Since ancient times, it had represented the highest honor of the literati and was sought after by everyone. How many unknown people had relied on a good poem to rise to fame and become famous all over the world? They had even been promoted and their names had been passed down in history.
Many people regretted not being able to write a good poem their whole life.
Every time there was a good poem, it would spread throughout the world in the shortest amount of time and become famous overnight. The brothel girls did not want money and only wanted a poet to write a poem.
The most impressive one was Liu Yong of the Song Dynasty. The emperor asked him to be a professional lyricist and the brothel girls were his hardcore fans. He visited all the brothels in his life and never spent money. When he died, all the brothel girls in Kaifeng came to send him off. The brothel girls held onto the coffin as they walked, crying bitterly. There was even one girl who was extremely sad. She died in melancholy.
Of course, there were some people who kept writing famous poems but did not know how to cherish it. They used it in dishonest ways, such as using poems as advertisements.
"Poets express their feelings based on the situation and express their feelings. They express their feelings based on their skills …"
When the imperial academician mentioned poems, he would quote from the classics and boast about the Book of Songs. At the same time, he stared at Meton as if Meton had committed a heinous crime.
"Peng!" The imperial academician slammed the Book of Songs shut! The anger in his eyes was not extinguished.
"I hope that everyone will be able to achieve something by writing good poems diligently. Don't be like some people who think they have some talent but do not know how to cherish it. They do not know that it will be too late for regrets." The imperial academician scolded.
"Hmph!"
The imperial academician left angrily.
However, this was not the end. For the entire morning, Meton did not even dare to raise his head.
Every doctor from the Imperial College shook their heads and sighed in disappointment when they saw Meton. Even the mathematics doctor, Shen Hongcai, had a regretful and angry expression. This made Moton extremely confused. If the imperial academician were to teach the Book of Songs and love poetry as much as his life, he could still understand the academician's feelings. Speaking of which, what was with you, a mathematics teacher, with such an expression?
"Dang dang!" The bell for the end of the class rang. Meton immediately felt as if he had been granted amnesty. He grabbed his book and wanted to rush out.
"Stop, this road is blocked!"
Zu Mingjun, Kong Huisuo, and the other supervisors of Class C immediately blocked the door. Each of them had a sinister smile on their faces. Like a pack of wolves hunting for prey, they wanted to surround Meton.
"What are you trying to do? Let me tell you, don't act recklessly! Do you understand? "Morton warned with a lack of confidence.
"Messing around? I think you're the one messing around!" Kong Huisuo sneered.
"That's right. Do you know that in order to write a good poem! He racked his brains for several days and nights. And the result? When I gave my poem to the Headmaster, the Headmaster only took a glance at it and didn't look at it again. "Kong Huisuo rebuked her own painful history.
"Do you know that in order to write a poem, I almost memorized all the poems of my predecessors, and in the end! Even now, I still don't know how to write poems. "Zu Mingjun faintly said, full of resentment.
"That's nothing. The number of poems I wrote is more than enough to fill an entire poetry anthology. In the end, tell me, how many of you have finished reading my poetry anthology?! "Another supervisor was extremely indignant. He actually turned the spearhead around.
"Cough cough! We'll talk about your book of poems later. The most important thing now isn't this … "Kong Huisuo hurriedly changed the topic.
"Yes, yes!"
The Imperial College students all agreed.
Immediately, everyone glared at Meton.
"What about you? You can write a peerless masterpiece at any time! The most shameful thing is that you actually used a distorted poem to advertise. If you don't tell us what it is today, don't even think about walking out of this door. "Zu Mingjun rudely said.
"Yes, not only do you have to tell us, you have to write the entire poem."
"Yes!"
The students of Class C clamored.
"Isn't it just a poem? Is there a need to go so far?" Meton said weakly.
In the future, writing a distorted poem was a common thing. However, he underestimated the importance of poems in the hearts of others.
"Is there a need to go so far?" Zu Mingjun dragged his voice. Among the Imperial College students, although he was from a family of mathematicians, it didn't mean that poems weren't important in his heart. In fact, they were almost the same.
"How many good poems can be passed down in the entire Tang dynasty in a year? Why don't you try writing another one for me?" Zu Mingjun gritted his teeth and said.
"Is that so?" Meton couldn't help but ponder. The students of Class C suddenly had a bad feeling.
"Sleeping in spring, unaware of the dawn …" Meton dragged his voice.
Zu Mingjun was shocked. Sometimes, whether a poem was good or bad could be determined from the first sentence. Coincidentally, this sentence was indeed a classic. Although it was simple, it had a lingering charm.
"Everywhere mosquitoes bite, a big bear comes at night. No one can run away." Meton quickly finished the remaining three sentences.
"Plop."
The students of Class C all fell to the ground.
"Sleeping in spring, unaware of the dawn, everywhere mosquitoes bite, a big bear comes at night. No one can run away." It sounded beautiful, but other than the first sentence, the rest of the language was extremely vulgar.
A crooked poem, still a crooked poem! Everyone was still wailing in their hearts.
"Mo Jiazi!" The students of Class C all gnashed their teeth.
"Again! I don't believe you have more! "Zu Mingjun said with hatred.
"Purple smoke rises from the incense burner in the sunshine. Meton comes to the roast duck restaurant. Drooling for three thousand feet, I touch my pocket and don't have any money. "
"Pfft!"
Many Imperial College students vomited three liters of blood. Mo Jiazi was addicted to crooked poems. He even ridiculed himself.
Meton didn't have any money to buy the roast duck. You opened the Gourmet Restaurant yourself. Why did you have to pay for it?
"Do you have more?" Kong Huisuo covered his chest and said with grief and indignation. He had mentally prepared himself to deal with any unexpected shocks.
"It rains heavily during the Qingming Festival. A lonely man wants to die. Where are the bachelors? The shepherd boy points to the Village of Mo."
There were many bachelors in the Village of Mo. That was a well-known rumor in Chang 'an City. However, as the Village of Mo became richer, the number of bachelors in the Village of Mo decreased rapidly. He didn't expect that after Meton ridiculed himself, he also ridiculed the Village of Mo.
"Plop!"
Everyone in Class C was kneeling. At this time, Class C had already attracted many Imperial College students. When they heard Meton's crooked poem, they felt as if they were struck by lightning.
"I'll fight you!" The students of Class C rushed up in grief and indignation and ravaged Meton.
Under the threat of Class C's violence, Meton only had to say the original three poems. However, he refused to say the advertising line.
"Dawn of spring
Sleeping in spring,
Birds are heard everywhere.
Wind and rain come at night,
How many flowers fall. "
Without a doubt, this was a good poem with a profound meaning. However, compared to Meton's crooked poem, the difference was like heaven and earth.
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