The main hall was quiet, and there were seven or eight scholars sitting there. The oldest of these scholars was nearly 70 years old, and the youngest was 46 or 47 years old. There were more than a dozen folding tables in the hall, and in front of each table was a futon. On the tables were the four treasures of the study and all kinds of books. Next to each table was a large earthen urn with many scrolls. As soon as she entered the hall, the smell of ink hit her face.
Those seven or eight scholars were responsible for compiling history, making announcements, and summarizing all kinds of documents. Their work was relatively easy. The historical events of the past few years could only be described in a hundred or so characters. Therefore, they usually had nothing to do. Other than writing calligraphy, drawing, and occasionally taking on some private jobs to earn some money, they would gather together to recite poems and compose, enjoying themselves.
At this time, they were gathered in front of a table, shaking their heads and chanting. As soon as Shangguan Wan 'er entered the hall, a few little eunuchs who were serving in the hall saw her first. They hurriedly came forward and saluted, "Greetings, Shangguan Wan' er!"
"Ah! Shangguan Daizhao is here. "
When the Scribes saw Shanghai Wan'er coming in, they all came forward to greet her. Shangguan Wan 'er heaved a sigh of relief and said with a smile, "Scholars, have you come up with another masterpiece?"
A scholar in his fifties stroked his beard and laughed: "Shangguan Daizhao has come at the right time. Old Guan has just written a good poem, and wanted to ask Shangguan Daizhao to appraise it."
Old Guan was referring to the oldest scholar among the scholars. His name was Guan Yi, and he was sixty-seven years old this year. Because he was the most senior among them, he was the only one who could sit in his seat without getting up to greet Shangguan Wan 'er. Hearing the scholar's flattery, Guan Yi chuckled and was about to pick up the poem he had written when a scholar next to him picked it up and held it up.
The scholar held the poem in his hand and said to Shanghai Wan'er: "I will recite it on behalf of Old Guan, please appraise it on behalf of Shangguan Daizhao!"
This scholar was called Zhang Liang, and he was also a scholar in the Hall of History. He immediately held the poem in his hand and said while shaking his head: "The morning court opens in the purple hall, the good atmosphere follows the morning. North Que Hua Jing is present, the east dawn is new. The shadows and fragrant mist merged together, the radiance was beautiful and auspicious. The bird's feathers began to settle, and the dragon's inscription became real. I suspect that the crown is worn into my body, and the crown of love is dear to me. Swaying in the auspicious clouds, reflecting the courtiers in the morning. "
After Zhang Liang finished reciting the poem, Guan Yi smiled and said, "This old man woke up early today and came to the Hall of History. I saw from afar that the Empress of Heaven was holding a court meeting, hundreds of officials were in the hall, the atmosphere was solemn. I was inspired and after thinking for a long time, I wrote this poem. What does Shangguan Daizhao think of this poem?"
Shangguan Wan 'er said, "Elder Guan's poem is profound and full of charm. It describes the atmosphere of the royal court in the morning …"
Just as she said this, Yang Fan poked his head in from the doorway and raised his voice to ask, "Shangguan is waiting for the edict. The things have been placed in place. If there are no other instructions, I will go back first."
Old Master Guan Yi stroked his beard, slightly closed his eyes, and gently nodded with a smile on his face. He was listening to Shangguan Wan 'er's praise as if he was listening to heavenly music. Suddenly being interrupted, he frowned, opened his eyes, and cast a displeased glance at him.
"Aiya! You are … Yang Fan! "
A young eunuch in the Hall of History heard Yang Fan's voice. He took a closer look and suddenly cried out in surprise. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized that he had forgotten himself and hastily covered his mouth.
This young eunuch also liked to play cuju. When Yang Fan was competing in the palace, he was also present to watch. He had a deep impression of his idol. As soon as he recognized him, he could not help but cry out.
Unexpectedly, as soon as he cried out, the youngest scholar Lin Ximing also could not help but cry out in delight, "What did you say? He is Yang Fan? That day he scored five goals in a row in cuju, and together with Princess Taiping, fought five against ten, and defeated the Tubo Yang Fan on the cuju field? "
Cuju was indeed the most widespread and popular sport in the Tang dynasty, with countless fans. This scholar Lin was also a fan of cuju and cuju. Usually, when he had nothing to do, he would arrange a duel with three or five friends to play cuju or cuju for fun. Knowing that the imperial guard in front of him was the Yang Fan he often talked about, he could not help but be surprised and happy.
Seeing that Scholar Lin was also making a fuss about the appearance of a palace guard, Guan Fuzi was even more displeased. He dragged out his voice and lightly asked, "This guard, who is he?"
Zhang Liang, who was standing to the side, answered, "He is a palace guard. It sounds like he is good at cuju."
Guan Fuzi made an "oh" sound, and his eyelids drooped. His left hand pulled on his right sleeve, picked up a brush, filled it with ink, and waved it on the paper. He disdainfully said, "Cuju is just a small trick. It does not benefit the country, nor does it benefit the people. It is just a small trick to entertain others and oneself. There is no need to make such a fuss!"
Hearing the sarcasm in his words, Scholar Lin could not help but blush. However, Guan Fuzi was too senior, so he did not dare to refute.
Shanghai Wan'er slightly frowned her delicate eyebrows. This Guan Fuzi had always been arrogant, but with his status, it was not a bearing for him to be so calculative with a palace guard …
Shanghai Wan'er was about to casually say a few words to get over this unpleasant atmosphere, but Yang Fan opened his mouth with a smile.
