The carriage moved forward slowly, making a rumbling sound.
In the literary world, there were not many people that Fang Yun cared about. Other than Zhang Jingan, there were only a few people.
Since returning to the literary circle, Fang Yun found that the Divine Temple had stored a large number of letters for him. As long as he accepted them, tens of thousands of them would fly to him.
Fang Yun gave up for the moment and sat in the carriage.
Soon, the carriage arrived at a vegetable market in the south of the city and moved forward slowly.
It was already night, and the market was a little dim.
The coachman didn't know what was going on, and just drove the carriage according to Fang Yun's instructions.
After a while, Fang Yun suddenly lifted the curtain slightly and looked outside through the gap.
The market was less crowded than usual because of the cold weather, but the vendors were still doing business.
In the middle of a simple wooden shed, there was a dim lantern. Under the lantern, there were many heaters. The heaters were covered with cotton blankets, revealing some green leaves. A couple in their fifties or sixties, wearing thick cotton-padded jackets, were standing in the wooden shed, gently stamping their feet and occasionally calling out to sell their wares.
"Fresh cabbage, 18 copper coins for one," Lao Guo yelled. He glanced at the carriage and saw the curtain of the carriage was down.
Lao Guo suddenly stopped talking and watched the carriage go further and further away in confusion.
"Old man, what are you looking at?"
"Nothing. I just feel that there's someone I know sitting in the carriage."
"Only rich people can take carriages. You don't know any rich people."
Lao Guo grinned and slowly straightened his back.
Fang Yun heard the conversation between the Old Man and his wife and smiled. Last year, when he took Zhang Jingan to dig dung, he had been with this Lao Guo. This honest man had helped him a lot. When Fang Yun took Zhang Jingan away, he left Lao Guo a thousand taels of silver and a piece of paper with "Marquis of Zhujiang, Zhang Longxiang" written by him.
Seeing that Lao Guo was not implicated by him, Fang Yun felt relieved. But then, his face darkened.
Back in Pearl River City, Fang Yun had once visited a rural couple's house as a guest. Due to the King Of Chu's purge of the Pearl River Army, Fang Yun's visit to their house as a guest was exposed. As a result, the couple was exiled, and the woman passed away during the exile.
Fang Yun's eyes dimmed, but they quickly returned to normal.
The carriage continued forward and soon stopped in front of a restaurant on Long River Street.
Long River Street was not the most bustling street in the capital. The officials and nobles of the capital would never come here, but those with money would often come here. It was also a gathering place for ordinary scholars.
Fang Yun looked up and saw the words "Ji Family Restaurant" written on the black door. It was no different from the other restaurants on this street. It was three stories high, but Fang Yun chose this place.
Fang Yun asked the coachman to stay downstairs and stepped into the Ji Family Restaurant. He glanced around and then went up the stairs to the second floor.
Perhaps because it was a winter night, the first and second floors were not crowded. A waiter came to ask Fang Yun. Fang Yun threw him a tael of silver and asked him to leave. Then, he went up to the third floor.
The third floor was different from the lower floors. It was very lively. Fang Yun heard the chatter of the crowd and knew that it might be a small literary gathering. However, he was a scholar and only wanted to take a look at the third floor. The staircase was not blocked, so it was not inappropriate for him to go up.
The staircase was against the wall, and Fang Yunzheng walked to the middle of the staircase. A waiter upstairs smiled and looked down, "Sir, are you one of the participants of the Literary Gathering?"
Fang Yun looked up at the waiter on the third floor. He stopped on the stairs and said, "If the third floor is forbidden to scholars, I can go to another restaurant."
Fang Yun noticed that the waiter's attitude had changed. His face was cold and full of vigilance.
"It is reasonable to say that those who are not part of the literary gathering are not allowed to go up to the third floor." The waiter's tone was very rude.
The waiter looked at Fang Yun again. At this moment, Fang Yun's appearance was that of Zhang Longxiang. Although he was a strong man with a full beard, his temperament was extraordinary. The waiter hesitated.
At this time, three scholars came to the staircase. They were all wearing scholar robes and looked to be in their twenties or thirties.
After asking the whole story, one of the scholars with a fair complexion smiled and said, "Brother, although we are holding a literary gathering on the third floor and did not invite outsiders, we do not exclude scholars from the world. However, you are not wearing scholar robes, so we do not dare to rashly welcome you. Since you want to go up to the third floor, why don't you compose a poem. As long as you gain our approval, you can join. How about it? "
The literary world was different from the Saint Origin World. If there was a person like Zhang Longxiang in the Saint Origin World, 90% of the scholars would recognize him. However, the literary world did not have smooth communication. Moreover, these people were scholars and did not even have an official seal. They could not enter the list of scholars and it was very difficult to see a portrait of Zhang Longxiang.
At this time, more than ten scholars came to the third floor and looked down. Other than four or five scholars, most of them were scholars. None of them recognized Fang Yun.
When these people asked about what had happened, they all laughed. A kind scholar explained, "Brother, we are not trying to make things difficult for you. It is the custom of Jingzhou."
Fang Yun smiled and said, "No problem, it is just a poem."
Fang Yun said as he walked up the stairs. After three steps, he continued walking and said, "Climb to the highest floor."
The crowd was stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter, interrupting Fang Yun's words. A few of the scholars laughed until they were out of breath. Even the waiter was laughing secretly.
"Brother, you are already thirty or forty years old. After composing such a poem, you still dare to call yourself a scholar? I am embarrassed for you! "
"If this can be called a poem, then all of my poems can be considered as national treasures!"
"Climb to the highest floor, aren't you afraid of falling?"
Fang Yun smiled and continued walking up the stairs. Very quickly, he reached the third floor and said, "Twelve railings."
All of the laughter stopped abruptly.
The first sentence was just a normal sentence. However, the second sentence immediately said that the railings on the third floor were extremely high. It looked like it could reach the heavens and even the stars.
Although it was not a wonderful sentence, when the two sentences were put together, it was better than a normal poem. All of the scholars then understood that the first sentence was deliberately written by Fang Yun. Firstly, it was to create a contrast with the second sentence. Secondly, it was to bait them into taking the bait.
The waiter's smile froze. Even the scholars did not dare to laugh, much less him.
Fang Yun walked up the stairs to the third floor. The people at the top of the stairs hurriedly separated.
Fang Yun continued walking and said, "I do not wish to reveal my name. I am afraid to suppress the fourteen prefectures of the literary world!"
If it were any other person who had written such a domineering poem, it would have been ridiculed and ridiculed. However, Fang Yun had said it himself. His aura was vast and mighty, as if he was the sole ruler of the world, and all the kings bowed their heads. This caused everyone to tremble in fear.
The scholars and scholars did not even dare to breathe loudly. Their backs were drenched in cold sweat. They felt that the person in front of them was incomparably majestic. It was as if he could just stretch out his hand and destroy the fourteen prefectures of the literary world.
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