"What am I? What the old man has done before is not like this. The so-called doing things for me is good for the people of Dragon City. The same is true."

Ouyang Rong didn't even raise his eyelids:

"The old man just said that he had a good impression of me because of other people's comments about me. Later, he became disappointed with me because he so-called witnessed a beggar begging for money on the street. He even wrote a letter about me on the way home.

A masterpiece of criticism...

"Oh, did the old man ever ask the beggars on the street about their origins?

"Obviously, the old-timers did not, and the old-timers did not know that these beggars actually came from other disaster-stricken counties!

“It is precisely because the people of Longcheng County, which is also a disaster-stricken county, are living well and enjoying a good reputation that it attracts victims from several surrounding counties to come in an endless stream.

"Old seniors don't know that these victims, who come every day, will be sent to disaster relief camps on the outskirts of the city before sunset.

"Even the old-timers don't even know how many disaster relief camps there are outside the city, and how much food these disaster relief camps consume just by distributing free rice every day. They don't even know, or they don't care, or don't care.

"Old-timers only care about whether the sentences they write are coherent and the pronunciation is harmonious.

"Well, seeing is believing. Should we regard it as reality if we only see the appearance? Then it is no different from the blind man touching the elephant. It is just that he has no eyesight. It is not even as good as the blind man touching the elephant. At least the latter still knows how to do it himself, but

It's just a partial generalization, and the old-timers can't even get the point right.

"Is this what the old master did, Master Da Lang?"

Ouyang Rong chuckled. He didn't know when he got up, but he had already walked to the stone table. While talking, he lowered his eyes and read the so-called "Preface to the Disaster People" on the table.

"Junior, you..." Yuan Xiangshan stood up unsteadily, leaning on his crutches, his lips trembling.

The young county magistrate shook his head and said:

"Old seniors are used to being blind, standing from a superior perspective, ignoring the facts, talking and making long speeches. I am not used to this. I have to confirm something repeatedly before saying something.

"It was the same when I was reluctant to talk just now and wanted to carefully identify someone's quality. It's the same now when I'm appreciating this "sensing" masterpiece by an old senior."

As he spoke, Ouyang Rong pointed his index finger downward at the parallel prose on the table. With a sincere look on his face, he imitated what someone had just said and said:

"It may not sound good, but I tell the truth for the sake of the old man. This article written by the old man... is not very good, and I am a bit disappointed."

He said lightly: "Too much admiration for parallel people, decorated with algae and paintings, despicable literary style, just moaning for no reason."

Ouyang Rong was right. After reading it carefully several times, he was indeed speaking truthfully.

There are currently no Eight Great Masters and ancient prose movements in this part of the world. The style of parallel prose that was popular in the literary world of the Great Zhou Dynasty was passed down from the Southern and Northern Dynasties.

This style of writing emphasizes duality and rhythm. Due to the need to adapt to sentence patterns, it can easily evolve into a pile of rhetoric, with less meaning and more words, which greatly affects the expression of content. In other words, it is just a show of writing style, and the content is empty...

At this moment, in the waterside pavilion, Yuan Xiangshan was speechless. He seemed a little anxious, his face turned red and he coughed.

"Teacher, calm down..." Su Dalang hurriedly stepped forward and patted the teacher's stooped back.

Looking at the pair of masters and disciples in front of him, and thinking of what he encountered today, a certain ancient article with deep memory suddenly flashed in Ouyang Rong's mind.

Ouyang Rong shook his head and said:

"Did the old man use this kind of article to teach Da Lang? If I'm not talented, I would like to give Da Lang an article. I won't write parallel prose, but write something meaningful. This was a gift from a senior who I met by chance.

Mine, I changed it a bit, it’s embarrassing.”

Ouyang Rong stood at the table, laying out paper, grinding ink, and rolling up his sleeves.

He casually picked up the pen and filled in the ink, then turned to write a eloquent article in one stroke.

"Liao Zai Da Lang, Liu Lang, Ah Shan, let's go, let's not get in the eyes of a famous teacher here anymore."

After putting down the pen, without waiting for the ink to dry, Ouyang Rong turned around and walked out of the waterside pavilion.

Yan Liulang, Liu Ashan and others quickly followed.

Seeing this, Yuan Xiangshan pushed away Su Dalang and the book boy who were supporting him, and jumped up. For some reason at this moment, his skills seemed to be a little stronger. The old man chased out of the water pavilion and stabbed Ouyang Rong in the back with his crutch:

"Don't leave, Zhuzi. I'm so angry. What do you mean?"

"What's the meaning?"

Ouyang Rong said without replying:

"Don't understand yet? The meaning is very simple. Students are good students, but teachers are not necessarily good teachers.

"Da Lang is too respectful to his teachers. Seniors are used to bullying him, but don't think of bullying him to the point of bullying. You don't understand the situation in Longcheng County, so I won't bother you to point fingers."

Just as Mr. Yuan was stamping his feet angrily, there was a figure standing quietly on the corridor not far from the waterside pavilion and had been listening for a long time.

"Miss, do you want to persuade me..." Behind Qianying, a little maid with a bun face couldn't help but ask.

"Shh." Su Bao'er squinted at the tall back.

In the waterside pavilion, Su Dalang, who was a step behind, could not help but stop slowly when he passed by the stone table. He looked down at the still-dry article on the table and murmured in a daze: "Yu Jiaqi can practice the ancient way... The master said that he can follow it..."
Chapter completed!