The relationship between imperial guards and these idle historians was not even close for eight lifetimes. He did not have to worry about offending these historians. Moreover, he did not even want to be an imperial guard for long.
In fact, he did not take Guan Fuzi's words to heart. It was not to say that Yang Fan's cultivation had reached a state where he did not rejoice in material things and did not grieve for himself. It was because until now, he had not regarded himself as an imperial guard. He had not integrated himself into the court or into this environment.
Everything he was doing now was only to find Miao Shenke and get close to Qiu Shenji. When his goal was achieved, he would leave. Everything here was just a memory to him. Why would he care if Scholar Lin looked down on his cuju skill that he was so proud of?
However, he could not care about Guan Fuzi's belittling of himself, but he cared about the feelings of Scholar Lin and the little servant who were humiliated.
"They were humiliated because they appreciated my talent. How could I sit back and watch?"
Yang Fan stepped into the hall and said in a clear voice, "I beg to differ with what this old man said. Although bow-striking is not a Great Way, it is not without benefits to the country and the people. If we really talk about its usefulness, I think it is a bit better than those poems and prose that you have scribbled on! "
Guan Fuzi's wrist sank and a piece of calligraphy was ruined. He angrily raised his head and glared at Yang Fan. "Ignorant boy, what did you say?" he said. "What did you say? You said that these poems and songs are small ways? They … they are not as good as cuju, those juggling things for fun? Preposterous, truly preposterous! "
Guan Fuzi was old. When Li Shimin vigorously promoted the cuju movement in the Tang dynasty to improve the people's equestrian archery level, he had long passed the age to learn cuju. Therefore, he had always disapproved of this movement and even had some resistance. He was an elder of the Academy of History. The other scholars and editors all gave him some respect. Now that he was being taught a lesson by a soldier, how could he bear it?
Yang Fan said, "The Hebei Province of Jizhou had a drought last year, and the winter was bitter cold. Now it is the season when the young and the yellow are not growing. Many refugees are begging to come to the capital. Can you compose a poem to let them have food and clothing?"
Guan Fuzi was startled and said angrily, "Outrageous! How is this possible, this … "
Yang Fan said again, "The four towns of Anxi have fallen, and there are different opinions in the court. Some people think that Anxi is a useless place, and it is better to abandon it and concentrate on China. As a result, Anxi has fallen, and it has not been recovered for a long time. Why don't you compose a poem to let the Tubo people give up the four towns? What do you think?"
Guan Fuzi's face turned redder, and he trembled with anger. He said repeatedly, "Nonsense! A bunch of nonsense. Poetry is a matter of elegance. What you said is military strategy. It is completely unrelated. You are really … cough cough cough … "
Yang Fan did not wait for him to finish and continued, "On Taihang Mountain, bandits run amok. When the local authorities arrest them, they escape into the mountains. When the local authorities do not pursue them, they come back and cause trouble. The local people suffer greatly and suffer unspeakably. Why don't you compose a poem to bring them to justice? "
Guan Fuzi's fingers trembled, and his face turned purple. He pointed at Yang Fan and said, "You … you … you …"
Yang Fan's face darkened, and he said sternly, "The way of literature and martial arts is the foundation of governing a country. Poetry is just a game derived from the way of literature. It cannot build irrigation works, develop agriculture, and let the people have enough food and clothing. It cannot make the country rich and powerful, serve the country, and help the world. It is just something to entertain others, and to nourish the body and mind. Why are you so proud of it?
Poetry is derived from the way of literature, and bow-beating is derived from the way of martial arts. Bowing can strengthen the body, train riding and archery, entertain people in peacetime, and have great use in wartime. Why can't it be compared to your poem? If you really want to think about it, your poems can only be enjoyed by three to five scholars, shaking their heads and enjoying themselves. My bowing is enjoyed by the nobility, scholars and scholars, common people, peddlers and servants, everyone can enjoy it. How can it compare?
Your poems and prose require you to rack your brains and chew over the words. Every single one of them is so weak that they can't distinguish between the five grains. My Kuju can strengthen the body, train riding and archery, and protect the country. How can it compare? Not far from the Hall of History is the Hall of Governmental Affairs. The ministers in the Hall of Governmental Affairs have to attend to a myriad of affairs every day and worry about the affairs of the world. How could they rely on your useless poems? "
"You … you …"
Guan Fuzi was so angry that he almost fainted.
Yang Fan did not pay any more attention to him. He smiled and bowed to Shangguan Wan'er. "Shangguan Wan'er," he said, "I still have duties to attend to. If there are no other instructions, I will return to my duty at Wu Cheng Hall."
"You, go ahead!"
Shangguan Wan'er's eyes shone with a strange light. She did not expect Yang Fan to say such words and have such knowledge. In her heart, she thought that Yang Fan did not have the least bit of knowledge. Yang Fan smiled and bowed, turned around and left. Shangguan Wan'er looked at his back and was slightly lost in thought.
Behind her, as soon as Guan Fuzi saw that Yang Fan was about to leave, he angrily stood up. Unexpectedly, because he had been sitting for too long, the blood in his legs was not flowing smoothly. When he suddenly stood up, his legs were numb and his head was lacking blood. His vision darkened and he fell backward. Zhang Liang quickly supported him and shouted, "Old scholar, what happened to you?"
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