The moonlight is often obscured by clouds.

Who can share the lonely time with me during the Mid-Autumn Festival?

Look northward sadly!"

Miss Miaomiao put the piece of paper aside, took another one and spread it in front of her, and then wrote down:

"This third poem is called "The Order of Gui Gui, Mid-Autumn Festival"."

"Who can grind a flying mirror?

Illuminating the universe, reflecting the mountains and rivers!

Jade dew is cold,

The autumn sky is clear and silvery without waves,

More clear light than the long night,

There is no hindrance to the whirling osmanthus shadow."

"I sing loudly,

To ask Chang'e,

Good night and sleepy,

...How about not getting drunk?"

"This fourth song..."

"The fifth song..."

"No. 15..."

When Miss Miaomiao was writing these words and reciting them, Xia Hua, who was sitting opposite her, was stunned!

She could hardly believe that it was Li Chenan who composed these stunning poems at the Mid-Autumn Poetry Festival with just one stick of incense!

What kind of literary attainment is this?

How much literary knowledge does this require?

No wonder the emperor of Ning State gave him the title of Poet Immortal on the spot!

His talent...no matter which great scholar in any country, at least when it comes to poetry, they are no match for him!

Although Xia Hua practices martial arts in Tianyin Pavilion, she is also studying.

Although her teacher is not Yun Shuxian and Yun Lao Ru, he is also the dean of Bailu Academy in Dongxu City and one of the five great Confucians in Wu Kingdom, Mr. Qiuchen Qiu.

Tianyin Pavilion repairs swords and piano.

Xiuqin requires extremely high talent in literature.

If you don't understand the meaning of the words, the piano you play will have only form but no spirit.

It is tangible or can hurt people.

But only if there is a god, he can go beyond the ranks and kill people!

The Tianyin Pavilion's Tianmo Qinyin is a unique skill in the martial arts world. Very few people can practice it. In addition to internal strength, it also requires extremely high attainments in literature to make the Qinyin resonate with the heaven and earth!

Of course she understood the meaning contained in Li Chenan's poems.

Because I understand, I am surprised!

She knows how difficult it is to write such poetry!

If these poems were played using the unique method of the Heavenly Demonic Qin...it would probably kill people without being visible!

Miss Miaomiao has stopped writing at this moment.

But she still held the pen.

There was an indescribable emotion on her face.

It seems that she is still immersed in those poems, and it seems that her mind is still filled with the pictures she has never seen that Li Chenan painted with ink.

After a while, she woke up.

She put down her pen and bowed slightly: "I lost my composure."

"Every time I copy these poems of his, I always have some new experiences and feelings. I always feel that he is right in front of me, and I always imagine that I am by his side."

Miss Miaomiao turned her head and looked out the window.

The red silk spread on the lake outside the window has disappeared.

There is a microwave.

There is a breeze.

There is a bamboo curtain swaying gently.

A red lantern has been lit.

"If I could accompany him and study at night with red sleeves and sweet scent...this is probably the wish of every pregnant girl!"

Xia Hua looked at Miaomiao silently, and suddenly asked: "Didn't you say sixteen songs? How come it's only fifteen?"

"His last poem has not been recited in the literary world. Very few people know it, and it has not been spread yet."

"oh……"

Xia Hua felt a little regretful.

"It's a pity that Master Shang passed away. Even if he could compose good poems, no one would be able to compose matching music."
To be continued...